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ireneispunk · 1 year ago

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Pride, the Wolf, and the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark x female reader smut (King's Landing Handmaiden)

You were a sight to behold, merely a handmaiden yet you could command a room. And grasp the attention of a prince and a lord... on the same night?

request: (anon) 'Saw your requests are open, what about dark dom jace x sub brat reader or a threesome with the same as before but with cregan too which they're dark dom but still obsessive I don't know how these too can make sense but I hope you got my point'

w.c: 4537

c.w: canon divergent (blacks won and it is set after the dance, rhaenyra sits the iron throne, basically just did it to have everyone in one place), threesome!!! woop woop, p in v sex, oral (m & f receiving), light choking, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, NO use of y/n, as usual no specific features mentioned - let me know if i've missed any!

a.n: i've never wrote for cregan before but im supper happy with this! other requests made are about half done for those waiting ♡

dividers: @v6que ♡

You let out another fake giggle as yet another wealthy man bided for your attention. This type of thing always happened on big occasions, and today certainly was one. Lucerys and Rhaena’s wedding was no small occasion, every lord and lady who had supported Rhaenyra’s claim was here. I mean hells, that’s why you even had the opportunity you did. You weren’t low born, but handmaiden to the queen was a role very much reserved for high born girls. You father had risked his own life, and your families, to help Ser Erryk back into King’s Landing with a secret route he knew through Tumbleton. This job had provided you with a home in quarters you could’ve only dreamed of, and the opportunity to be around the prince. Your fingers grazed across your skin to fiddle with your necklace, you smiled up at the man in front of you, laying on your charm. Despite entertaining his dull conversation and even duller jokes for the past half an hour, you certainly did not care for him. You took advantage of the man’s position in society and every once in a while, you stared beyond his shoulder to see the prince of Dragonstone burning holes into his back. Tonight, however, was different. Not only had you caught they eye of one prince Jacaerys, but his friend from The North, Lord Stark. You could not deny the beauty the two of them shared, handsome, strong features, large frames and eyes that looked as if they wanted to consume you. The few times you looked their way, as to avoid suspicion, they occasionally whispered to one another. A small look caught your eye from your queen, Rhaenyra. You excused yourself from the conversation and walked to the other side of the great hall to where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat. From the opposite side of the table, you felt a gaze upon you, but you did not do the favour of glancing upon them.

You reached Rhaenyra’s side bowing your head before she whispered to you, “Has Lucerys’ chambers been prepared?” She seemed uncomfortable at the request.

You nodded as you said, “Yes, your grace. I can return? And make sure it is still perfect?”. She shook her head, as Daemon placed a hand upon her’s.

“No that won’t be necessary, you have done so much for us today. Feel free to keep enjoying the celebrations,” She paused to look over to her eldest son and the Lord Stark. “Though I believe there are still some who await your acquaintance.” Your mouth formed into a small ‘o’ shape before nodding. You took your leave and turned to face towards the prince and the lord. Both had already been starring at you, Jacaerys averted his gaze whilst the Stark stared you down. Once you stood opposite them at the table you gave the prince a small curtsy, before turning to Cregan and dipping into a deeper curtsey whilst maintaining eye contact with him. He raised his brow, not used to being looked in the eye by such a sweet looking girl. “Your grace. My Lord Stark, I am pleased to meet you.” You spoke confidently, introducing your name and admired the length of his arms that were visible from his rolled sleeves, “It appears the warm climate agrees with you, my lord.” This was one of your favourite hobbies, you couldn’t deny it. Compliment lords see how they respond, speak almost out of turn but not enough to turn any heads. Jacaerys’ grip on his cup tightened at your remark. For weeks since you had worked there you had tortured him. Wearing those barely there handmaiden’s dresses, the obsessive eye contact, compliments unbefitting of a lady he was not courting, drawing his baths, and offering your assistance. Everyday it was a struggle to not rip your dress from you and fuck you in front of everyone like you seemed to desire. He loathed any sort of gathering because he knew your beauty and charm would attract the attention you deserve.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a large smack across the back from his Stark friend. “Where have you been hiding this one Jace?” He exclaimed with a laugh.

You smiled slightly, “Perhaps my lord has not been searching hard enough, enjoy the rest of the celebrations.” You smirked, turning on your heel and stepping down the stone stairs. A bewildered look flashed across Cregan’s face, as Jacaerys shot him a ‘now you know’ look. You were stopped by a rather handsome man on your way past the dancing pairs, you declined his offer to dance and made your way to the other maidens who erupted into quiet chatter, asking you about what the Stark had said.

Your final task of the night had been escorting Rhaena to Lucerys’ chambers. You held her hands in yours and promised her she would be okay, you boasted of Lucerys’ sweet nature and gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping back behind the corner. You watched as she knocked on the door, before it opened, and she disappeared inside. You smiled to yourself as you turned to head down the corridor before coming face to face with the tall northern man once more. You gasped, raising your hand to your heart. A small chuckle left his lips as he eyed you. He did not know you all that well, but this felt like a rare feat, to catch you off of yours. “My lord, you startled me. Is there something I can help you with?” You looked at him and watched as his eyes shamelessly travelled down your body, lingering on every curve.

“Ah, yes, my lady. I appear to have gotten turned around from my chambers, and I’d hate for those fancy baths these lot make go cold.” You raised a brow at him. Sure, the Red Keep was busy, with windy corridors, but it was a fairly straightforward route from the great hall to the guest’s chambers.

You gestured with your hand to follow him the way he came, “Of course, my lord. Though you do not need to use such honorifics with me, I am not a lady of anything.” He sensed a strange proudness in your lack of title. Cregan was used to people fighting to get the next best thing, yet you were content with your lack of status.

He thought for a moment, before responding. “Then how may I refer to you?”

“However his lord desires.” You spoke with purpose, but never harshly. Every second he had of you intrigued him more.

Once you had reached the familiar door in which Cregan was given a few days prior, you placed your hands behind your back and watched him. He stepped by you and pushed the door open, he leaned against the door frame and eyed you. “So.” You watched him, waiting for him to continue. “Do you have anymore handmaiden duties for the night? Or are you available for me?” A smile tugged at your lips as you thought for a moment.

“Mmm, that depends, why do you wish to know?” Your arms folded over your chest.

He chuckled, “I’ve never had to try this hard to get a pretty girl to have a drink with me.”

You raised your brow, “Most men just ask.” He brought a hand to his chin and rubbed it against the scruff. Just as he was about to respond, someone speaking caught your attention.

“It is getting late your grace is there something you need?” You recognised one of the servants voicing out from around the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped back to see who it was and there stood the prince himself. He looked away from you when he met your gaze.

“I will come in for a cup of wine. Just one.” Cregan’s face lit up, stepping to the side to allow you to step inside. Your eyes narrowed at the lit fire, the flames still tall. You heard the clanking of a belt and the shuffling of clothes before turning back around to Cregan. You jaw dropped slightly at the sight of him completely nude and making his way over to the bathtub in the room. Your eyes absorbed every inch of him, admiring each defined muscle, every scar, the dark hair that tufted around his chest.

You pulled your gaze away and turned to face the wall. “My lord this is not appropriate.” You voice quivered ever so sightly as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Neither is staring.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “But why waste a perfectly good bath.” You heard water slosh around as he sank into the tub. “Turn around.” Your core lit up at the sternness in his voice.

You turned to face him now that he was submerged, only his upper torso out of the water. He leaned back into the tub, sighing out as he brought his arms to rest on the sides. “Wine?” He questioned. You looked at him with a puzzled look but nodded your head. He gestured over to small table and chairs that had a jug and a few cups upon it. You made your way over, feeling his gaze locked onto you.

“When you invited me in, I thought it might be you fetching the wine.” You grasped two of the cups and the jug before turning to face him.

“Ah, well. It seemed easier to get my own clothes off first.” You raised a brow and walked over to him. You kept your eyes on his face, avoiding what was beneath the water. You used your foot to slide over a cushioned stool towards the side of the bath and sat upon it. You met his gaze once more, now eye level with him. You held out a cup to him and watched his fingers lace around it. Picking up the jug in your hands you steadily poured into the cup, before moving onto your own. You were about to take a sip from yours before he stopped you to clink cups. He did so as if you were another harsh northern man causing the liquid in your cup to slosh backwards and land over your arm and into your lap. You gasped and looked up at him with a shocked look on your face. He laughed heartily at your expression and took a sip of his wine. He heard as your cup clinked against the floor, “You may clean up with me if you wish.” He smirked, placing his cup on the ground, and gesturing to the bath. You stomach tightened at the thought of it but rose to your feet with a hum. He moved slighted and raised his hand up to you. “Stay, please. No more win spilling.” His damned handsome face spread a warmth across your body. You exhaled before taking his hand.

All of a sudden you felt him pull you down, landing bum first into the bath with a big splash that threw water over the sides. You let out a small scream feeling yourself become soaked in water. You yelled at him, splashing his face with the water in annoyance before the door suddenly opening caused his laughter and your screaming to cease. You turned around to see a very angry, then confused, then embarrassed Jacaerys. Your heart dropped as you scrambled to your feet out of the bath, you slipped slightly on the wet floor before stepping towards him. “Y-your grace!” You exclaimed, you felt exposed, the thin material of your dress completely soaked through and clinging to every inch of your body. His eyes darted between you and Cregan.

“I heard a scream, and thought I recognised it. My apologies.” He was about to turn to walk away before Cregan got up out of the tub. Jacaerys eyes widened before hastily shutting the door. Jacaerys kept his eyes firmly on the wall behind you, worrying that if his pants got any tighter it’d be noticeable. For once, you were speechless, unable to form a thought, let alone communicate it. “C’mon Jace, this is exactly how you wanted her. Naked- well almost, needy. I know she’s needy just at the sight of you.” His voice rung out from behind you. “I know you didn’t imagine sharing,” He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as his fingers grazed over your shoulder to pull your hair behind you. “But she’s definitely one who needs two cocks to put her in her place.” You face flushed, as you felt a new wetness in between your legs as Cregan’s hands sat upon your shoulders, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Jacaerys finally brought his gaze to you, he eyed your face before devouring ever inch of your body. His throat bobbed as he walked to face you.

“Tell me what you want.” He spoke as he locked onto your eyes. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, feeling as if you were in a dream.

“I want you,” You spoke softly. “Both of you.” You clarified, looking back over your shoulder to meet Cregan’s eyes.

His large hand rested on your jaw, tilting it up towards him. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his hand trailed down and rested upon your neck, his thumb tracing your throat. Cregan turned your head to face Jacaerys, his jaw was tensed, fists clenched at his sides and eyes filled with hunger. Your body burned hot, Cregan’s body pressed against you, his hard cock pressed above your ass. His grip on your jaw tightened slightly. His lips grazed against your neck up to your ear. “Undress his grace,” Your heart buzzed as Jacaerys’ eyes finally tore away from yours to fleet to Cregan’s for a second before returning to you. You swallowed, feeling smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. “Go on, like a good serving girl.” Cregan’s voice dripped with lust. Your hands made their way onto Jacaerys’ chest, he stiffened under your touch. Your fingers traced along the three headed dragon pin that held his jacket together before unpinning it and letting the jacket fall open at his chest. Cregan’s hands never once left you, tracing up and down your sides of your soaked dress, lips occasionally finding your neck or shoulder. Your eyes travelled down to the belt that decorated his waist and kept you from seeing him. You unhooked it, and pulled it from him, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Your hands pushed his coat from his shoulders and down his arms, revealing a thin cotton shirt. His throat bobbed as your hands traced to his waistband, pulling his shirt up slowly over his head. You hand instinctively touched against his chest, admiring each definition and feeling his skin burn beneath your fingertips. “I told you she’s fucking needy for you.” Cregan’s words flushed your face. Jacaerys eyed you, raising a brow to question him. You nodded lightly feeling overwhelmed with the tightening in your stomach, Cregan’s hands exploring your sides, and Jacaerys watching you like you were his prey. Jacaerys picked up your hand in his and placed a small kiss against it before placing your palm against the bulge in his trousers. Jacaerys’ hand reached your jaw, his thumb traced along your lip as his brows furrowed from your touch.

His fingers were soft, and his touch more delicate than Cregan’s, as he tilted your face to the side as if he were finally able to appreciate every inch of your beauty. His eyes flashed behind yours towards Cregan before you were being led over towards the bed. Jacaerys sat first on the end of the bed, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. His palm ran from your stomach, through the valley between your breasts and he rested his fingertips upon your lips while he thought for a moment. “Take off her dress, wouldn’t want the poor thing getting cold.” Your thighs instinctively pressed together. You’d never heard Jacaerys speak in a tone like this, but it was certainly a welcomed surprise. You felt the large hands of the Stark trail up your exposed back to the tie of your haltered dress. One movement later the dress was pulled over your chest and over your hips and dropped to the ground. You felt a cool chill over your exposed skin as Cregan took your hand in is. He pulled you around in a circle, admiring each curve of your form as he did so. A small ‘gods’ mumbled from his lips as he watched you. You gasped as his hands travelled round to your front, taking your breasts into his hands. Jacaerys leaned back slightly to admire you, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing your inner thighs. Your eyes screwed shut as Cregan’s fingers played with your nipples and his lips attached to your neck. “I want her coming on my tongue first.” Your eyes shot open to watch Jacaerys, a small smile playing at his lips. You opened your mouth to say something before Cregan shushed you.

“You heard the prince.” Cregan instructed. You gulped lightly, watching Jacaerys lay back upon the bed, his head of curls hitting the pillows. Cregan held your hand pulling you onto the bed. He watched as you crawled over to Jace, his hand landing on your ass with a harsh slap, causing a yelp to leave your lips.

His hand pushed you closer over Jacaerys until you were straddling his chest. Jacaerys’ hands looped over your thighs to bring your core to his face. His smirk disappeared under your mound as his lips placed small kisses on your thighs. Cregan sat beside you and guided your hand to his cock. He hissed as your hand wrapped around it and began slowly pumping it up and down. You felt as Jacaerys licked a long stripe from your core to your sensitive clit, tasting and collecting your wetness on his tongue. You almost flinched at the sensation, your hand flying up to grip the headboard. A loud moan left your lips as his tongue teased your entrance, before delving in and out of it. Cregan turned your face to him, a groan leaving his lips seeing yours screwed up in pleasure. Your hand continued to pump his cock, enjoying feeling it twitch beneath your hand when your thumb grazed the tip. You jaw dropped at the feeling of Jacaery’s tongue massaging your clit. A flurry of moans left your mouth as his lips latched onto it causing your hips to rut into his face and that familiar tightness to return to your stomach. Cregan’s thumb pulled on your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and gliding across your tongue. You moans were supressed by Cregan’s thumb as you sucked upon it, a satisfied smirk plastering his face as your eyes fell back behind your lids. His thumb left your mouth with a pop as his hand returned to your throat. Your hand moved quicker on his cock as Jacaerys tongue worked on your clit. “You should thank his grace for his hard work, pleasing you with his tongue like this.” Cregan spoke close to a whisper, well, as close to a whisper as the Northern man could get to.

You whimpered in response, unable to form words being on the precipice of your orgasm. Cregan’s hand squeezed lightly against your throat, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. “Use your words when spoken to.” His tone was harsh in a way that flushed your cheeks.

“T-thank you, my prince, for kissing me.” The words fought to escape your lips as all you felt you could do was moan. Your praise causes a groan to fall from his mouth that vibrated upon your clit and fuelled him to massage it at an unbearable pace with his tongue. Your nails dug into the headboard, as your other hand left Cregan’s cock to grip his forearm that held your neck. A flurry of moans left your lips as your orgasm erupted from within you. Your thighs quivered as Jacaerys’ tongue broadly licked you through your high. A large whimper left you lips from the overstimulation causing Jacaerys to place a final kiss upon your clit. You panted as you shuffled down back to straddle his waist. Jacaerys leaned up on his elbows to see you, his hair was dishevelled, his lips plump and coated in your arousal. You leaned forward and tentatively placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, before brushing your lips against his. Your tongue swiped over his lips, tasting your wetness. You gasped as your hips were gripped and you were pulled further down on the bed onto all fours. Jacaerys smirked as you were level with his cock, his pants becoming impossibly tight.

Cregan’s fingers teased the entrance of your pussy as he leaned forward to you, “Gods Jace, she’s soaked.” Your cheeks flushed as you looked away slightly. Jacaerys’ hand found your cheek and turned you to face him.

“I want to watch as he fucks you.” He smiled slightly; his words contradicting the sweet look upon his face. A whimper left your lips as you felt Cregan’s cock rub between your folds and occasionally hitting your sensitive clit. You watched in anticipation as Jacaerys undid the tie of his trousers and pulled them down enough for his cock to spring free. It was huge and dripped with an inviting bead of precum.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jacaerys’ cock, Cregan thrusted into you, bottoming out almost immediately. You clenched at the full feeling, your eyes screwed shut as you let out a half yelp half moan. Once his pace became regular you opened your eyes to see Jace stroking his cock at the sight of you. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, begging for his cock. He obliged and groaned at the sight and sensation of the tip hitting your tongue. With both of your hands propping you up on all fours you took him into your mouth bobbing up and down on the tip and massaging the underside with your tongue. You couldn’t help but moan onto his cock with the feeling of Cregan pounding into you, his length hitting a soft spot inside of you you’d never felt before. Cregan’s hands went from peppering small slaps across your ass to kneading it with his large hands. Jacaerys’ hand made its way to your hair and took a fistful of it. He was gentle as his guided your mouth further down his cock. He moaned loudly as it glided across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. The familiar pressure began to build up in your stomach, and as if he read your mind, Cregan’s pace quickened. Both of his hands gripped into your hips, snapping into you, and pushing against your sweet spot. One of his hands left you hips to reach under your and rub harsh circles into your clit. Your eyes widened as your moans got choked upon Jacaerys’ cock. You tapped the side of his thigh, and he immediately pulled you from his cock, allowing heavy pants to leave your mouth. You cried out a loud ‘fuck’ as you felt your second orgasm wash over you, your pussy clenching tightly over Cregan’s cock. Just as quickly as your orgasm passed your mouth reattached to Jacaerys’ cock, wanting him to enjoy himself too.

A few moments after your peak, Cregan thrusted a few more times before burying his cock deep inside of you and filling you up with his cum. He groaned loudly as his fingertips dug into your skin. He slowly pulled out of you and collapsed onto the bed behind you. Despite the shaking in your legs and your sensitive pussy, you looked up to Jacaerys with an idea. You readjusted to straddle his waist once more and aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy. Jacaerys looked shocked for a moment before his hungry gaze returned. Your brows furrowed as you slowly slid down onto his cock, trying to readjust for his size. You watched as his head threw back in pleasure as your second cock of the night bottomed out inside of you. You started to move, slowly thrusting yourself upon him. Jacaerys eyes opened to watch you, occasionally looking down to his cock disappearing inside of your pussy that was now overflowing with cum. A loud groan left his lips as he internally cursed himself for not being able to last longer and savour your pussy smothering his cock. He pulled you down by your hair to meet his lips as he kissed you deeply. It was passionate, his tongue leaving little time before it delved into your mouth. You moaned against his lips at the new angle, he was managing to fill you even more. Your thighs shook with overstimulation and Jacaerys noticed before he held your hips at a certain point and began to thrust into you. Your eyes locked with his as you moaned his name. He grunted as his rhythm became erratic before holding your hips down on his cock and as you felt his seed spread within you. You rested your forehead against his as you both regained your breath. His hands ran softly down your back as he pulled his cock from you. You whimpered at the emptiness, before sitting back onto your thighs to relieve the quiver in them as Jacaerys re tied his trousers.

You heard footsteps walk over to the side of the bed, before looking up to see a fully clothed Cregan. You blushed, realising how consumed you had been in the prince to not notice. “Aren’t you both just adorable.” He spoke with a chuckle, as his hand lightly spanked your ass. You shot him a glare, moving to lay beside Jacaerys. “Easy,” Cregan spoke raising his palm. “I though you were the fire breathing dragon.” He smirked gesturing to Jacaerys. Jacaerys, turned his head down to face you, before returning a shrug to Cregan with a smile. Cregan laughed, waving you off before making his way to the door. “Sleep tight, lovers.” He smiled to himself as his hand gripped the doorhandle.

“Wait! But this is your room?” You questioned, leaning up from the bed.

He shot you a grin, “I heard the prince’s chambers have become available.” He shot you both a wink before disappearing into the corridor. You hummed in confusion as Jacaerys just smiled.

“You both confuse me.” You hummed, scanning Jacaerys’ face. He raised his arm up and motioned you to lay beside him. You huffed as you cuddled into him, your head upon his chest. He reached for the blanket that had been tossed aside and threw it over you both. His hand landed upon your side, and softly rubbed your waist.

He planted a small kiss upon your head. “I think we both did a good job at showing you what we think of you.” You could hear the smile in his voice as your cheeks flushed. You definitely knew for sure now.

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vivalarevolution · 1 year ago

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𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓞𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝓣𝓸 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓱

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen Reader x Cregan Stark

Summary: War emerged from the shadows like an old friend, but apart from the war, there were also matters from the past that created new, unknown and dangerous affairs for her, so sinful and so forbidden. And this time she couldn't escape, getting trapped in between seahorse and a wolf.

A/N: A refreshed version of the story , that I really think is one of the better ones I've ever written. I hope you will like it , enjoy it and find it worth reading.

Please remember that english is not my native language, I do not use it on a daily basis, so mistakes can or will happen.

The work contains smut, so minors do not interact with it.

The north was cold, full of ice and snow, and the northern people were even colder. Their eyes gave the shivers, and the low and rough tone of voice made silence the only thing that escaped from the lips of strangers.

But he, Lord of Winterfell, though he seemed to be the same, was the opposite of it all.

Cregan Stark was a wolf in human skin. A man who could bend thousands with just a single glance of his gray irises. He was like fire itself, dangerous and burning under her fingers. He was vicious and wild, devouring her flesh every night, never being satisfied, always wanting more and more until there was nothing left to give.

-Cregan - she moaned into his neck, her nails creating patterns on his back that covered the old ones, not yet healed.

-Feels good, princess? - he purred into her ear, sucking on its lobe, only to kiss it after , feeling her soft skin become covered with goosebumps.

-Oh Cregan - she whimpered, unable to say anything else, repeating his name like a prayer.

The man grabbed her thighs in response, lifting her legs up, letting her ankles rest on his shoulders, gliding his lips over the flesh of her calves, moving his loins deeply and slowly, taking her breath away as she felt the head of his member kissing her cervix again and again ,mixing pain and pleasure together.

-It's so sweet...addictive when you say my name like a prayer - he murmured, lowering his face over hers, rubbing his lips against her full , soft and red, almost swollen ones - It only makes me want to devour you like a hungry wolf and make you mine forever.

-Yes, yes ... only yours - she whispered ,tangling her fingers in the man's brown hair, pulling them again and again, trying to touch his lips, even for a moment - Oh Cregan, please, please! - she moaned directly into his mouth, her lavender irises covered with a robe of crystal tears, threatening to flow out.

-How can I say no to you ,my little dragon? - Cregan asked, moving his hips so brutally and animalistic, contrasting with the controlled movements of his hands that pinned her to the bed, commanding her to take everything, not letting her escape - Take everything I give you, that's right, good girl - he growled like a hungry enraged wolf, making her fall apart before his eyes.

Woman felt as if something had crept into her veins and made her body a shell filled with lust and desire, nothing more. Her muscles went limp, almost non-existent, and her eyes closed embraced in a soothing darkness.

The man's hands were still moving, marking her skin with an electrifying sensation that made her open her eyes, to open her mouth and let his tongue out, to let the wolf prey.

-Cregan - she said quietly so that the only one who could've heard her was the man she mentioned - Kiss me, kiss me again.

Brunet bowed his head, brushing her soft, delicate lips with his, fulfilling her wish.

-You make me a hungry man. Never wanting to stop, never going to stop - he murmured, tasting her again and again, mixing their breaths together.

-No... don't say that - she moaned, feeling his hands on her sensitive breasts, trying to recapture the bit of consciousness that began to ebb away with each movement of his fingers and each kiss of his hot lips.

-That's the truth. I could never lie to you, I can only tell you the truth when I look at you - he panted, attacking her once flawless neck, which was now full of red marks and bites - You have bewitched me, my body and mind and I can't lie. No matter how much you want to hear a lie from my lips.

You have bewitched me. My body and mind.

Those words, she's heard those words before. They echoed in her head, only to sink to the bottom of her stomach, creating a knot so unbearable and painful that she wanted to scream and cry in pain.

-We are enemies...out there, we are enemies to each other - she remarked listlessly, focusing her violet eyes on the snowy window.

-Yet here we're lovers. In my arms you are my beloved, not my enemy - he replied directly to her ear, tenderly kissing the left side of her face.

-When I return to King's Landing and announce the decision of Lord of Winterfell...you will become ... only an enemy - she confessed, after a moment leveling her eyes with him.

Cregan stared intently into her pupils, black as the abyss, drawing him in.

-You are the bane of my existence. And the object of all my desires. Night and day, I dream of you - the man announced and the woman knew every word was sincere, every blink of his grey eyes ,every breath taken during his confession - So when you come back I'll be on the other side fighting to tear you away from the clutches you were born into but didn't want to live. You will be my lover my princess, never my enemy.

Days later, their conversation seemed non-existent. However, in truth, she was forgotten and hidden deep in the darkness by a woman who did not want to remember it, preferring to live in the bliss of unconsciousness. But life was cruel and was not about to let Y/n Targaryen rest, stabbing the princess's heart with long thorns of memories that flooded her like a flood as her eyes saw a familiar figure and heard a voice she once adored.

-I came here as a messenger, not a warrior - he announced and the woman didn't even know who these words were addressed to, for what purpose they were uttered but she didn't care, all she wanted to know was whether it was an illusion.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

It seemed to her that he was standing so close to her, even though in truth he was so far away, but his brown eyes still spotted her in the darkness that surrounded her, no matter how much she tried to hide in it , no matter how she was trying to escape him. He caught her anyway ,right under the noses of the old gods.

-Let go of me - she said as his arms wrapped around her, trapping her inside of them.

-What are you doing here Y/n? Why are you here? - he asked, looking at her, his hands tightening on her body as soon as she moved harder than before.

-I'm delivering a message from my brother. Just as you doing with the message from your mother, my sister - she confessed, looking at him.

Jacaerys released her as if her words were burning, but he didn't let her go. Caging her in the form of his eyesight and body that blocked out everything but him, forcing her to focus only on the young man before her.

-Why? - he asked calmly, sounding almost hurt.

-Why? - she repeated his question, not understanding the meaning of his words, not when they were both now standing on opposite sides of the barricade as enemies - We are at war Jacaerys. There is too late to ask questions , too late to think what if.

They both fell quiet abruptly, letting the silence creep in between them, devouring them from the inside out , and none of them said anything, only staring into the eyes of the other.

-I know this war is real but I don't want to believe that in this war you chose your brother... instead of me - he confessed surprisingly quietly, surprisingly coldly.

-What was between us... it was just an illusion we lived in - Y/n replied, feeling the lump in her throat grow as her heart throbs with pain and her veins flood with anger.

-We decided to love each other - said the brunette, getting closer to the girl, more and more - It was a choice, our choice - he whispered, running his fingers along her cheekbone.

-But it was your choice to make me a woman you could love in the dark but never in the light of day. You've made promises to me before, and like a fool, I believed them. I won't be your fool again - she said firmly, pushing his hand away from her face.

-It was never my intention - he confessed quietly, trying to match her gaze, but she ran away every time - I wanted you, only you.

The white-haired woman shook her head, not believing any of his words and not wanting to listen further.

-Yet you swore to marry Baela. In front of my eyes you chose her over me - Y/n gritted her teeth, voice as cold as ice - Where was your love then, where is it now? There's a woman waiting for you, a woman who have feelings for you, and you're chasing the one you can't have.

Instead of answering, Jacaerys unexpectedly pinned her to a tree behind them, his body clinging to her like a puzzle piece, and his own hands wrapped around the hers.

-I'll always choose you - he announced, inches from her face, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

-Don't say that - she whispered, finally leveling her gaze with him - Don't say that. Don't say that, becasue I didn't ask for it. I didn't ask to be plagued by these feelings.

Y/n felt her heart being torn in half, allowing the memories to creep in. But then she remembered the gray irises that soothed her soul, gave her the longed-for oblivion, the hands that protected her and the voice that put her to sleep in the middle of the night.

And yet, she was no longer able to keep everything Jacaerys had once been to her, who he still was - a lover, a rock, a soulmate.

So she let it all in, let the pain tear her from inside, making her throat burn from how much she was forcing herself not to cry, and her eyes glazed almost like glass.

Brunet wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he let her escape from his embrace, letting her disappear into the depths of Godswood. Unaware that Lord Winterfell had been watching their close interaction, revealing a secret he was never meant to discover.

The night came quickly, and in the night came coldness that attacked every bone in her body. But the truth was that it wasn't the cold that was causing it but the feelings that hadn't left her for hours, taunting her.

Her lavender-colored eyes stared at the wildly dancing flames that warmed her face, giving it an orange glow, while one hand lazily glided between the fires until the door to her chamber swung open, causing her to be plucked from the ocean of thoughts, returning to the surface ,to the reality.

Cregan watched her like a wild wolf, wild as well as great, towering over the passage, blocking her only escape route.

With a look that said he knew. He knew something.

-The past can be painful - she said, her face was emotionless, but her eyes hid all the secrets that were in her - Love comes and goes like a gust of wind or a wave on the sea. I believe you know it, you loved and you lost... - she noticed reminding him of the woman who once held his heart, now she was its owner.

-We both loved and lost - he said, approaching her agonizingly slowly - And we both found love where we didn't want to look, in the arms of another - he added, kneeling in front of her, cupping her chin with his hand, stroking the smooth skin of her face with his thumb - But you my dragon , you have the opportunity to regain something that was once taken from you. I will never have that opportunity.

She wished meaning behind his words was unknown to her, but when her eyes saw Jacaerys standing by the door, hidden in the shadows just like she had been so long ago, looking at her as intensely, as passionately as he had during their affair, she knew her secret ceased to be a secret and became the truth that came to light.

-What if I don't want to? - she asked, looking straight at her nephew, wanting to see how he would react to her words - What if choosing the past makes me lose you? - she remarked more quietly, shifting her violet eyes to Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan looked at the younger brunet but it was only a moment, as if there was no need to talk between them, as if everything that was happening was planned.

-I saw your pain. I don't want to see it ever again - he announced, stroking the skin on her cheek, but her eyes still expressed uncertainty, hesitation - It's okay to love something you can't explain, it's okay to love us both princess.

-Just say the word - Jacaerys whispered right into her ear, and she turned her face towards him to almost meet his full lips in a kiss, surprised that he was right behind her ,without her knowing.

Y/n felt like she couldn't breathe, like something had crushed her lungs, preventing her from taking a breath, but as soon as she let out the first words, everything let go, the ropes were cut and the walls fell down.

-Never leave me again - she said to the boy before connecting their lips in a deep, longing kiss, tangling her slender fingers in his thick, dark curls.

She could feel the closeness of Cregan on her spine as he slid the white fabric of her nightgown off her shoulders, brushing her hair from her neck to kiss the skin in the hollow of it. His mouth was hot and possessive, completely different from Jacaerys's soft ones.

The northerner's hand slid down her body, engulfing her womanhood hidden behind the thin material of her underwear, making her whimper into her second lover's mouth as Cregan's rough fingers slid between her legs.

Y/n tried to focus on her breathing as two pairs of hands freed her from her clothes, soon to be kneeling naked between them, feeling vulnerable as their gaze devoured her.

-So wet - Lord of Winterfell muttered, playing with her puffy folds, coating his fingers in the juices that spilled from inside of her.

-So sweet , just for us - Jace said, sliding his hand down her neck, resting his lips on her jaw, planting sensual kisses there.

-Just for you ,both of you - she whispered, feeling herself falling into a state of blissful erotic drunkenness.

-You'll gonna feel us for weeks in your little pussy - Cregan added, slipping his finger into her center , rubbing against her bum.

The younger man kissed her again, his hand still on her neck, squeezing it every time she took a breath into her lungs, while the northerner continued to assault flower of her womanhood, making her leak on her inner thighs. Her abdomen burned with lust.

-You'll be good to us, won't you? - Jacaerys panted heavily into her mouth.

Girl nodded, no longer able to find her voice. Her toes curled from how close she was , how close she was to be pushed over the edge, but just as she was about to fall, all movements stopped.

-You won't cum until we say - Cregan said with a trace of malice in his voice, licking her juices from his fingers - You've been hiding your affairs form both of us. You deserve a punishment.

Both men stood up as she sat on her knees, naked before their eyes, letting them savor the sight of her fair skin.

Her attention was focused on Cregan while Rhaenyra's son was busy with his pants.

Her hand slid up and down his erection, squeezing him here and there , while her thumb stroked the vein on the side of his thick member and the head, smearing his precum to use as lubricant.

-Aren't you forgetting something little dragon? - Lord of Winterfell asked with a low growl, forcing her to turn to Jacaerys. His manhood, erected, pointed directly at her red lips, waiting. Its top shone with a transparent substance and Y/n leaned closer to lick it while her small hand continued to run along Cregan's shaft.

Taking Jace into her mouth, she pressed her tongue against his member as he slid down her throat. His long fingers tangled between her white curls, pulling at the roots just enough to make her whimper softly, and the vibrations traveled through his shaft to his spine, causing his head to drop with a groan.

-Just like that, good girl - Cregan murmured, her stomach jumping at his words and her chest spread with warmth.

Her thumb traced slow, enticing circles around the northern man's head before she slipped the other lover's member out of her mouth, focusing now on the wolf, kissing the tip of his manhood and licking it from the base. She felt his body twitch under her fingers as she swallowed him, running her hand over the part she couldn't reach.

-You're doing so well my love - Jacaerys praised her, pressing her head into Cregan's member until she choked.

When the young woman felt she was no longer controlled by the hand on her head, she pulled away from both men, taking in air into her lungs, panting breathlessly.

-Come on princess, let the wolf get a taste - the older brunette said, reaching out to pull her up and then kiss her as she stood in front of them.

The kiss was messy, wild, making her cheeks covered in saliva and precum.

-On the bed - Jace broke the kiss abruptly, grabbing the nape of her neck to make her look at him, slapping her left asscheek and striking it again as he felt her soft body tremble at his touch.

-Spread your legs, little dragon - Cregan said, standing beside the prince while she lay down on the furs in front of them - Show us what is ours.

Y/n propped her legs up on the bed, opening herself up.

-Play with yourself - sounded the next command and the girl didn't even know who said it, being clouded with desire.

A finger glided up and down her wet and swollen folds with ease, and her body quickly began to tremble as she ran it over her clit, circling the sensitive nub.

-Put those pretty fingers inside your pussy - came the next words, in a low and menacing tone that sounded almost animal-like.

Moving her hand down to her center, she did as she was told. Her hips met the movements of her hand as she moved, trying to find her sweet spot, meowing miserably every time when she failed.

-Faster - Cregan said - Come on, show us how pretty you look when you cum.

Playing with her like this, telling her what to do with her burning womanhood made her cum with tears in her eyes, and a feeling of her legs shake intensely. And before her senses could have return to her, Jacaerys laid down next to her, pulling Y/n against his warm, muscular body for her to wrap her legs around his waist in response, pressing her breasts against his chest as his big member rubbed against her puffy clitoris.

-I need to feel you around me - he murmured, grabbing her hips, rubbing her against his manhood, watching her release drip onto his shaft.

At the thought, the young woman could feel her walls tightening and her heart involuntarily jumping into her throat. And when he entered her, stretching her walls that he almost tearing her apart, it made her moan loudly, burying her face in his neck.

Cregan, however, gave her no time to adjust to her other lover, unable to help himself as her femininity struggled to take the prince all inside her, leaving a ring of white ,creamy substance behind.

Y/n felt the bed sink behind her, and soon the northernman's member entered her wet ,tight canal, leaving her breathless. Mixing pleasure with pain.

-You're doing so well , my good girl - said Lord of Winterfell, kissing her bare shoulder blades, covering them with bites and red marks - You taking us both so good ,aren't you? Your sweet pussy was made for us - his voice, though low and dangerous, trembled here and there as her walls tightened around the two members.

Her face was wet with tears and saliva as they mercilessly pounded her cervix. Their hands were all over her body, holding her in place as they feasted on her body, and all she could do was moan and mewl, taking everything they were giving her.

-She's so drunk on the feeling - Jacaerys said, watching her expression , when his lips weren't attacking her skin.

-It's so easy to break our little dragon - the older brunette added, pushing his hips out, grabbing her bum - But she looks so beautiful when she's broken, making me never want to stop.

Woman felt her body flooded with a wave of hot flames, which made her walls tighten, stopping their movements almost completely, making both of them, unable to stop themselves, and cumming deep inside her, filling her to the full, while a pleasant familiar warmth flooded her lower body, flowing from her after a while, which made her tremble, falling helplessly onto Jacaerys' torso.

The smell of sex filled the air like an intoxicant that possessed their minds that were already clouded with lust.

And so the seahorse and the wolf feasted on the white-haired dragon. Over and over and again , never wanting to stop.

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venusbyline · 4 months ago

Text

Fair Agreement (1/2)

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— summary: One drunken night is all it takes for Jacaerys to honor his promise about let his best friend fuck his twin sister. However, after years of a forbidden and incestuous situationship, Jacaerys can't help but feel jealous watching Cregan taking you right in front of him.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin sister!reader x Cregan Stark

— type: smut, modern AU

— word count: 2.7k

— tags/warnings: female!reader, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), threesome FMM (female/male/male), quite Jacegan too, drunk sex, rough oral sex (female receiving/male giving, male receiving/female giving), handjob (female and male giving), vaginal fingering, anal fingering (female receiving/male giving), rough kissing, degradation, hair-pulling, butt slapping, nipple play, nipple licking, breast worship, body worship, voyeurism, exhibitionism, overstimulation, Jacaerys' first time with a man, Cregan's first time with a man, safeword mentioned (no use), consensual underage sex referenced, Sara Snow mentioned, Stark Incest mentioned (older half-brother/younger half-sister), past Cregan Stark/Sara Snow, past Jacaerys Velaryon/Sara Snow, unestablished relationship, bisexual(?)!Jacaerys, bisexual(?)!Cregan, switch!Jacaerys, switch!reader, dom!Cregan. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

❥ Fair Agreement masterlist

— author's notes: I'm finally posting this smut, which was the most voted in that poll a few weeks ago 🥺🥺 I was so excited writing it, but I thought it would be better to divide it into two parts and post the last part until the end of the week. 💕💕 Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Jacaerys masterlist • Cregan masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

It had all been the result of hours of drunken and dirty talks. Your twin brother Jacaerys had taken you to one of his college classmates' parties for the first time. You had not visited England in a few months since you moved to Edinburgh, then the summer holidays were the perfect opportunity to see your family again and meet Jacaerys' friends.

Now, in the middle of the night, you found yourself lying in the bed you once shared with your dear brother. The same brother who was now stroking your hair while you moaned loudly, looking at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

"Is Cregan giving you pleasure, little sister?" Jace teased, his fingertips trailing down your cheekbones before breaking eye contact for a moment so he could see how his best friend Cregan Stark was starting to move his tongue faster in your bundle of nerves. "Be gentle, she's already kinda overstimulated."

Despite the hint of concern in Jacaerys' voice, Cregan pulled away from between your thighs to wipe his chin, damp with your juices. "Don't be an asshole, Jace. You're not the only one who knows how to please your sister." You held back the urge to punch the two boys who were talking about you as if you were not there. Instead of cursing them, you whimpered again and reached out for Cregan's short blonde hair, trying to draw him back to your pussy, but he just chuckled, managing to push your hand away and standing up. "No, no, princess. Now it's your turn to prove to me why Jace always tell me you're his favorite slut."

You tilted your head back to give Jace a fake angry stare, your cheeks as pink as Cregan's face after spending so many minutes so busy while he was eating you out.

Jacaerys shrugged, as if telling his best friend about the secret and forbidden affair he was having with his own twin since they were teenagers was not a disgusting thing. However, Cregan never thought about it in that way. The first time Jace let slip that he was missing the constant blowjobs you gave him, he almost choked, trying to understand if he heard those words correctly, and as soon as Jacaerys explained with a bit of hesitation about the situationship between the two of you, Cregan found himself tempted to continue asking for more details.

It was disgusting and hot at the same time, especially considering that during months Cregan kept the secret about he also fucking his own half-sister Sara Snow once when both of them were drunk on vodka. After Jacaerys told him everything, Cregan realized they had a lot in common, which made their friendship more special and relatable.

And if Jacaerys fucked Sara a few times when he visited Cregan's dad's house, then it was understandable that he should share his twin sister with his friend as well. It would be a fair agreement.

"Open your pretty mouth wide." Jacaerys demanded, holding his own cock and patting your chin. You bit your lip, wanting to tease and deny him. Jace was already very familiar with your bratty behavior, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back into the pillow. "You're being a fucking brat again." Cregan let out a low chuckle at Jace's frustration, his amusement turning to excitement when you finally obeyed your brother's commands and let him shove his cock deep down your throat, the quick gagging noise echoing off the walls as did Jacaerys' groan.

Fuck, he was longing so much for your damn mouth since you decided to study in another country, quite far away from him.

Jacaerys gripped your hair tighter to keep you in place, his dark pubic hairs tickling your skin lightly while you stood in that one same position. Your brother's cock's veins throbbed over your tongue and you closed the eyelids to focus on breathing through your nose.

As soon as Jacaerys noticed your silent breathlessness, he pulled the hips back, making Cregan smirk while he watched you cough, spit running down your jaw and even a little from your nose too, but neither of the boys cared about the mess. Jacaerys took advantage of how wet your tongue made him there and began to jerking off with one hand and wipe your face's mess with the other one. Cregan held back the urge to roll eyes at the excessive affection, already knowing he could not complain about that, after all, Jacaerys seemed like a sad puppy all those months without you.

Even when he was having sex with Sara and random girls from his college's campus or the clubs, nothing was so good like his little sister's mouth.

"I really wished to keep enjoying you giving me a head, but I guess my buddy is a little annoyed just watching us"

You looked back at Cregan, who was still kneeling between your legs on the bed and watching everything very carefully. He blinked quickly when he noticed that you were sitting up. Cregan did not even have time to retort to Jace's mockery, because you immediately held the shirt he was wearing and pulled him into an intense kiss, more intense than all the past ones you two exchanged since the three of you got home from the party and Jace reminded him about the agreement thought up weeks ago.

If Jacaerys was fucking Cregan's half-sister oftentimes, then Cregan had the right to fuck Jacaerys' twin sister at least once.

Yeah, it was a stupid and boyish joke. Later on, you could argue with Jacaerys about his thing with Sara and the random bitches he was having fun while you were away. For now, you would just enjoy the chance to fuck a handsome gorgeous guy while Jace watched everything like it was one of his favorite porns.

Cregan's kiss was not passionate like the ones you were used to exchanging with Jace. On the other hand, it was much rougher physically, his heavy hands gripping every curve of yours, rubbing your soft flesh and leaving marks that would be difficult to hide the next days. Neither of you minded that. You wanted him to keep pressing against your body, his tongue invading your mouth in a way that was almost considered animalistic.

His fingers dug into the sides of your breasts, pressing them together as he lay on top of you. The kiss was broken so you could moan loudly at the rude but pleasing treatment.

"Fuck..." Your whine sounded like a tearful exclamation, and both Jacaerys and Cregan laughed, Jace who was sitting next to you and Cregan who was panting with his large body on top of yours.

Lowering your swollen reddish lips to his neck, you nibbled on the skin and incited him to take off the black sweatshirt and the white t-shirt underneath he was wearing. His body was stronger and more muscular than Jacaerys' some golden and thin hair covering his chest. Your breath caught and your throat dried, thinking about how much you wanted to drag your nails on and make him moan...

"It seems my little sister is horny and dripping just seeing you half-naked." Your perverted attention was dispersed by Jacaerys, who pulled your scalp to force you to arch the neck back at him and stop admiring Cregan for a moment. "You look like a little nymphet, so greedy for my friend's cock."

There was a certain tension in your brother's voice that would easily go unnoticed if you did not know him very well and did not know how bad-tempered he could get when he felt ignored by you. Then, despite the need to just go back to kissing Cregan, you were going away from his touch to kneel on the mattress next to your twin until your lips met his.

Jacaerys' palms went to your breasts immediately, playing with your nipples and lowering his hands to your ass afterwards, slapping it while your mouths fought for power, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue each time Jacaerys refused to give in. After all, he was the firstborn child due to minutes, which he thought justified being the controlling person in the relationship.

When Jacaerys squeezed your ass with such worship, a bold idea crossed Stark's mind. Now completely naked like the twins, he got closer, smirking at the view of his best friend kissing his own twin sister as if he had been used to do it during years. In fact, Jacaerys was really already used to do it, which made the situation even hotter in Cregan's point of view. He could even pictured about what Jacaerys told him weeks ago, about how you let him fingerfuck your tight little pussy when you were both only thirteen, after he woke up with a morning arousal.

You were teenagers discovering about each other's bodies, and the intense kisses were no longer enough. Even though Rhaenyra suspected the closeness of her children and tried to force the two of you to sleep in different rooms, you always snuck into the boy's bed during the early hours of the morning.

"Dude, I hope you know that you're being a jealous weirdo right now." Cregan teased Jace, getting up from the bed and lifting you with him, causing Jacaerys' irritation. "I thought you agreed to let me fuck your sister."

He snorted, rolling his eyes and grumbled, lying down with his hands under his head. "I know I did."

While you were facing facing away from him and standing up, Cregan brought his large palm to your neck and pressed it tightly, bringing the other arm to your waist.

Cregan whispered something into your ear, eliciting a quick giggle from you and a frown from Jace. "What's so funny, sweetheart?" The classic pet name did not match with his lack of patience.

"Cregan suggested that you two should try to fuck both my holes together, so you won't feel mad."

Jacaerys was about to argue against what you said, however, he felt his face heat up when he thought about the whole suggestion. He already experienced many threesomes throughout his nineteen years of life, all of them only with women. He had anal sex with you in the past and also fucked your pussy while you had a plug stuck inside your ass.

But the idea of fucking his twin sister literally together with Cregan left his mind in a mix of horny and concern. On the one hand, it could be the most amazing experience of his sex life. And on the other hand, both of them could hurt you by accident.

The last thing he wanted was to overstimulate you beyond what he considered healthy.

"What if you can't handle it?"

The question sounded more tense than he would have wanted, you grimaced and Cregan continued pressing your neck and caressing your curves, an amusement expression at your lack of patience due to your twin's excessive caution. It was almost comical to see the impulsive womanizer Jacaerys Velaryon acting like an overprotective incestuous brother.

"I'm not a doll, Jace." You defended yourself and Cregan nodded with a sly smile, releasing his grip on your neck and nibbling on your earlobe right after.

He took a step back and turned his attention to Jace, who remained lying there in front of you, so gorgeous with his arms under the head and his slender but a bit six-pack stomach. His rosy cock was harder, waiting for the next action. "We won't hurt her. She'll tell us if it hurts too much. And she wants to stop, she'll just say 'red' or something like that. Or knock her knuckles on any part of our bodies if she can't remember the word or if she can't speak."

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, understanding that his best friend's argument was valid. The two of you always had a safe word and Jacaerys respected it every time you needed to use it. Actually, he also knew that Cregan would never cross the line with any girl, much less with his best friend's twin sister, the best friend who he saw as a younger brother.

After some silent time, Jace finally sighed and looked at you with his bright but worried brown eyes. "Sister, you don't have to take both of us at the same time if you don't want to. I can just watch—"

"Jacaerys!" You interrupted him abruptly, silencing him as you leaned closer, resting your hands on his thick thighs. He took a deep breath at the feeling and met your gaze, waiting for what you had to say. However, he could not say anything. You brought one of your palms to his needy cock, hard and heavy in your hand. "I really want to do this, okay? I'll take both of you, and Cregan will be good to me."

You stroked him up and down at a pace so slow that it was almost torturous. Jace bit his plump lip, wanting to keep asking if you were truly fine with that or if you were only feeling pressured to please him, his mind going into a complete frenzy when your small delicate hand pulled away seconds later, replaced by Cregan's, much larger and stronger. "W-What the fucking hell, Stark... What are you—"

Once again, Jacaerys' protests were interrupted by you, your mouth hitting into his and preventing him from trying to dodge Cregan's fist. The kiss was sloppy, a mess of tongues and teeth. Jace's body trembled under his best friend's rough touches, not really understanding why the guy was giving him a handjob. These type of experience with other boys never happened until now, and Jacaerys had never even considered it could happen someday.

"I'm relaxing you, dude." The blond mocked the Velaryon boy, and Jacaerys pulled away from your mouth with a mix of panic and pleasure.

"I-I don't... F-Fuck, I don't know if it's working, you idiot..."

You could not help but chuckle, the lower lip slightly stained crimson. Your fingers massaged his scalp and then his dark curls. "You look like a little nymphet." The repeat of his past tease about you angered him, a disapproving grimace appearing on that pretty face. “Oh no, babe. Stop the pout.”

"You're a mean whore, sister." His voice was breathless, the chest rising and falling and his legs trembling when Cregan suddenly increased his speed, more than Jace's body could handle. "O-Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..." Jacaerys writhed, whimpering and throwing his head back. His hips bucked forward, unconsciously seeking more friction. "Cregan, please..."

"This is so fucking hot!" You whispered, admiring your twin's submission, lying down at his side. Cregan smirked and Jacaerys whined with embarrassment, pulling you closer, licking your breasts and sucking on your nipple like a baby.

Without stopping his movements on Jace's arousal, Cregan spat on his own middle finger, index finger and thumb of his free arm and brought it to your wet core, rubbing circles on your clit. Making the entire act hotter than it already was, you and Jacaerys moaned Cregan's name at the same time and with the same tremble tone.

"I'll get you ready to take both of us, alright?" He asked you, receiving a weak nod as an answer.

Cregan fucked the tip of his middle finger inside your ass and you tried to recoil by reflex, a low cry of pain coming out from your throat. Jacaerys immediately flinched under his friend's handjob, distracted with worry due to the sight.

"It's okay, Jace. It's just a natural reaction of her body." Cregan explained to the younger boy. Jacaerys already knew that, after all, he fucked you in that way in the past too, but the idea of another man accidentally inflicting pain on you was enough to make him feel uncertain about continuing with the threesome, even though he felt so close to cumming in Cregan's palm and felt so desperate to fuck you together with his best friend.

Ignoring his own throbbing and aching arousal, your twin faced you, licking one of your nipples and caressing the other with care. "Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?"

Swallowing hard at his touches on your peaks, you nodded at him and Cregan, a bit of sweat trickling down your neck. "Y-Yes, I do. I want this, Jace. I want you and I want Cregan too. Please, brother."

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rhaenyra-storms · 1 year ago

Note

STOPP your drabble of cregan was adorable, we need more stories of him!! i would like to request something for cregan, where the reader is his lady wife and is introduced to jacaerys for the first time!! it’s up to you whether they have children of their own or it’s just rickon (cregan’s child from his first marriage), i like to think lady stark!reader would become eager to talk to jacaerys and his dragon!!

thank you so much!! i literally love writing for him omg. and i would definitely freak out too if i was able to see a dragon!! :,)

it got a lot longer than expected, but i hope you enjoy!!

pairing: cregan stark x wife!reader warnings: cregan is a little overprotective, that's it, just fluff words: 1.7k

You didn't want to believe it at first.

Cregan was sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell when the news arrived. A few scouts had spotted a dragon flying north at a rapid pace and tensions were high in the castle.

Winterfell was far away from King's Landing, as was the coronation of the new King Aegon, but the Starks and the North were still sworn to the Targaryens. You and your husband had already suspected that sooner or later, you would be dragged into their mess as well.

Judging from the little time you had spent at court in the South, you knew the Targaryen family was a horrible mess. When King Viserys made the decision to name Rhaenyra heir to the Iron Throne, you knew it would be catastrophic as soon as the old King would pass.

"Do we know who the dragon belongs to?" Your husband's deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Cregan always asked the right questions, to the right people, but this time... everyone seemed a little clueless.

You placed a hand on your husband's arm, giving it a little squeeze. "They will not attack alone and without an army. They don't have reason to," you said in a quiet voice, just for him to hear. Cregan gave you a soft smile as he looked over at you, but his eyes were filled with concern.

While an attack was highly unlikely, he couldn't really exclude it entirely and that was already enough reason for him to worry. He wanted to keep you safe and all the people in Winterfell.

"We should still proceed with caution," your husband answered, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze in return. He then pushed himself out of the chair, towering next to you, before he addressed the rest of the people in the room. "We will welcome the dragon rider into our home. With caution. I do not want to start a war with the crown, not when we have more important things to worry about."

Cregan knew the next winter would not be far and he needed to make sure his people were well-prepared and his men were strong. You had always admired your husband for his composure and his natural talent for ruling.

Two hours later, you welcomed the oldest son of Rhaenyra Targaryen into your home. Your husband had talked to him alone at first, using the Godswood as a sight of common ground and when a servant informed you that he wished for you to join them for dinner, you knew their conversation had probably been a positive one.

"Lady Stark," Jacaerys nodded his head at you as soon as you entered the Great Hall. He was a pretty man, his black curls a mesmerising sight. However, you couldn't deny that all the rumours you had heard about his father might be true then. He didn't have the signature Targaryen white hair and from the few times you had met Lord Harwin Strong, he seemed to resemble him quite clearly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Prince," you greeted him with a smile. Jace gently placed a kiss upon your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady."

Cregan watched Jace closely as you two introduced yourselves to each other, but after their short conversation he felt like he could trust Jacaerys. He had been kind enough not to threaten him with his dragon. Said creature was now waiting outside the Winterfell gates and he was sure the people of the castle couldn't take their eyes off it. The Lord of Winterfell himself could only describe the creature as mesmerising and a sight to behold. And he knew that his wife would probably love to meet a dragon.

The dinner went by quite fast and the conversations were lighthearted despite the general situation of the realm. Jacaerys didn't mean to only talk about the conflict between his mother and Aegon, but he knew that he had a chance to win Cregan Stark over for their cause. And winning over his wife as well in a way would be beneficial too.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, my lady?" Jace asked you after he placed his cup of wine back on the table. You could feel your husband smile next to you. He was very aware of the fact that you had always been fascinated by those creatures. Their freedom to fly, their strength and their sheer power. Dragons were pure magic in your eyes.

"Unfortunately not, my Prince," you answered, leaning back in your chair a little. Jace had mentioned "Vermax" throughout the conversation and you knew the dragon was waiting outside the gates. Its roars were hard to miss throughout the day.

"But I would love to. One day."

"Then today might be the day. If you wish to, of course," Jace gave you another polite nod and an inviting smile. The prospect of meeting a dragon had you ecstatic in seconds, but you knew your husband would suspect danger in this situation. He was more than right for that.

"I would love to accompany you two then." Cregan sounded determined, but still polite. A subtle sign for Jace to understand that he was good-willed, but still cautious.

The support of the North was vital to Rhaenyra's cause, so Jacaerys really didn't intend to mess it up.

"Vermax is a kind dragon. As long as you mean no harm." Jace waited for your husband to push his chair back and stand up first. You followed right after, hooking your arm with Cregan's as you made your way outside.

The sight before you was stunning.

It was already dark outside, but the dragon could hardly be missed. His olive green scales appeared almost black in the dark and your husband grabbed a torch from a guard as you approached.

"Relax, Vermax", Jacaerys spoke in Valyrian, making you raise your eyebrows for a moment. You wished you would have paid more when your family's maester had tried to teach you a few simple words in Valyrian.

"They're our friends."

Vermax' eyes turned into slits for a moment, studying both you and Cregan. The dragon was probably evaluating if you were a threat despite his rider's kind words.

"I've seen more outgoing dragons than Vermax, but he's a gentle one at heart," Jace explained.

It was fascinating to hear about dragons having different personalities and being a little more like humans in a way. Some were impulsive, others were shy. As a child, you had always wished for a dragon as a pet.

"It's... He's wonderful," you whispered, feeling your husband's arm wrap protectively around your waist. Cregan would rather throw himself in front of the dragon's teeth than watch anything happen to you.

"I know. Do you want to touch him?" Jace asked, his voice soft and inviting. "Only if you want to, of course. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way."

Excitement bubbled in your stomach. You could feel the heat rush to your face. All your childhood dreams seemed so close now – meeting a dragon, touching a dragon and pretending for just a moment that you could be a dragonrider too.

Cregan's grip around you tightened, a small reminder of how all of this could backfire. A cold wind blew by and you took a deep breath.

"I will be fine," you assured your husband, taking the time to plant a kiss to his cheek. A small attempt to calm him, but you knew that he would always be worried for your safety. The Lord of Winterfell only knew you were safe when you were in his arms, sleeping safe and sound.

Slowly, you made your way over to the dragon. It seemed to smell your anxiety and retreated for a moment. Jace put up his hand, a sign for Vermax to calm down – to relax. There was nothing bad that would happen.

You gave the dragon time, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you couldn't take your eyes off the creature in front of you. It still seemed wary, but after a few short moments, the dragon eventually bowed down a little, lowering itself to the ground. It was a silent invitation for you to come closer.

But you still wanted to get reassurance from Prince Jacaerys who quickly gave you a nod and beckoned you closer.

It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest when the dragon sniffed your hand.

Your husband was on the edge of his nerves behind you. His hand was already positioned at his sword, as if he would stand a chance against a dragon. "Careful, my love," he mumbled. He was feeling increasingly uneasy as he watched you and he let out a small gasp when you eventually laid your hand on the dragon's head.

Vermax closed his eyes slowly after he had eyed you enough. You weren't a threat. Not to him and not to Jace.

The dragon's skin was warm and hard, rough against the soft palm of your hand. "Seven hells..." you mumbled, watching in fascination as Vermax continued to relax.

Jace placed his hand on the dragon's wing for a moment, stroking it softly. "I told you he is a kind one. I would offer you a ride, but I think your husband might fall over dead if I do." It was a small jest, but it made you laugh softly.

You turned your head a little, spotting the Lord of Winterfell as he was tensing up more and more behind you. He forced a smile to his lips, trying to look more relaxed than he was. Cregan wanted you to fulfil your dreams, but he needed to keep you safe as well.

However, seeing you as happy as this, as your hand laid upon the dragon's nose, he couldn't help himself but smile a little more genuinely. His hand remained at his sword, but his shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Seeing the joy in your eyes as Jace told you more about Vermax and the dragon seemed to be content with your presence, Cregan couldn't help but think about how many more days he wanted to spend like this. Seeing you happy was the biggest light in his world.

He'd do anything to see that beautiful smile. Over and over.

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark headcanons #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark imagine #cregan x reader #cregan stark fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon #jace velaryon

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therogueflame · 6 months ago

Text

Twins Plus One

Hi friends,

Here is the final version of The Twins Plus One, a fic I started off as an example text for my good friend Aera, and then it was suddenly 8.2k words, oops. Enjoy!

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Summary: Your beloved brother, the Prince Jacaerys, comes to visit you six months after you wed Cregan Stark. He is embraced by the welcoming warmth of Winterfell's hearths—and the even gentler warmth of you.

Warnings: 18+, sex (p in v), oral (m!recieving), targcest (targaryen incest, mentioned regularly), threesome, multiple orgasm, cuckholding, no use of y/n, light descriptions of fem!reader

Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader x FraternalTwin!Jacaerys

MDNI!!!

You sat beside your new lord husband in the meal hall, the warmth of the hearth fighting the chill that had gripped your southerly bones. The table was laden with hearty northern fare—stewed meats, dark bread, and spiced porridge—each bite a balm against the frosty morning. Comfortable silence stretched between you and Cregan, his steady presence grounding you as the castle slowly came to life around you.

The creak of the door interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention as a young steward entered hesitantly. He walked forward with measured steps, his voice steady despite his youth. “My Lord Stark,” he began, “Prince Jacaerys has been spotted atop his dragon less than a mile away.”

Your heart fluttered at the words, anticipation surging through your veins like wildfire. You turned to Cregan, struggling to keep the smile threatening to break through the stoic mask you’d carefully crafted since arriving in the North.

Cregan, however, remained calm, barely glancing up from his plate. “Thank you, Steward Falk. We will be there to greet him shortly,” he replied evenly, his tone unhurried, as though the arrival of a dragon and its prince was a common occurrence.

The steward hesitated for a moment, then bowed and retreated, leaving you alone once more. The fire crackled softly in the background, the only sound as you rose from your seat. “I shall go and prepare myself, then. I will meet you in the courtyard,” you said, your voice steady despite the excitement swirling within you.

Cregan looked up at you, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. He nodded, taking a slow swig of his morning ale. “Very well, my lady,” he said simply, his deep voice carrying a quiet warmth.

You left the hall with deliberate steps that soon gave way to a quicker pace, your anticipation driving you forward. It had been nearly six months since you last saw Jace, and the ache of his absence had lingered every day since. Neither of you had ever grown accustomed to the silence that came with separation. You had spent your entire lives side by side, and now, for the first time, duty had driven a wedge between you.

Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, had bestowed your hand in marriage to Cregan Stark as a royal favor, securing his unwavering loyalty amidst the war against the Greens. It had been a shock, to you and to Jace, for you had always assumed you would one day wed each other—as was the tradition of House Targaryen. But war had a way of reshaping plans, and the need for alliances outweighed sentiment.

And so, you had come to the North, leaving behind the warmth of Dragonstone and the brother who had been your other half. Yet, despite your initial fears, you had found a kind of solace here. Cregan Stark was a man of unshakable honor, his rugged charm and steady presence offering a different kind of warmth. His towering frame and wolfish features complemented your fiery blood, a balance of North and South, ice and fire. He had become your home in a way you hadn’t expected, his strength and tenderness creating a bond you cherished.

Not only was he kind and loyal, but his passion burned as fiercely as yours. The nights you spent together in your marriage bed had opened a door to desires you had never known. While you had not denied yourself pleasures as a maiden on Dragonstone, Cregan’s touch brought an intimacy and rawness that surpassed anything you had experienced before. He made you feel wanted, worshipped, alive.

Yet, as you climbed the steps to your chambers, your thoughts drifted to Jace. Memories of your childhood together flooded your mind with a bittersweet clarity. He had a dragon; you did not. He teased you for your lack of effort, while you claimed you wanted no such responsibility. His hair was a warm brown and his eyes dark, while your hair shimmered like moonlight, and your eyes were the palest shade of lilac. He was measured and composed, while you spoke without restraint, always saying the first thing that came to mind.

Growing up, you had been inseparable, exploring not only the world around you but each other. “One soul, two bodies,” they had whispered on Dragonstone, a remark often meant to discourage the time you spent together. But it was true. You were his confidant, his sister, the bold flame to his tempered one. You were his lover.

The thought made you pause as you reached your dressing table. You smoothed the fabric of your black gown, your fingers brushing over the intricate red and white embroidery—a design that symbolized your Targaryen blood and the house you now represented. The striking contrast of the dark fabric with the vibrant stitching felt like a bridge between your two worlds, and it gave you a quiet strength.

Your hands trembled slightly as you swept your hair into a simple side braid, the anticipation thrumming through you too much to allow for anything more elaborate. The reflection staring back at you in the mirror was a mixture of composed elegance and barely contained excitement. Taking a deep breath, you draped the thick white fur coat over your shoulders—the one Cregan had gifted you on your wedding day. It was impossibly soft and warm, and you couldn’t help but love how its stark brightness contrasted with Cregan’s dark, commanding black cloak.

With one last glance at your reflection, you squared your shoulders, the weight of the moment settling over you. The castle felt alive, the air buzzing with the knowledge of who was arriving. And you—ready or not—would greet him, as both sister and the Lady of Winterfell.

You made your way down to the courtyard, where Cregan stood flanked by his courtiers, awaiting Jacaerys’s arrival. The fresh snow crunched softly beneath your boots, the chill in the air sharp but invigorating as you approached. The crisp northern wind carried with it the faint scent of pine and smoke from the castle’s hearths.

Cregan was deep in conversation with one of his men, his broad shoulders framed by the dark fur of his cloak. Without hesitation, you stepped to his side and slipped your hand into his, the simple gesture announcing your presence. The warmth of his palm against yours was grounding, a silent reassurance in the excitement swirling within you.

At the touch of your hand, Cregan turned toward you, his sharp gray eyes softening as they met yours. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he waved the man off with a curt nod, his full attention now devoted to you.

“My lady wife,” he said with a smile that reached his eyes, his voice rich with warmth. “I will never grow tired of seeing you in this cloak.” His gaze swept over you, lingering with quiet admiration before his hands rose to cradle your face. He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a gentle sigh escaping you as you melted into the familiar comfort of his affection. His hands lingered for a moment longer, steady and grounding, before one slipped to take yours. “And this dress, my love,” he murmured, stepping back just enough to take in the full sight of you. “What a choice you’ve made.”

With a slight tug, he beckoned you to spin, the embroidery catching the light as the fabric flowed gracefully. The intricate patterns told a story of unity, weaving together the symbols of the two great houses as seamlessly as your lives had been joined.

“Do you like it?” you asked, your voice soft as a blush warmed your cheeks.

“I love it,” he growled, his voice low and full of conviction. Before you could respond, his hands found your waist, pulling you close as his lips claimed yours in a deep, unrestrained kiss. His affection was unabashed, displayed boldly for the entire courtyard to see. The kiss lingered, warm and consuming, until a piercing shriek shattered the moment.

You broke away, breathless, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling. Your head snapped upward, your heart leaping as you caught sight of Vermax circling above. The dragon’s shriek echoed through the courtyard, and your eyes lit with excitement, the sight of your brother’s dragon bringing a rush of memories and emotions.

Your hand tightened instinctively around Cregan’s, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. As Vermax descended, his powerful wings stirring the snow-dusted ground, you could just make out Jace atop the saddle. He was still too far to see clearly, but you didn’t need to. You felt his presence like a flame reigniting something dormant within you.

Every fiber of your being ached to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms as you had so many times before. But duty—and propriety—rooted you in place. Instead, you turned to Cregan, your excitement uncontainable, your grin as bright as a child’s on their name day.

As Jace strides forward, your eyes remain fixed on him, drinking in the sight as if he is the most beautiful vision the gods have ever blessed you with. He is slim, like you, but there is a quiet strength in the way he carries himself. His dark curls frame his face, and you realize with a pang just how much you’ve missed every detail—the way his eyes glint with warmth, the faint curve of his lips when he smiles.

Vermax lets out a low, rumbling complaint, his golden-green scales glinting faintly in the northern light as he shifts restlessly. Jace glances back at his dragon with an easy smile, the kind that speaks of an unbreakable bond. The ill-tempered beast’s antics earn a quiet chuckle from his rider before Jace turns his attention forward again.

Cregan releases your hand, his fingers brushing yours in a subtle farewell, and strides toward Jace with measured steps. The two men meet halfway, the wind stirring the snow around them as the moment hangs heavy with warmth and welcome.

“My Prince,” Cregan bows his head, “What an honor to have you back at Winterfell.” Cregan clasps Jace’s forearm in greeting, his grip firm and warm despite the chill in the air. “I trust your flight was well?”

“My Lord Stark, the honor is all mine,” Jace replies, his voice cordial but tinged with fatigue. He flashes that smile that had always lit up even the darkest of days on Dragonstone. “The flight was well enough, though long. Dare I say I grow weary of being on dragonback for what feels like endless days. Vermax, too, was eager to find solid ground and rest his wings. The North's skies, beautiful as they are, stretch farther than I had remembered.”

Cregan chuckles lightly. “Aye, our skies are vast, and our winters endless, or so it sometimes feels. I hope the warmth of Winterfell can offer some comfort to you and your dragon after such a journey.”

Jace inclines his head with a faint smile. “A hearth to sit by and a meal to share with good company will do much to lift my spirits—and Vermax, I trust, will be content with a quiet perch and a hearty meal of his own.”

You try to stay still, to hold onto some semblance of decorum, but your heart feels like it might burst. Jace’s presence fills the courtyard, commanding attention as he exchanges words with Cregan, but your focus narrows solely to him. His voice—so familiar yet matured by time and distance—pulls at something deep within you. You barely hear their conversation, your excitement drowning out the words.

The moment Cregan releases his grip on Jace’s forearm and takes a step back, you can’t contain yourself any longer. You lift your skirts slightly and rush forward, your laughter spilling into the crisp northern air. “Jace!”

He turns toward you just in time, his expression shifting from surprise to unrestrained joy. The fatigue in his eyes fades as you throw yourself into his arms, your momentum making him stagger slightly before he catches you effortlessly. His arms wrap around you, warm and strong, as he lifts you off the ground and spins you, just as he used to when you were children.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he says, his voice filled with laughter as he holds you tightly. Your skirts billow in the wind, catching the snow-dusted breeze, but you don’t care who’s watching. All that matters is this moment—having your twin back in your arms.

“And you’re still late,” you tease breathlessly, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“I missed you too, sister,” he replies, his voice quieter now, his dark curls framing his face in a way that softens his usual sharpness. His eyes glint with warmth, the bond between you as unbreakable as ever.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Cregan standing with his arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I should have known I’d be second to greet you, Prince Jacaerys.”

Jace sets you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your shoulders as he grins at your husband. “Forgive me, my lord, but she’s never been good at waiting.”

“And I never will be,” you add, lacing your arm through Jace’s, refusing to let him go just yet. “Not for you.”

Cregan chuckles, his deep voice warm. “I see there’s no competing with twins.”

Jace looks down at you, his smile softening. “Not when you’ve been apart for this long.”

Cregan steps back with a knowing smile, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’ll leave you to your reunion,” he says, his deep voice warm and steady. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, soft with understanding, before he nods to Jace and turns toward the gathered onlookers, giving you both the privacy he knows you need.

You glance back at Jace, your arm still looped through his, but your eyes flicker to the towering form of Vermax. The great dragon shifts restlessly, his tail swishing through the snow, sending up puffs of frost. His golden-green scales glint faintly even in the muted northern light, and his sharp, intelligent eyes seem to search for you.

With a grin tugging at your lips, you release Jace’s arm and take a step toward the beast that looms like a mountain of muscle and fire. Vermax watches you approach, his head lowering slightly, nostrils flaring as his hot breath puffs against the cold air. The warmth he radiates is almost tangible, a stark contrast to the biting chill around you.

“Hi, old friend,” you say softly, your voice carrying just enough to reach him. Your hand rises instinctively, and Vermax lets out a low, rumbling croon, the sound vibrating through the air and your chest. He leans his massive head closer, his jeweled eyes fixed on you with an almost affectionate curiosity.

You press your palm to the smooth scales of his snout, marveling at the familiar warmth beneath your fingers. “It’s been too long,” you whisper, your voice tender. “You’ve grown even more magnificent.”

Behind you, Jace chuckles softly, his voice rich with amusement. “I think he missed you nearly as much as I did.”

“You’ve always had a way with him,” Jace says, his voice quieter now, a note of admiration slipping through the weariness.

You meet his gaze, holding it for a heartbeat longer than you should. “And I always will,” you reply softly, your lips curving into a small smile. There’s a warmth in his eyes, something deeper than his words, but you push it aside as you step closer and slip your hand into his. “Come. Winterfell isn’t as forgiving as Dragonstone, and I’d rather not have you freezing out here.”

Jace doesn’t resist, his hand fitting into yours as though it had never let go. As you guide him toward the keep, the snow crunching under your boots, the quiet settles between you—not uncomfortable, but charged, as if the air holds the weight of every memory you’ve shared.

“Things have changed,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is measured, but there’s something wistful beneath it. “You. Me. Everything.”

You glance back at him, your brow arching slightly. “We’re not children anymore, Jace,” you say lightly, though your heart twists at the reminder. “Life changes. That’s what it does.”

“And yet,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on you, “some things don’t.”

You falter for just a moment, your steps slowing as his words hang between you. You don’t turn to face him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—or worse, what he might see in yours. “Don’t, Jace,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not here. Not now.”

The warmth of his hand tightens ever so slightly, and you hate how much you notice it, how much you miss it when you let go to push open the heavy doors to the keep. The firelight spills out into the corridor, bathing you both in its golden glow, but it does little to ease the ache building in your chest.

As you step inside, Jace’s presence feels both too close and too far. You know the walls of Winterfell are not kind to secrets, and you know that your love for Cregan is true. But Jace—Jace was your first love, the other half of your soul, the person who knew every piece of you before you even understood it yourself. That part of you will always belong to him, no matter where life’s currents have carried you.

“I’ve missed this,” he says, his voice soft and raw, as he follows you down the torch-lit corridor. “Not just being here. You. Us.”

You glance over your shoulder, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s good to have you here, Jace,” you say, sidestepping the words he wants to hear, the words you can’t bring yourself to say. “Winterfell’s been quieter without you.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, though it carries a hollow edge. “Quiet isn’t always a good thing.”

You lead him toward the great hall, the scent of pinewood smoke and roasted meat growing stronger with each step. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a different life—one where the traditions of your house hadn’t demanded so much of you, one where duty hadn’t been placed above love. But it’s a fleeting thought, one that you bury as quickly as it surfaces.

As you pause just outside the hall, Jace reaches for your hand again, his touch as familiar as the way your name sounds on his lips. “We were supposed to end up together,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s no accusation in it, just a quiet truth that neither of you can deny.

You don’t pull away this time. Instead, you meet his gaze, your heart breaking a little under the weight of everything you can’t say. “I know,” you whisper. “But life had other plans.”

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the unspoken past and the impossible future colliding in the space between. Then, from within the hall, you hear Cregan’s voice, steady and commanding, calling your name. The sound pulls you back to the present, grounding you.

You step away from Jace, your hand slipping from his as you turn toward the hall. “Come,” you say softly, glancing back at him one last time. “Winterfell is yours for as long as you’re here.”

He follows, his steps quiet, but the way his gaze lingers on you tells you he’s already counting the days until he must leave again.

The great hall of Winterfell was alive with warmth and merriment, the crackling of the hearth mixing with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. The busy day had given way to a night of comfort, the excitement of Prince Jacaerys’s arrival lingering in the air like a shared secret. The North’s famous hospitality was on full display—platters of roasted meats, thick stews, and hearty bread lined the tables, while goblets brimmed with mulled wine and ale.

The hours since Jace’s arrival had passed in a blur of formal greetings and quiet reunions. You had spent much of the day guiding him through Winterfell, showing him the changes to your new home while reminiscing about the past. His presence brought a warmth to the cold halls, but now, as the feast began, the formalities melted into the simple joy of being together.

You sat between Jace and Cregan, the firelight dancing across the three of you as the evening wore on. Jace, for all his charm and easy smiles, was quieter than usual. He laughed when prompted, offered polite responses to Cregan’s stories, but you could see the fatigue etched into the lines of his face.

As the hour grew late, Jace leaned back in his chair, his goblet nearly untouched. He stretched slightly, the movement subtle, but enough for you to catch it. He was holding himself together out of courtesy, but you knew him too well to miss the signs of exhaustion.

Cregan, mid-sentence in a tale about a hunt from earlier in the season, paused as Jace set his goblet down and rose to his feet. “My lord, my sister,” Jace began, inclining his head toward the two of you. “Forgive me, but the journey has taken more out of me than I realized. I must excuse myself and retire for the night.”

Cregan nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, Prince Jacaerys. You’ve earned your rest. We’ll see you at the breaking of the fast.”

Jace turned his gaze to you, his dark eyes warm despite the weariness in them. “Goodnight, sister,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You offered him a small smile. “Goodnight, brother. Rest well.”

He inclined his head once more and strode out of the hall, his steps steady but slower than usual. The door closed behind him with a faint creak, leaving the warmth and revelry of the hall behind.

The walk back to your chambers was quiet but charged, the air between you and Cregan warm despite the chill of Winterfell’s stone halls. His hand lingered at the small of your back, steady and sure, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors. The firelight from your chambers spilled into the hallway as he pushed the door open, allowing you both to step into the inviting glow.

Cregan moved to pour himself another goblet of wine, watching you as you leaned casually against the mantle. The firelight played across your features, casting soft shadows over your skin. He studied you for a moment before speaking, his voice low and smooth. “You and Jace… you’ve always had a bond. It’s different. Stronger.”

You met his gaze, your lips curving slightly, but there was a flicker of something in your eyes—nostalgia, maybe, or something deeper. “We are twins,” you said simply, though the words carried weight. “But more than that. Growing up, there was no one else like him. He was mine, and I was his.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Yours,” he echoed, his tone curious. “How so?”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping away from the hearth and crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “Jace and I had what we called ‘twin time.’ An hour, every day, just for us. No lessons, no court, no responsibilities. No one else allowed.”

He leaned back against the table, his goblet forgotten in his hand. “And what did this ‘twin time’ entail?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, the memory heating your cheeks slightly. “Whatever we wanted. Sometimes, we’d talk. Other times, we’d sneak out to the cliffs and just sit there, watching the sea.” You paused, your gaze drifting toward the fire. “But as we got older… things changed. Twin time became something… more.”

Cregan’s gray eyes darkened slightly, his interest unmistakable as he stepped closer. “More,” he repeated, his voice dipping lower. “How much more?”

You glanced up at him, your pulse quickening under his steady gaze. “Enough that people began to notice,” you admitted, your voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite name. “We shared everything. Not just secrets, or dreams, but… everything.”

Cregan set his goblet down on the table, his hands resting on either side as he leaned toward you slightly. “And now?” he asked, his voice rougher, more deliberate. “Does he still hold that part of you?”

Your lips curved again, though this time the smile was slower, more intimate. “Jace will always be a part of me,” you said, your tone light but charged. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not exactly where I want to be.”

He straightened slightly, his eyes locked on yours, his interest piqued but his expression unreadable. “You’re an intriguing woman,” he said finally, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement. “I’m starting to think I’ll never fully unravel you.”

You tilted your head, your smile widening as you rose to your feet, closing the space between you. “Good,” you said softly, your voice taking on a playful lilt. “Where would the fun be in that?”

Cregan reached out, his hand brushing against your waist, his touch deliberate but teasing. “Fair enough,” he murmured, his gaze dipping for just a moment before returning to yours. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about how far this ‘twin time’ went.”

You let out a low laugh, tilting your head up slightly as your fingers toyed with the edge of his tunic. “Some things are better left to the imagination, my lord,” you teased, your voice warm and laced with suggestion.

His hand tightened slightly on your waist, a soft hum escaping his lips. “You’re a cruel woman,” he said, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“And yet, you married me anyway,” you quipped, leaning closer as the firelight danced between you.

The rest of the night stretched ahead, the warmth of the fire and the charged air between you promising no shortage of intrigue and intimacy.

It was the Hour of the Wolf, the darkest and stillest time of night. Jace wandered the cold halls of Winterfell, missing the warmth of the south and the closeness of his family. He was wrapped in a borrowed wolf-fur coat—one of Cregan’s—which hung loosely on his frame, nearly two sizes too large. His sword rested at his hip, his hand gripping the hilt tightly as though it could offer some reassurance against the chill that seeped into his bones.

His mind was restless, caught in an endless cycle of thoughts. The looming war dominated most of his worries, but beneath that weight was you—always you. For the first time in his life, he had spent more than a moon’s turn away from his beloved twin. Six months had passed since Jace had escorted you north for your wedding to Cregan Stark. He had known this day would come eventually—duty demanded it—but he hadn’t expected it to arrive so shortly after your twentieth nameday.

Cregan was a good man, steadfast and loyal, and one of the crown’s closest allies. Jace and Cregan were like brothers, and yet, Jace couldn’t shake the thought that he should have been the one by your side. Your husband. The way it had always been meant to be.

As he walks, his thoughts run wild over the last time he saw you in front of him. The way your hair, the pale silver of your mother’s lineage, cascaded down your back. The soft curve of your waist that complimented the curve of your breasts, and the pale violet of your eyes that reflected your undeniable Targaryen heritage.

You were his. And he was yours.

For a moment, the thought settled over him like a weight, but then a sound drew him from his reverie. Passing your chambers, he stilled, his ears catching faint noises from within. Muffled voices, sharp and low, and then a series of sounds—furniture creaking, a soft gasp, followed by something that almost sounded like a stifled cry. The noise carried through the heavy wooden door, unmistakable in the quiet of the castle.

Weary and restless, his mind leapt to the worst. Panic surged through him as his grip on his sword tightened. What if you were in danger? What if someone had crept into your chambers while Winterfell slept? He didn’t think. He acted.

Jace pushed the heavy door open swiftly, the sound of it echoing through the hall. His sword was in his hand in an instant, the blade glinting in the faint firelight as he prepared to strike down whoever dared to harm you.

And then he saw you.

You were mid-struggle, but not for your life. The man pinning you was no enemy, no intruder. It was Cregan, his bare shoulders broad and familiar, his dark hair tousled as he pressed against you with an intensity Jace couldn’t ignore. The noises he’d heard—your gasps, the creaking of the bed—suddenly made sense, and the realization hit him like a blow.

Cregan looked up at the sudden interruption, his expression calm, almost amused, despite the clear intrusion. His large frame hovered over you, his palms pressed firmly against the bed on either side of your head, poised with an authority that seemed unshaken by the scene unfolding.

You tilted your head back toward the door, your view of the world upside down as you murmured, “Jace?”

Cregan leaned back onto his knees, his broad chest rising and falling steadily, but he made no move to cover either of you. “Are you going to stand there like a frail pup,” he drawled, his northern accent thick, “or are you going to join us?”

Your eyes flew open wide as you shot a look at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Cregan!” you hissed, but he continued undeterred, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk.

“Your dear sister told me about what it was like growing up with you,” he said, his voice steady and low, as though he were commenting on the weather. “Targaryens and their queer customs,” he said, his tone calm but edged with dry amusement. “Still, traditions run deep, don’t they? Even here in the North.”

Jace stood frozen in the doorway, his sword still drawn, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process what he was seeing—and hearing. The confident, unshakable Prince of Dragonstone looked utterly lost for words, his dark eyes wide with shock.

“Jace,” you said, your voice softer now, though tinged with exasperation. “If you’re going to stand and watch, could you at least shut the door?”

Snapped from his stupor, Jace scurried to shut the door behind him, the heavy wood groaning on its hinges. His sword found its way back to its scabbard as he turned to face the room, his expression still a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“Come, my young prince,” Cregan said, rising from the bed with a deliberate slowness that made his towering frame all the more imposing. “I want to see how you pleasured her in the south. She is always saying how much she misses you.”

“Cregan!” you said again, though there was no denying the flush spreading across your cheeks—or the way your lips curved into a faint, playful smile.

Rolling onto your stomach, you propped yourself up on your elbows, your gaze flicking between your husband and your twin. “My dear brother,” you teased, your voice light and warm despite the tension in the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.”

Jace’s mouth opened and closed as he looked between you and Cregan, his confusion giving way to nervousness. He shifted uncomfortably, as though unsure whether to move forward or retreat. “Are you… sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, laced with hesitation.

You tilted your head, studying him with a fond smile. “It’ll be just like old times, brother,” you purred. “You always did have your way with me.”

Cregan moved toward Jace, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder, the weight of it steady and grounding. “Relax, lad,” he said with a chuckle. “The North is colder than the South, but we know how to make things warm.”

You rise gracefully from the bed, the firelight casting a golden glow over your bare skin as you cross the room toward where Cregan and Jace stand. The flickering flames seem to dance across your body, enhancing every smooth curve with an almost ethereal brilliance. Basking in the warmth, the blood of the dragon within you seems to stir, igniting a presence that is both commanding and effortless.

Your movements are unhurried, deliberate, each step carrying the confidence born of your lineage. There is no shame in your nudity; the fire of Old Valyria burns bright within you, and it demands to be seen.

Jace’s gaze is fixed on you, his dark eyes tracing every inch of your form as though committing you to memory. He hasn’t seen you like this in months—not since Dragonstone, where the two of you had shared moments of intimacy so profound that time itself seemed to stand still. Now, he is frozen in place, his tension palpable, his breath uneven. Yet beneath the restraint, there is something else: a mix of longing, reverence, and the faintest hint of disbelief, as though you are a vision he never thought he’d behold again.

You reach for him, your fingers brushing his cheek in a familiar, tender gesture. Leaning closer, your lips graze the curve of his neck, a breathy kiss that makes him shiver under your touch. His borrowed wolf-fur cloak slides from his shoulders with ease as your hands find the fastening of his tunic, the fabric parting beneath your deft fingers.

Behind you, Cregan moves silently, retreating to the foot of the bed. His presence lingers, calm and watchful, his steady gaze drinking in the scene as though it were a rare hunt unfolding before him.

You smile against Jace’s neck, your touch soothing and guiding, coaxing the tension from his frame. Gently, you take his hands and place them at the small of your back, encouraging him to hold you as he once did, to let the moment bridge the space that had grown between you.

Jace's hands trembled slightly as they settled on your skin, but the familiar warmth of your body against his seemed to awaken something within him. His touch grew more confident, fingers tracing the curve of your spine as he pulled you closer.

"I've missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His lips found yours, the kiss tentative at first but quickly deepening with months of longing and separation.

You melted into his embrace, your body remembering his touch as if no time had passed. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, tugging gently as the kiss intensified. The taste of him, the scent of him - it was all achingly familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

"That's it," Cregan murmured, his deep voice carrying across the room. "Show me how you used to please her, Prince Jacaerys."

Jace broke the kiss, his breath coming in short pants as he glanced over your shoulder at Cregan. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the desire burning within him. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips found the curve of your neck.

You tilted your head, giving him better access as a soft moan escaped your lips. Your fingers worked at the laces of his breeches, eager to feel more of him. "Jace," you breathed, your voice husky with want.

Jace's teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Gods, I've dreamed of this," he murmured against your neck, his hands roaming your body with growing confidence.

You arched into his touch, relishing the familiar feel of his hands on your skin. With deft fingers, you finished unlacing his breeches, pushing them down his hips along with his smallclothes. Jace stepped out of them, kicking them aside as he pulled you closer

His arousal pressed against your stomach, hot and insistent. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly as you captured his lips in another searing kiss. Jace groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily into your touch.

You guided Jace backwards towards the bed, your lips never leaving his as you moved together in a familiar dance. The back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he sat, pulling you down to straddle his lap. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples as you ground against him.

"Show me," Cregan's deep voice rumbled from beside the bed. "Show me how you used to take your pleasure from each other."

You broke the kiss, gazing into Jace's dark eyes as you lifted your hips. He gripped himself, positioning at your entrance as you slowly sank down onto him. Twin gasps escaped your lips as you were joined once more, the feeling of completeness overwhelming after so many months apart.

You began to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm as Jace filled you completely. His hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. The familiar stretch and fullness of him inside you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Gods, you feel incredible," Jace groaned, his head falling back as you rode him. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, drinking in the sight of you above him.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Your tongues danced as you moved together, rediscovering the perfect synchronicity you'd always shared. Jace's hands roamed your body, caressing and kneading as if trying to memorize every curve and plane.

From the side of the bed, Cregan watched intently, his gray eyes dark with arousal.

As you and Jace became lost in each other, you glanced over your shoulder at Cregan, who stood there, unmoving yet fully aroused. His heated gaze sent a thrill through you, only adding to the mounting fire within. You lifted your hips higher, grinding against Jace with a newfound urgency, your breath hitching in your throat as the sensations intensified.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your eyes locked with Cregan's. He knew what you wanted without a word being spoken. Slowly, he approached the bed, his steps measured and deliberate.

Cregan joined you on the bed, his large frame dwarfing both you and Jace. His rough hands caressed your back as you continued to ride Jace, sending shivers down your spine. You leaned back slightly, pressing against Cregan's broad chest.

Jace's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you sandwiched between them. His hips stuttered in their rhythm for a moment before he regained his composure, thrusting up into you with renewed vigor.

Cregan's lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, sucking and nipping as one hand snaked around to cup your breast. His other hand trailed lower, fingers circling your most sensitive spot as Jace continued to fill you.

The dual stimulation was almost too much. You cried out, your back arching as waves of pleasure washed over you.

The sensations overwhelmed you as Cregan and Jace worked in tandem, their touches igniting every nerve ending. Cregan's skilled fingers circled your sensitive bud as Jace thrust deeply inside you, the combination bringing you to dizzying heights of pleasure.

You threw your head back against Cregan's broad shoulder, a breathless moan escaping your lips. "Gods, yes," you gasped, your body trembling between them.

Jace's dark eyes were fixed on your face, drinking in every expression of ecstasy. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he drove up into you with increasing urgency.

"That's it, love," Cregan murmured in your ear, his deep voice rough with desire. "Let go for us. Show us how good it feels."

His words pushed you over the edge.

Your climax crashed over you in waves of searing pleasure, your body trembling between them as you cried out. Your inner walls clenched around Jace, drawing a deep groan from him as his thrusts became erratic.

"Gods, I'm close," Jace gasped, his fingers digging into your hips.

Cregan's hand left your sensitive bud, and you let out a exasperated whine as the sensation ceased. "Not yet, lad," he growled. "She can take more."

With surprising strength, Cregan lifted you off Jace, eliciting whimpers of protest from both of you at the loss of contact. But before you could voice any complaints, Cregan had you on your hands and knees on the bed.

"Take her from behind," Cregan commanded Jace, his tone brooking no argument.

Jace didn't hesitate, moving behind you and entering you once more with a low groan. His hands gripped your hips as he set a punishing pace, driving into you with renewed vigor. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your oversensitive body trembling.

Cregan knelt in front of you, his large hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His gray eyes were dark with lust as he looked down at you. "Open," he commanded, his voice husky.

You parted your lips obediently, watching as Cregan freed himself from his breeches. He was impressively large, and your mouth watered at the sight. Slowly, he guided himself between your lips, letting out a deep groan as you took him in.

Cregan's impressive length filled your mouth as Jace continued to thrust into you from behind. The dual sensations were overwhelming, pleasure coursing through your body with each movement. You moaned around Cregan, the vibrations making him groan deeply.

Jace's fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Gods, you feel amazing," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

Cregan's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you took him deeper. His other hand cupped your cheek tenderly, a stark contrast to the intensity of his thrusts.

The room was filled with the heady scent of sex and sweat as the three of you moved together in a primal rhythm. Jace's thrusts grew more erratic as he neared his peak, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. Cregan guided your movements with a firm hand tangled in your hair, his impressive length sliding between your lips.

Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure, caught between the passionate thrusts of Jace behind you and the powerful presence of Cregan in front of you. Your senses were overwhelmed as Jace's deep and forceful movements sent waves of ecstasy through your core, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The weight of Cregan on your tongue added an extra layer of intensity, his taste and scent filling your mouth as he moved with a controlled rhythm. You were consumed by the intense sensations, lost in a world of pure pleasure that seemed to have no end.

Jace's movements grew more desperate as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, sure to leave marks, as he pounded into you relentlessly. "I'm close," he gasped, his voice strained.

Cregan's hand tightened in your hair, guiding your movements as you took him deeper. "That's it," he growled. "Show us how well you can please us both, little dragon."

The overwhelming intensity of their combined attentions sent you spiraling towards another climax. Waves of pleasure surged through your body as Jace's firm thrusts found and stimulated just the right spot. With each movement, a low moan escaped your lips and traveled along Cregan's length, causing him to let out a deep groan in response. The air was thick with the scent of desire and the sounds of passion as you surrendered to the pleasure they were giving you. It was like being caught in a whirlwind of sensation, unable to control your own body as it responded to their skilled touch. And in that moment, nothing else mattered except the pure ecstasy that consumed every inch of your being.

Jace's movements grew frantic as he neared his peak. "I can't hold back much longer," he gasped, his fingers digging into your hips.

Cregan released his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull back. "Let go, lad," he commanded. "Fill her up."

With a few final, powerful thrusts, Jace let out a deep, guttural moan as he found his release. The sensation of him pulsing inside you sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Your muscles clenched and released in perfect rhythm with his, amplifying the intensity of your second climax. As you shuddered between them, pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, consuming your senses and leaving you breathless. Even as Jace continued to move through his own orgasm, you were lost in the blissful aftermath of yours, feeling completely surrendered to the pleasure coursing through every inch of your being.

Now it was Cregan's turn to fulfill your deepest desires and fill your womb with his potent seed. Where Jace's touch was gentle yet intense, Cregan possessed a raw, untamed energy that ignited a fire within you. His primal nature and unbridled passion were like a wild winter storm, sweeping you away in a frenzy of pleasure.

As you came down from your climax, Jace slowly withdrew, collapsing onto the bed beside you. Your body trembled with aftershocks as Cregan gently guided you to lie back.

"My turn," Cregan growled, his gray eyes dark with desire as he positioned himself between your thighs. He entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Cregan set a relentless pace, his powerful hips driving into you. Where Jace had been passionate yet gentle, Cregan was raw power and primal need. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he pounded into you.

"Gods, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "So wet for me. So wet for your brother,” he praised, each word punctuated with the thrust of his hips.

Your cries of pleasure echoed through the chamber as Cregan drove into you with powerful thrusts. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide as he pounded relentlessly. The bed creaked beneath you with the force of his movements.

"That's it, love," Cregan growled, his gray eyes dark with lust as he gazed down at you. "Take all of me."

Beside you, Jace watched with hooded eyes, his hand lazily stroking himself back to hardness. The sight of you writhing in pleasure beneath Cregan seemed to awaken something primal in him.

Cregan's relentless pace drove you higher, building the pressure within you once more. Your hands clutched at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you cried out in pleasure. The room was filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and your breathless moans.

"So beautiful," Cregan growled, his voice rough with desire. "Taking us both so well."

Jace moved closer, his hand trailing down your body to where you and Cregan were joined. His fingers found your sensitive bud, circling it in time with Cregan's thrusts. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards another peak.

"That's it, sister," Jace murmured, his dark eyes fixed on your face. "Let go for us again."

Your body arched off the bed as another intense climax crashed over you, waves of pleasure radiating through every nerve. You cried out, inner walls clenching around Cregan as your release washed over you.

Cregan growled deeply, his thrusts becoming erratic as your tightening pushed him over the edge. With a final powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his seed spilling deep within your womb. The feeling of his hot release triggered aftershocks of pleasure that had you trembling beneath him.

As you both came down from your highs, Cregan carefully withdrew and collapsed beside you on the bed. You lay there panting, sandwiched between your husband and your twin, your body still tingling from the intense pleasure.

Jace's hand trailed lazily up and down your side as Cregan pulled you close against his chest.

The three of you lay tangled together on the bed, your bodies glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the firelight. The room was heavy with the scent of sex and the lingering echoes of pleasure. For a long moment, the only sound was your collective heavy breathing as you all came down from the intense high.

Cregan's large hand splayed possessively across your stomach, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. Jace's fingers intertwined with yours, a familiar comfort that sent a pang of bittersweet longing through your chest.

"Well," Cregan rumbled, his deep voice tinged with satisfaction, "I'd say that was a successful reunion."

You couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped your lips, turning your head to press a kiss to Cregan's bearded jaw. "Indeed it was, my lord.”

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aeralux · 6 months ago

Text

"Close To You" - Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark

Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader & Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you last saw your dear twin brother, Jacaerys, after becoming Lady Stark of Winterfell. Surprisingly, your husband has no qualms about sharing his beautiful lady wife with her twin brother. As long as Jacaerys knows that it is still he, who brings his beloved wife the best pleasure she has ever experienced.

Warnings: SMUT 18+; Targaryen twincest; oral (m and f receiving); male masturbation; voyeurism; technically infidelity (but Cregan is fine with it cause it's Jacaerys); doggy style (again, yes. I'm sorry, but it fit the plot); foul language; threesome

Words: 11k

Notes: No use of (y/n) and no description of the reader. If you do not agree with the warnings, DO NOT read. I'm not responsible for the content you consume.

It was late, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the ancient stone walls of Winterfell, and your muscles ached. Your husband had once again taken you to heights of passion that left you breathless. The Stark men were known for their virility, a reputation that Cregan carried with pride. Though you had entered this union with apprehension, you found comfort in knowing Cregan Stark was a man of great honour and nobility. What was there not to admire?

Yet, despite the warmth that enveloped you in your new life, a deep ache resided in your heart. You yearned for your beloved twin, Jacaerys, with whom you had shared every joy and sorrow since birth. Until the fateful discussions of your betrothal began, you had envisioned a future where you would never be parted from him. But those dreams had been cruelly shattered beneath the weight of duty and expectation. Still, Jace’s assurances echoed in your mind; he had promised Cregan was worthy of your love, and you knew his praises were not spoken lightly.

Now, six moons had passed since you had left the warmth of Dragonstone to embrace your role as Lady of Winterfell, where the chill of the North wrapped around you like a second skin. The transition had been harsh yet strangely welcome. Your husband, with his quiet strength and reliable presence, had ensured your comfort in every conceivable way. He listened to your hopes and dreams and wrapped you in a love that had begun to soothe your loss. Each shared smile and soft caress deepened your bond. Cregan made sure that you were thoroughly satisfied in your marriage.

Your husband carefully freed himself from your warm embrace, placing a tender kiss upon your forehead—a fleeting touch, but one that spoke volumes of his affection. As he strode through the ancient halls of Winterfell, the flickering torchlight casting shadows upon the stone walls, he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. His keen eyes soon landed upon Jacaerys, who had only arrived two days prior, and his eagerness to be near his beloved sister was evident in the way he fidgeted.

With a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Cregan approached the young prince, claiming a seat on the plush, well-worn sofa before the hearth, where the flames danced, spreading warmth throughout the cold hall. “How are you faring in the North, my prince?” his deep voice resonated, breaking through the heavy silence that enveloped them.

Jacaerys looked up, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. “You have shown much hospitality, and I am grateful for that. My sister seems to flourish in the northern air,” he replied, his tone a mindful balance of politeness and reserve.

Cregan chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the fire as it crackled. “She does indeed find joy here,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “You know my affection for her runs deep. I do everything within my power to ensure her happiness.” The taunting light in his eyes betrayed the amusement he found in Jacaerys’ discomfort, fully aware of the peculiar customs that governed the Targaryens—a family known for their fierce loyalty and their tangled web of desires.

Before allowing Jacaerys to respond, Cregan took another measured sip from his glass, swirling the amber liquid within. His voice held an ominous weight as he spoke, "I overheard you yesterday. Pleasuring my lady wife..." He let the words hang in the air, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of the chamber.

Jacaerys’ heart dropped as he met Cregan’s steady gaze, shock and dread mingling on his face. The Lord of Winterfell was a mountain of a man, both in stature and presence, no stranger to battles. The very spirit of the North. “Cregan…I’m—”

Cregan cut him off with a low chuckle, his voice gravelly. “No need to apologize. I suspected as much.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I knew she was no maiden when I first claimed her. She spilt no blood and seemed all too familiar with passions—her cries echoed through the halls, begging for more.” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes as memories of their wedding night stirred within him, the warmth of it all washing over him.

Jacaerys stared at Cregan, bewilderment etched across his features. How could the man sit there, so unbothered by the knowledge that he had bedded the very woman he now claimed as his own?

“But!” The laughter drained from Cregan’s voice, replaced by a steely seriousness. “Remember, she is my lady, my wife, and she is to bear my heirs. A Stark must always remain in Winterfell.” The warning was clear, the kind of warning that came from a man who had carved his place in the world with blood and honour.

As silence enveloped them, Jacaerys began to gather his fractured thoughts, the weight of his intentions pressing heavily upon him. “Of course. She drank Moon Tea right away. I brought some with me,” he stammered, unwittingly revealing the purpose that had guided his way to Winterfell.

“Ah, so you did spill your seed in her womb,” Cregan mused, narrowing his eyes as if calculating the implications of the prince’s words. "Can’t say I’m surprised. After all, she was yours first, wasn’t she?” His voice had a teasing tone, reminding them that amidst the tension, their fates were still closely linked.

Jacaerys sat with his head bowed, shame flooding through him like cold water. Cregan, once a trusted ally and now a close friend, had become a victim of his actions. The weight of betrayal pressed heavily on his heart. "I did not mean to betray you in this manner, my good Lord," he admitted, his voice steady yet laced with regret. His brown eyes, usually bright, were now shadowed with sincerity. "It is difficult to resist a beauty like her." He cast his gaze downward again, seeking some semblance of justification for his actions.

Cregan leaned back in his chair, a bemused smirk creeping across his lips. "Tell me then... what did you do to her?" The words rolled off his tongue teasingly, lightening the heavy air between them. He leaned back comfortably, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Come on, indulge me," he urged, curiosity piqued. To anyone else, his fascination might seem perverse. Still, to Cregan, such matters were mere threads in the intricacy of life. After all, Jacaerys’s actions were but a common act in your ancient bloodline. And deep down, they both knew you were Cregan's now. And no man or God could take you away from him.

Jacaerys squirmed uncomfortably under Cregan's penetrating gaze, a flush of guilt and shame creeping up his neck as he recalled last night's activities. "I... I pleased her, of course," he began hesitantly, unsure how much detail Cregan wished to hear. "My mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her soft skin, my fingers delving into secret places to draw out her sweet cries." He paused, swallowing hard at the recollection.

Jacaerys let out a low groan as your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your waist possessively. He captured your lips in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring all his pent-up longing and desire into the embrace.

"Mine," he mumbled against your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim you thoroughly. His hands slid down to grasp your rear, squeezing the firm globes as he pressed your body flush against his own.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His beard rasped deliciously against your flesh, leaving faint red marks.

"I've wanted this... wanted you... for so long," Jacaerys panted, his voice rough with lust. "To touch you, taste you, feel your naked skin against mine again..."

He pushed the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, exposing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. Cupping your breasts, he kneaded the soft bosom, thumbs circling your hardening peaks through the thin fabric.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," Jacaerys promised darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked intent in the moonlight.

"Then... then I slowly undressed her, baring her skin to my hungry gaze. I caressed every curve, marvelling at the softness of her flesh." Jacaerys' breathing grew heavy and uneven, both from embarrassment and ardour.

"I took my time, wanting to savour every moment of our union."

Jacaerys growled low in his throat as your hands explored his body with such desperate hunger. He quickly shed the remainder of his clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor until he was bare before you, his manhood standing proud and erect.

"Greedy girl," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he pushed you back onto the bed, settling his weight between your spread thighs.

He hooked his fingers in your nightgown and practically ripped it off, baring your naked body to his heated gaze. His calloused hand cupped your sex, one long finger delving between your slick folds to stroke your sensitive, aching flesh.

"You are so wet," Jacaerys moaned, his finger sliding deep inside you, curling to stroke that special spot within. "So ready for your brother'..."

He added another finger, pumping them in and out of your clenching heat as his thumb rubbed firm circles around your pearl. Leaning down, he captured one stiff nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

The prince took a shuddering breath, steeling himself to continue. "I laid her down on the bed. I needed to taste her sweetness." He could feel the heat rising in his body as he spoke, arousal stirring once more at the mere memory of your joining.

Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way down your body, his tongue and lips exploring every dip and curve with agonizing slowness.

"Patience, little sister," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I'm going to take my time with you, make you beg so sweetly."

He paused to lave his tongue around your navel before continuing his descent, settling between your splayed thighs. He could smell your arousal, and see your swollen, glistening folds just inches from his face. Jacaerys licked his lips in anticipation.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he praised, running a finger through your dripping slit. "Missed your sweet cunny so much."

Without warning, he buried his face between your thighs, sealing his mouth over your sex in a deep, intimate kiss. His tongue delved between your folds, stroking and probing your most sensitive flesh as he licked up your essence.

Cregan listened intently, a flicker of amusement dancing in his grey eyes as Jacaerys recounted the intimate details of his tryst with you. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the very picture of a man engaged and intrigued. A wicked grin spread across his rugged features as yesterday's events replayed themselves in his mind's eye.

Cregan had just finished his nightly duties and was about to retire to his chambers when he heard the unmistakable sounds of passion spill out from the private chambers of his new bride. Brow furrowed, he crept closer, pressing an ear to the heavy wooden door.

What he heard made his blood run cold. The wet, obscene sucking sounds, the breathy moans and wanton cries that could only belong to one woman - his pretty wife. And the low, rough groans and filthy words of encouragement - unmistakably the voice of Jacaerys Velaryon.

Cregan listened intently from the doorway, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in every lewd sound and wanton moan spilling from your lips. He could hear the wet, vulgar squelches of Jacaerys' fingers plunging into your dripping cunt.

Cregan's manhood swelled and strained against his breeches as he listened to his brother-in-law worship his wife with such eagerness. He knew all too well the taste of your honeyed essence on his tongue, the feel of your velvety walls gripping him tightly as he fucked you hard and deep.

Nothing Jacaerys did could compare to how Cregan took you, could it? He knew you screamed the loudest, the longest when Cregan split you open on his massive length and pounded you into the bed until you saw stars.

Still, Cregan couldn't deny the eroticism of the scene happening behind the door - his little wife, flushed and writhing in pleasure, begging for your own brother's cock like the desperate slut you were.

"Aye, I've seen the way her body responds to my touch," Cregan murmured, a note of pride in his deep voice. "The way her nipples harden beneath my fingers, like ripe berries begging to be plucked." He chuckled softly, lost momentarily in the memory of your soft gasps and breathy moans.

"The way she arches into me, seeking more, always more." Cregan's lips curled into a smirk. "She's a passionate creature, your sister. It's no surprise she craves the touch of a man."

He sipped his whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. "Tell me, did she ride you with the same fervour shedoes me?" Cregan asked, a challenging glint in his eye. "Did she sink onto your cock with the same eager cries and lustful abandon?"

"I've had her in every room of Winterfell," he boasted a hint of pride in his tone. "On the great table in the banquet hall, bent over the balcony overlooking the godswood, even in the openness of the training yard, not caring who saw her lost in the throes of passion."

Cregan's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Did she scream your name as she came undone on your cock, or did she remain silent, saving her cries for when she's with me?" The lord smiled wolfishly, clearly enjoying the taboo conversation.

"She's a wild little thing in the bedchamber," Cregan smirked, "full of untamed passion and desire." He set his glass down with a thud, the alcohol no doubt fueling his bold directness.

Jacaerys met Cregan's challenging gaze with a smirk of his own, not to be outdone by the Lord of Winterfell's brazen boasting. "Ah, but did you hear her scream your name like a prayer to the gods when she found her release?" the prince retorted, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. "I assure you, my technique is... unparalleled."

He leaned forward, mirroring Cregan's posture, the air charged with camaraderie rather than hostility. "Perhaps it was how I worshipped her body with reverence, like a man honouring a goddess," Jacaerys continued, his voice low and teasing.

Despite the smirk on his lips, there was no genuine malice in Jacaerys' words, only a playful ribbing between two men who had come to know each other intimately through their shared bond with you. Cregan's chest rumbled with laughter, a sound of genuine amusement rather than anger.

"Is that so?" Cregan chuckled, taking another swig of his whiskey. "Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that account. After all, I've seen how she melts against me, her body moulding to mine like she was made for me alone."

With a final, winning grin and a clap on Jacaerys' shoulder, Cregan stood up from his chair, finishing the last of his whiskey in one long, appreciative gulp. He set the empty glass down on the side table with a soft clink, straightened his tunic and stepped away from the hearth.

"My lady wife awaits," Cregan rumbled, a note of anticipation in his deep voice. "It seems your sister's passion is not so easily sated, even after a night of lover's embraces." He smirked in a self-assured, almost smug manner, well aware of his role in stoking the flames of your desire.

Cregan flicked his gaze back to the fire before turning to leave. The warmth of the flames faded as he stepped out into the chill of the castle halls, his long strides ate up the distance to the bed chambers he shared with his new bride, each step filled with purpose and growing hunger.

As he entered the room, the soft glow of candlelight and the welcoming heat of the hearth illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the furs and silken sheets.

He took off his clothes methodically, folding his tunic and breeches and setting them aside with a carelessness that spoke of utter ease in his surroundings. Then, clad in nothing but his small clothes, Cregan approached the bed, his grey eyes glinting with a predatory light.

As much as his body ached for yours, Cregan knew that rushing headlong into their coupling would not serve either of them. No, he would take his time, would worship your body with the reverence and attention it deserved... even if the young prince had attempted to lay claim to your heart many times before your wedding day and the night before.

"Did you miss me, my lady?" Cregan asked, his voice a low rumble as he slid beneath the covers beside her. "Or were you still lost in the memory of your beloved twin's touch?" He allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth, knowing that no matter what pleasure Jacaerys had given you, it could not compare to the devotion and love Cregan held for you.

You stirred from your slumber, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as you noticed the empty space beside you on the bed. A soft, sleepy groan escaped your lips as your gaze drifted to your husband's larger form looming above you in the dark room.

"Mmh..." you mumbled incoherently, your voice thick with drowsy confusion. "Why aren't you next to me, Cregan?" you whined poutily, reaching out a hand to caress the empty sheets beside you.

Cregan felt a flicker of amusement stir within him at the playful, pouty tone lacing your voice. He lowered himself slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your furrowed brow, determined to smooth the wrinkle upon your delicate features.

"Did you truly miss me that much, sweetling?" he teased, his deep voice wrapped in an affection that warmed the air between you. His gaze, intense yet tender, bore into yours as he reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, trailing along the delicate curve of your jaw—a gentle touch that felt reassuring and intimate.

"I'm here now," he continued, the gravity of his tone momentarily giving way to a playful smirk. I had to see to some matters with your brother." The corners of his mouth twitched as memories of his conversation with Jacaerys flickered, a brief lustful glimmer lighting his eyes. The air around you seemed to hold a charged silence, filled with the unspoken bond you had developed.

You blinked at Cregan, your sleepy eyes widening as his words sank in. Your brother's name slipped off your tongue in a drowsy murmur. "Jacaerys?" you asked, leaning into his warm touch instinctively as you tried to shake the last remnants of sleep from your mind. "What matters did you have to discuss with him?" As you spoke, you sat up slowly in the bed, the sheets slipping down to pool around your waist.

Cregan's gaze drifted over your newly exposed skin as you sat up, taking in the way the candlelight danced across your shoulders and the gentle swell of your breasts. He felt a familiar stirring within him, a building heat. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you, his large frame dwarfing yours.

"He spoke of the night you shared," Cregan admitted, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Of the way he touched you, worshipped you..." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "As if I didn't already know how sweetly you yield to a lover's caress."

Your heart raced as Cregan's words sank in, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the mention of your secret tryst with Jacaerys. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, and hear the echoes of your stolen whispers and soft moans lingering in the candlelit bedroom.

Cregan's hands slid down to rest on your waist, his fingers splaying across the dip of your hips. He pulled you closer until your bare breasts pressed against his chest, the soft mounds moulding to the hard planes of his body like they were madefor him alone.

Cregan's hands slid higher, skimming over the curve of your ribcage until they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He kneaded the tender flesh, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Tell me, my dear," Cregan murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, "who do you think can bring you more pleasure? Your dear brother... or your husband?"

Your breath hitched as Cregan's strong hands caressed your sensitive skin, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. You found yourself arching into him instinctively, craving more of his electrifying touch.

"Cregan..." you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly as you gazed up at him through your long lashes. "My brother's touches are gentle, almost reverent... like the soft petals of a rose," you explained, your fingers splaying across the firm expanse of his chest.

"But you..." you continued, your pulse quickening as you leaned into him, your lips a mere breath away from his. "You bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed. Each time we join, it's as if the Gods have smiled upon me, blessing our union."

A fierce blush crept up your neck and painted your cheeks a rosy hue as you admitted, "I find myself to rather enjoy your... more forceful ways of loving me. The way you claim my body, it drives me to the very brink of madness..." you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan felt a surge of primal male satisfaction at your breathless confession, his heartbeat quickening with the knowledge of the effect he had on you. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you flush against him, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh.

"Is that so?" Cregan growled, a wicked gleam in his grey eyes as he drank in your flushed, wanton expression. "Then allow me to remind you just how thoroughly you belong to me..."

With that, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep. One hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist as he rolled his hips into yours, grinding his hard length against your core.

Cregan's other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he bit down gently, marking you as his.

"Mine," Cregan rumbled against your skin, his voice heavy with desire and possession. "You are mine, now and forever. I will have you screaming my name until there is no doubt who you belong to."

To emphasize his point, Cregan slid a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick heat. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his digits sliding through your folds with ease. "So wet for me already, love..." he purred, circling your sensitive pearl with maddening precision. "Tell me, who makes you burn like this? Who sets your body ablaze with need?"

"Oh gods, Cregan..." you whimpered breathlessly, your back arching as jolts of electric pleasure coursing through your body. Gasps and needy whines spilt from your lips, your fingers curling into his firm muscles.

"Fuck," you panted, instinctively rolling your hips against his fingers, seeking more of that friction. "It's you, Cregan. Now fuck me like you mean it," you demanded, your dragon showing its scales.

A low, approving growl rumbled in Cregan's chest as he felt your body come alive beneath his touch, your demands stoking the flames of his desire. Without hesitation, he flipped you onto your stomach, pushing you down into the plush bedding. He straddled your hips, pinning you in place with his large frame.

He touched you in a way that awakened a carnal desire you had never known before him. You craved his dominance, the way he could bend you to his will with a mere touch or a whispered command.

"As my lady commands," Cregan purred darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. His calloused hands slid around to grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh roughly. He slipped a hand beneath your hip, pushing it up and out until your rear was raised and presented to him.

"You have a magnificent ass," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble as he delivered a sharp slap to one cheek, making you let out a quiet whine in response.

Cregan flipped up your nightgown, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air of the bedroom. He could see the glistening folds of your pussy, the way your arousal clung to your outer lips. Unable to resist, Cregan reached out, delivering another sudden, sharp smack to your rear. The sound of skin connecting with skin filled the candlelit room, followed by a reddening handprint blooming across your tender flesh. You gasped at the unexpected contact, back arching as a sensation raced through you.

Your body trembled with need, as you arched your back, presenting yourself to your husband. Teasing him with the tantalizing curve of your rear, you breathed out your plea.

"Again," you whimpered, biting your lip coyly as you gazed back at him over your shoulder. "Please Cregan, spank me again."

"Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cregan purred, landing a sharp spank on your ass. The sound echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp. "Demanding your husband fuck you like a she-wolf in a rut." He spanked you again, watching the supple flesh jiggle enticingly.

You arched your back, a throaty moan escaping your lips as Cregan's strong hand connected with the supple curve of your ass. "Mmh!" Your body shuddered in response to the sudden jolt of sensation, a tingling warmth spreading across your skin. "Yes!" You cried out, your hair swaying with the force of his slap. "Please Cregan, more."

Trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, you pushed your rear up higher, unconsciously offering yourself to him. Presenting the round, perky cheeks of your butt for his punishment. "I need... I need you." you breathed out, your voice ragged with arousal.

Cregan let out a deep, approving growl at your wanton display, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the erotic sight of your arched back and raised rear. His calloused hand continued to rain down sharp slaps across the supple globes, watching in satisfaction as they jiggled and reddened beneath his touch.

"Such a needy little minx, begging so sweetly for your husband's cock," Cregan rumbled, delivering another stinging blow. His other hand slid between your thighs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. "So wet and ready, just from rough handling." He circled your clit with a teasing finger, feeling it swell and throb against his touch.

Cregan leaned down, dragging his tongue along the curve of your spine, tasting the salt of your skin. Slowly he pushed a long finger inside your tight heat, pumping it, relishing the way your walls clenched around the intrusion. "Tell me, sweetling, who makes this sweet cunt weep with need?" He added a second finger, thrusting deeper, harder.

"Oh gods, you Cregan!" you gasped. Pleasure sparked through you at his touch, your slick walls clenching greedily around the digits plunging in and out.

But you couldn't resist stirring his jealous nature, even in your heightened state. "And Jace... oh fuck, the way he touched me, it was... it was incredible." you moaned, dragging out your brother's name.

You knew Cregan would punish you for that, for even mentioning your brother's name while he had you like this. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your heart racing in your chest.

Cregan's jaw clenched at your brother's name falling from your lips, a surge of jealousy and possession flaring within him. He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving your aching cunny empty and wanting.

"Jace, is it?" Cregan growled, his voice a low rumble filled with dark promise. "Let me show you the difference between a prince's tender loving and a man's hungry lust."

He pushed your thighs further apart, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

You threw your head back as a throaty scream tore from your throat. The lewd, obscene slurping sounds of Cregan's hungry mouth devouring your dripping sex filled the room, mingling with your wanton cries of ecstasy.

"Oh gods, yes!" you keened, fingers scrabbling at the sheets beneath you as jolts of pleasure coursed through your veins. "Don't stop!"

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribs as you pushed your hips back shamelessly. The depraved act only fueled the fire burning in your core, clear juices of your arousal dripping down your trembling thighs.

"Fuck, Cregan!" you panted, your voice ragged and breathless.

Cregan latched his mouth onto your cunny, his tongue delving between your slick folds to lap at your essence. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he feasted on your dripping cunt like a starving man. His tongue circled your clit, flicked over it, and suckled on it greedily as his lips and mouth worked tirelessly to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling your ass back against his face as he licked and sucked and devoured you like a starving man. The obscene sounds of his greed filled the room, mingling with your shameless screams of ecstasy.

Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your flushed cheeks, your hair in a wild mess. Drool dribbled from the corner of your slack mouth, your jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Cregan's skilful tongue and lips devoured your most intimate places with a hunger, reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess.

At that moment, you knew with absolute certainty that not even the most skilled harlots could compare to you at this moment.

Cregan continued his relentless assault, spurred on by your screams and the knowledge that he was reducing you to this pleading mess. He could feel your body tensing, your thighs quaking against his head as your climax approached.

"Not... not yet, love," Cregan commanded, pulling back just long enough to growl the words against your slick flesh. The loss of his mouth on your cunny makes you whine pathetically.

As Cregan's skilled mouth continued to work its magic, consumed by a primal hunger as he devoured his bride's dripping sex, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the torchlit corridor outside their bedchamber. Unbeknownst to the lost-in-passion couple, Jacaerys had been making his way back to his chambers after his discussion with Cregan.

However, the prince's steps faltered as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his sister's ecstasy spilling out from behind the heavy oak door. Your screams of "Fuck, Cregan!" and the wet, obscene noises of a man feasting on a woman's most intimate place brought him up short. For a moment, he stood there, heart pounding, as he listened to the lewd symphony playing out mere feet away.

"Oh gods, yes!" he heard you cry out, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Don't stop!"

A surge of jealous fury flooded Jacaerys at the sound of Cregan's name falling from his sister's lips in such a context. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to barge into the room and tear his rival away from you. But even through the haze of his anger, he couldn't help but picture the scene - his beautiful sister, writhing in ecstasy on the bed as her new husband indulged greedily on her dripping cunt.

Despite the jealousy, Jacaerys palmed his hardening length through his breeches, imagining he was the one bringing his darling twin to such heights of pleasure.

He drew near to the door, his heart thundering in his chest. Jacaerys swallowed hard, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. A part of him knew he should leave to give you and your new husband the privacy you deserved. But another part that still ached with longing for your touch, urged him to enter. To see with his own eyes the passion that set his sister's blood aflame.

Jacaerys hesitated a moment longer before quietly pushing open the heavy oak door, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. As he stepped into the bedchamber, his eyes widened in shock at the utterly depraved scene unfolding before him.

There, in the centre of the room, was the bed. And there, upon the bed, was a sight that stole his breath away. His precious twin, his sweet sister, was on her hands and knees, her back arched in a way that thrust her hips up and presented the glistening, dripping folds of her sex to Cregan's hungry mouth.

The sight of Cregan's dark head nestled between his sister's thighs, of his mouth greedily devouring your most intimate place, made Jacaerys' heart clench with a pang of bitter envy. The nasty slurping sounds filling the room, punctuated by your shameless cries of pleasure and guttural moans.

"Fuck, Cregan! Yes, yes!"

Jacaerys stood frozen, hardly able to believe his eyes at how his sister was allowing herself to be taken, so wantonly and without shame. Drool spilt from the corner of your slack mouth as you lost yourself in pleasure, totally unaware of your brother's presence.

He watched, enraptured and appalled in equal measure, as Cregan pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy with each pass of his tongue, each greedy suckle of your swollen clit. The sight of his sister's pleasure was breathtaking and breathtakingly lewd, your body glistening with sweat and your arousal dripping down your quivering thighs. He had never seen his sweet, innocent sister so utterly consumed by carnal pleasure... it was almost too much for the young prince to bear.

Under his robes, Jacaerys' manhood strained against the confines of his breeches, the thick length throbbing and aching for release. He palmed himself through the fabric, his breath growing ragged as he watched Cregan devour your sex like a starving man.

You gasped in shock as you turned to see Jacaerys standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. Embarrassment flushed through you, colouring your cheeks a deep shade of red.

"J-Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice catching on a desperate moan you couldn't quite suppress. You were mortified for him to see you like this - on your hands and knees, drool spilling from your slack mouth as Cregan feasted greedily on your dripping cunt. It was a sight so foul and vulgar, so far removed from the sweet, innocent girl he knew.

He had never witnessed you in such a state of shameless abandon before. Always, his lovemaking had been gentle and tender, laying you down like a true gentleman before worshipping your body with soft, respectful touches. Seeing you mewling and writhing in ecstasy, your round ass raised and presented to your husband's hungry mouth... it had to be a shock for him surely.

He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming over your arched back, the reddened globes of your ass.

"Sweet sister..." Jacaerys breathed out, his voice thick with shock and a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the erotic spectacle.

"Brother, please," you gasped out between desperate moans and whimpers, your back arching as Cregan continued his relentless assault on your sex. "Don't look..." You couldn't bring yourself to beg him to stay, yet you couldn't bring yourself to beg him to flee.

Cregan glanced up at Jacaerys, his eyes glinting with a wicked, almost taunting light. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Why don't you join us, Your Grace?" Cregan invited, his tone dripping with mocking deference. "Your sister is a feast that begs to be shared."

Before you could utter a word of protest or pleading, Cregan's skilful tongue pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, back arching as you came with a loud, shameless cry that echoed through the room. "Ahhh!" you screamed, your vision going white as your eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.

Wave after wave of raw, primal bliss crashed over you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around Cregan's plundering tongue. You gripped the silken sheets beneath you like a lifeline as you rode out your intense climax, your body shaking like a leaf.

Cregan groaned against your flesh, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as he worked you through your intense climax with skilled licks and sucks.

Jacaerys stood rooted to the spot, his mouth agape as he watched your body undulate in the throes of ecstasy. He had never seen such a display of sensual bliss from his sister before, and it both shocked and aroused him deeply.

Cregan pulled back slightly, watching with smug satisfaction as your body shuddered and jerked, your honey dripping down your quivering thighs. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your release. "That's it, love," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble that carried to Jacaerys' ears. "Let it all out. Let your brother hear what a wanton little thing you are for your husband."

"Sister!" Jacaerys gasped, his voice strangled with emotion. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the erotic spectacle unfolding before him, even as a part of him recoiled at the display. This was not the sweet, gentle girl he knew and loved... this was a creature of pure, unbridled lust.

Cregan rose to his feet, looming over your still-trembling form like a conquering warrior. He licked his lips, savouring the lingering taste of your climax on his tongue. The smug smirk playing across his lips glistened with your essence in the candlelight.

Jacaerys glared at Cregan, his jaw clenched tight with a mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. As much as he despised the man's arrogance, he couldn't deny the way his groin throbbed at the erotic sight of his sister's limp, thoroughly pleasured body.

Slowly, hesitantly at first, Jacaerys took a step forward. Then another. With each step, he felt a growing sense of transgression, of crossing an invisible line. But the pull of lust was too strong to resist.

"I'll have you know my sister is not some... some harlot," Jacaerys growled, even as he came to stand beside the bed, looking down at your trembling form. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every intimate detail - the way your breasts heaved with each ragged breath, the glistening folds of your pussy...

"I... I'm not jealous," he lied, his voice strained. But as he spoke, his hand drifted down to adjust his straining erection through his breeches, betraying his true desires. "I'm just... I'm just concerned for her well-being."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at your nude, trembling form splayed out before him and Cregan. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but the sight of you so wantonly pleasured had ignited a fire in his loins that he couldn't ignore.

"The offer stands, Your Grace," Cregan said smugly, his hand still possessively groping and kneading the soft flesh of your ass. "Why don't you come to claim your share?"

With that, Cregan grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back, making you shriek and leaving you staring up at them both - your husband with his arrogant smirk and your brother with his conflicted, lust-filled gaze. Your legs fell open, giving them an unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.

You were flushed and panting beneath their appraising gazes, your breasts heaving with each ragged, uneven breath.

The fabric of your nightgown still clung to your chest, but you knew it wouldn't be long before Cregan tore it away completely. Soon, you would be bare and exposed before them both, a delight for their eyes and hands and mouths to devour.

Cregan licked his lips as he drank in the delicious sight of your naked body splayed out wantonly before them. He could see the way your brother's eyes roamed hungrily over your nude form, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the glistening folds of your sex. The air was thick with a tension that made Cregan's cock throb urgently against your thigh.

"That's right, princess," Cregan purred, trailing a finger along the curve of your breast, feeling your nipple stiffen at his touch. "You're going to be a feast for both of our appetites tonight."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Stark," Jacaerys warned, his voice low and rough. "She is my sister. Honour demands that I protect her from... from men like you."

Yet even as he spoke, Jacaerys found his hand drifting closer to your thigh, his fingers grazing your soft skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, could see the way your chest rose and fell with each desperate breath.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed, his voice strangled with a mix of shock and desire. "I must confess... I've never seen you like this before. Never imagined..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words, his mouth suddenly dry.

Cregan smirked at the prince's obvious arousal, his hand still possessively gripping your hip. "Aye, it's a sight to behold, isn't it? Your sister's sweet cunny, so ripe and ready for the taking."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to meet Cregan's arrogant gaze before dropping back to your naked body. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "And I find myself... craving a taste."

With a rough tug, Cregan ripped the flimsy fabric away, baring your naked body entirely to both their hungry gazes. Your breasts bounced free, the flush peaks puckered and begging for attention. Your cunny soaked with arousal, the delicate folds dewy and swollen with desire.

You gasped softly as Cregan tore away the fabric of your nightgown. With a teasing smile, you slipped the ruined garment off your shoulders. It joined the growing pile of tattered nightgowns you had accumulated since marrying Cregan - this was the third one this month...

"My, my, so eager are you to have me bare and wanting," you murmured, arching an eyebrow at your husband. "A simple 'take it off' would have sufficed, my dear husband. But I must admit, there's something thrilling about being ravished."

"My brother, you look as though you've never seen me before," you tease softly, reaching up to walk your fingers along the swell of your breasts. "It was only yesterday you had me? Have you already forgotten your sister's charms?" You shrug, the movement making your breasts bounce slightly, drawing their eyes to the ripe mounds.

Jacaerys swallowed hard as he watched your breasts, jiggling maddeningly with each subtle movement. The way you spoke, so calmly and playfully, only served to heighten his agitation. He couldn't recognise the lustful creature before him.

"I... I have not forgotten," he managed to say, his voice weakened with desire. "But this... this is different. Seeing you so brazenly needy..." He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and could feel his cock throbbing urgently against the confines of his breeches.

Cregan glanced at Jacaerys, his smirk widening at the prince's hungry gaze. "Isn't she a sight, Jacaerys? I've never seen a woman more in need of a man's touch."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from your breasts to your dripping sex. He could see the glistening arousal coating your thighs, the way your cunt clenched and fluttered as if begging to be filled.

"I've touched you a thousand times before," Jacaerys murmured, his eyes locked with yours. "But never like this. Never with such... hunger."

And with that admission, his hand cupped the heat of your sex, his fingers delving into your dripping folds. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around him, your slick arousal coating his digits.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed. "You're so wet. So ready."

You gasped sharply as Jacaerys plunged his fingers deep into your aching core, your inner walls clenching greedily around the intrusion. "Mmh, oh," you whimpered, gazing into his eyes with a hooded, lust-filled gaze. "Please, I need... I need you to take me. Hard." You arched your back, pressing your dripping sex more firmly against his hand. "Not soft caresses, but a man's forceful touch. Claim me as Cregan has, make me scream your name."

Cregan licked his lips as he watched Jacaerys plunge his fingers deeper into your dripping sex, your inner walls clenching greedily around the invading digits. Your needy whimpers and moans filled the air, spurring the prince's desires.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you writhed beneath his touch. You yearned to feel his hard length driving into you, stretching you, filling you utterly.

"Don't hold back," you pleaded breathlessly, reaching down to guide his other hand to your breast. "I want to feel owned, possessed. Ruined." you gasped again as he squeezed the soft mound. "Take me, Jacaerys. Fuck me hard."

Jacaerys shuddered at your beggings, his eyes darkening with lust at your shameless words. He could feel Cregan watching him, smirking at the prince's obvious arousal, but all thoughts of your husband faded away as he lost himself in the allure of your naked, trembling body.

With a low, possessive growl, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a force that stole your breath away. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hard, thick length of his cock straining against his breeches.

"My princess," he breathed against your lips, "I will give you what you need."

Jacaerys ripped off his doublet and tunic, baring his muscular chest to your heated gaze. He kicked off his boots and tore away his breeches until he stood naked and magnificent before you, his cock jutting out proudly from a thatch of dark curls.

Cregan quickly shed his clothing, his massive cock springing free, already leaking and throbbing with need. He grasped himself, stroking the thick shaft lazily as he watched.

"Tell me, Your Grace," he asked with a wicked grin, "have you ever taken your dear sister like the vixen she is?" He stroked himself lazily as he awaited Jacaerys' response. "Have you ever gripped her hips and pounded into her from behind, spanking that perky ass as you used her for your pleasure?"

"No, I must confess I have not. I have always been gentle and considerate with you, sister. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking down to your dripping sex before meeting Cregan's gaze. "I find myself wanting to take you in a way I never dared before. Hard and fast, until you scream."

Cregan chuckled darkly, giving his rigid shaft a slow pump. "Then take my advice, Your Grace. Put our princess on her hands and knees, and fuck her like the wild beast she is. Claim her cunt from behind."

"Not inside her, Jacaerys," Cregan warned, his voice rough with lust. "You're not to spill your seed in her womb. That privilege is mine, as her husband." He gripped his cock tighter, pumping it slowly as he spoke. "But by all means, have your fun with her needy body. Show me how you pleasure my bride. But do not forget, regardless of how loudly she screams, she is mine."

Your brother ignored Cregan's arrogant words, instead focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Jacaerys leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, dear sister," he promised darkly. "Scream until the whole castle hears who brings you such ecstasy."

Before you could respond, he had you flipped over onto your hands and knees in one swift, forceful motion. You gasped as you felt the cool air kiss your exposed, tingling skin.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you could see the raw hunger in both their eyes as they drank in the sight of your upturned rear.

Jacaerys gripped your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the way your body trembled with anticipation.

"Look at that ass, Cregan," Jacaerys growled, giving your cheek a sharp smack. The sound echoed obscenely in the room, and he watched with dark satisfaction as the red handprint bloomed on your skin.

"Such a perfect, ripe peach." He gripped your hips tighter and lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your folds, coating itself with your arousal.

With that, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. A low groan tore from his throat at the feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him so perfectly. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation and letting you adjust before he began to move.

"Yes," you gasped out, your back arching as Jacaerys hilted himself fully inside you. "Jacaerys!"

Emboldened by your wanton encouragement, Jacaerys set a fast, rough pace. He gripped your hips bruisingly as he drove into you again and again, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with each powerful thrust, the intense stimulation making you see stars.

"Does that feel good, little sister?" Jacaerys growled, his breath coming hard and fast as he took you. "Do you like the way your brother is fucking this needy cunt?"

Cregan watched, stroking his cock slowly as he enjoyed the show. "That's it, Jacaerys," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble. "Fuck her like the she-wolf in heat she is."

"Ohhh, god!" you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate as Jacaerys slammed into you, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks as he took you with force and hunger.

With trembling hands, you reached out blindly, craving the feel of Cregan's hard flesh in your grasp. But Jacaerys quickly pushed your upper body down against the bed, pinning you beneath him as he claimed you. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, hitting that secret spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Jacaerys!" you wailed, your back arching as you surrendered yourself completely to the intense sensations consuming you. "You feel so good!" you moaned shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care about anything but the feeling of your twin's cock driving into you relentlessly.

Through the haze of pleasure, you could see Cregan watching you, stroking his impressive length as he enjoyed the depraved spectacle of his wife being taken by her brother. The knowledge that you were putting on such a show onlyheightened your excitement, and you could feel your second climax fast approaching.

"Such a pretty girl," Jacaerys praised, his voice ragged and uneven. "Love your pretty body, love you," he whispered the last part, getting lost in the pleasure.

Jacaerys pistoned into you wildly, grunting and whining. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your waist, gripping you and occasionally caressing your sweat-slick skin as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys snarled, his hips slapping against yours with brutal force. "You feel so fucking good around my cock. I can't... I can't hold back..."

He leaned over you, covering your smaller body with his own as he fucked you with deep strokes.

"Scream for me, dear sister," Jacaerys demanded, his voice a low rasp. "Let the whole castle hear who is claiming this pretty cunt. Let them know that the princess is being fucked raw by her brother."

Cregan watched, stroking himself in time with Jacaerys' frenzied thrusts. He could see your face, contorted in ecstasy, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of your brother's cock.

"Look at her, Jacaerys," Cregan taunted, his hand a blur on his shaft. "Look at the way our princess is crying on your dick. She's loving every second of being split open on her brother's cock."

Jacaerys let out a feral growl at Cregan's taunt, somehow fucking you even harder. The room filled with the lewd sounds of your coupling - the slap of flesh on flesh, the creaking of the bed frame as it strained under the force of Jacaerys' thrusts, your high, keening cries of rapture.

"I'm going to cum, Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. "Don't stop, please!"

He gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by your desperate cries of rapture and your brother's grunts of pleasure.

Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamping down around Jacaerys' pistoning cock like a vice. "Ahh!" you screamed, body trembling as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Your juices gushed out around his plundering length, making vulgar squelching noises as he fucked you through your intense orgasm.

The sensation of your cunt gripping him so tightly, dripping with your essence, proved too much for Jacaerys. With a hoarse cry of your name, he yanked his hips back, his rigid shaft slipping from your quivering sex with a gush of fluid.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys roared, his voice strained with pleasure as his cock erupted. Thick, hot ropes of seed sprayed from the head, painting your upturned ass and the small of your back in a lewd display of your brother's spend.

Jacaerys slumped over you, panting harshly as the last spurts of his release dripped onto your skin. "Sweet sister," he gasped out, his hands still gripping you possessively. "I've never felt anything like that before..." He trailed off as he rolled to lay next to you, recovering from his intense climax.

Your body trembled and shook as the final waves of your explosive orgasm rippled through you. Knees weak and quivering, they collapsed beneath you, leaving you sprawled wantonly on the bed, chest heaving and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

But your respite was short-lived. Through the fog of pleasure, you felt the tap-tap-tap of a hard, throbbing cock against your flushed cheek. Your gaze fluttered open lazily, following the rigid shaft up to see Cregan looming over you, his eyes dark with lust and a smug, arrogant smirk playing across his lips.

"Mmm, that was quite the show you two put on," Cregan purred, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock over your cheek, smearing his arousal across your skin. "You screamed so sweetly for your brother, my dear wife. I do hope he satisfied you." He gripped himself and tapped his erection insistently against your mouth, the thick head pressing demandingly at your lips. "But now, it's time for your husband to have his turn. You're my wife, and I intend to remind you of that fact. Open up, princess."

Jacaerys watched, still panting softly as he recovered. He saw Cregan looming over your sprawled form, his cock tapping insistently at your lips. A flicker of jealousy sparked in his chest at the sight, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the depraved thrill of watching his sister service her husband.

Your brother's eyes met yours, dark and heavy with lingering lust. "Don't keep your lord waiting, dear sister," Jacaerys murmured, his voice still rough from their coupling. "Show him the depths of your devotion. Take his cock like the dutiful wife you are."

"Mmmm, yes husband," you nodded your head obediently and got into a comfortable enough position to service him.

Beside you, Jacaerys watched the exchange with a mix of awe and lingering arousal. He could see the way Cregan manhandled his twin, the way you submitted so sweetly to his demands.

You gazed up at Cregan with hooded, sultry eyes as you wrapped your hand around his thick, pulsing shaft. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and could see the way his cock throbbed eagerly in your grasp. Slowly, you licked your lips before leaning in and dragging your tongue along his length.

"Mmmm, you taste so good, my lord," you purred, your voice low and seductive. You swirled your tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the bead of precum that leaked from the tip. Then, with a moan, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by thick inch, until your nose was buried in the musky curls at the base of his shaft.

Cregan groaned, his head falling back as your hot mouth engulfed his aching cock. His fingers tangled in your blonde hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided your head to take him deeper. "Ohh, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking slightly as he fucked your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, my needy little wife. Show me how much you love your husband's cock."

You could feel him, so hard and heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips wide. But you were no stranger to your husband's cock, having pleasured him countless times before. You relaxed your throat and took him deep, holding him there as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes.

Your hand pumped what little of his shaft remained outside your lips, stroking him in time with the bobbing of your head. You could feel him twitch and throb against your tongue, could taste the saltiness of his skin and the first drops of his pleasure. You moaned around his thick length, the vibrations making his cock jump and pulse in your mouth.

He began to rock his hips, fucking your face with slow, deliberate strokes. His heavy balls lightly smacked against your chin with each thrust, a lewd reminder of his virility and your subservient role.

Jacaerys watched, transfixed, as your lips stretched obscenely around Cregan's thick shaft. He could see the way your throat bulged with each thrust and could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of you suckling your husband's dick. The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh.

"That's our princess," Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and rough with renewed arousal. "Such a good little wife, so eager to please her lord." He reached out to gently pet your head.

You could feel Cregan's cock pulsing. His fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he rutted into you, chasing his pleasure. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth as he fucked your face, grunting and groaning above you.

Glancing over at Jacaerys, Cregan smirked arrogantly. "I must say, Jacaerys, your sister has a talented mouth. No wonder you couldn't resist her. I'm glad to have such a skilled little bride."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he used your mouth. "Such a good girl, taking me so deep," he praised roughly. "You love having your husband's cock in your throat, don't you? Love being put in your place."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, holding himself there as he let you gag and choke around his thick length. The feel of drool dripping down your chin only spurred him on.

The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to Jacaerys' own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh. Your brother gripped himself as he watched, stroking in time with Cregan's thrusts. "Yes, dear sister," Jacaerys rasped, his voice rough. "Always been so good with your mouth, haven't you?" he murmured, reaching down to palm the globes of your ass. He could feel the sticky evidence of his release coating your skin.

You gazed up at Cregan with lust-filled, tearful eyes as he used your throat, spit dripping down your chin. The praise and the thick, hard length pulsing deep in your throat made your head spin with arousal. You didn't want to admit it, but being desired, being wanted, being taken and used by your husband and brother thrilled you in ways you could hardly express.

The knowledge that it was your dear twin watching, stroking himself to the sight of you being so thoroughly used, sent a shameful surge of heat straight to your core.

A muffled moan escaped you, vibrating around Cregan's pistoning cock as you submitted to his lustful demands. Being the object of such intense desire, of such primal, animalistic desire, stirred something deep within you.

Cregan felt your moan reverberate around his throbbing cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge. "Fuck, darling," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. "The way you moan around my dick, so desperate and needy..." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself deep in your convulsing throat.

Jacaerys watched, stroking himself in time with Cregan's pace. The sight of your tear-streaked face, the lewd sounds of your gagging and choking, the slack, drooling lips stretched taut around Cregan's pistoning shaft...

"You're a dirty girl, princess," Jacaerys raspy. "So hungry for cock, for the taste of your husband's seed. I've never seen such a wanton creature before."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with pride and smug satisfaction. "She's my wife," he declared, punctuating the statement with a rut of his hips. "A princess, but my princess, to use as I please. And I please to fill this greedy throat with my cum."

Cregan slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing and jerking as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of seed flooded your mouth and throat, the salty, slightly bitter taste of his spend coating your tongue. He groaned long and low, grinding his hips against your face as he emptied himself down your convulsing gullet.

"Fuck!" Cregan roared, his eyes squeezing shut in bliss as he pumped load after load of his seed directly down your throat. His fingers tangled carefully in your hair, holding you in place.

Jacaerys couldn't hold back any longer at the erotic sight, his cock pulsing and spurting his second load of the night, painting your ass and back with his hot, sticky seed as he imagined it was your hungry cunt gripping him tight...

You swallowed every last drop of Cregan's hot, thick seed, feeling it slide down your throat. As he pulled out with a groan, you let his softening cock slip from your mouth with a lewd pop.

Gazing up at him through a sheen of tears and lust, you lovingly licked his slick shaft clean, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head before dragging it along the throbbing underside.

"Mmmm, you taste divine, my lord husband," you purred, your voice raspy from the thorough fucking your throat had received. You continued to lap at his cock, laving every inch with kittenish licks until his hips began to twitch and jerk, his fingers pulling almost painfully at your hair as he whimpered.

"Sweet gods, woman," Cregan gasped out, easing your head back to put an end to your ministrations lest he find himself growing hard once more. "You seek to undo me, don't you? Such a wicked, insatiable little minx..."

You merely smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a deep satisfaction at having pleased your husband so thoroughly. Your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of his release on your lip before you sat back on your heels, the cool air kissing your slick skin and making you shiver.

Behind you, you could feel the heat of Jacaerys' gaze as he no doubt admired your glistening rear and the sticky evidence of his second climax.

Cregan gently wiped the tears and saliva from your face with a soft cloth, his touch tender after the roughness of moments before. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Look at you," he murmured, a rare softness in his voice. "Such a beautiful woman, taking your husband so well."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, no doubt tasting himself on your tongue. The kiss was full of satisfaction and a hint of awe at your enthusiasm.

Breaking the kiss, Cregan trailed his fingers down your neck, over your collarbone, to gently squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. "You please me greatly, wife," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Cregan continued his tender ministrations, lavishing your skin with soft kisses and gentle caresses.

You melt into Cregan's gentle touches, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips. Gazing up at him, you give your lord husband a loving smile, your eyes shining with adoration and lingering desire. You lean into his caress, savouring the tender brush of his fingers against your cheek.

Behind you, you feel the bed dip as Jacaerys comes to kneel. He nuzzles into the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"Mmmm, I could get used to this," you murmur, tilting your head to give your twin better access to your neck. "Being worshipped and praised by my two favourite men."

Jacaerys nuzzled into the nape of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist possessively. "You deserve to be worshipped, dear sister," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "A beautiful, insatiable creature like you..."

He swept your hair aside, exposing the elegant line of your throat. Jacaerys pressed his lips to your racing pulse, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. His hands slid down to your hips and pulled you back against him.

In front of you, Cregan watched with indulgent amusement as his wife melted under her brother's attentions. He leaned in, his breath hot against the other side of your neck. "Isn't she magnificent?" Cregan asked rhetorically, his fingers dancing over your collarbone.

Cregan placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, down to your chin, before tilting your face towards him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke along yours.

You melt into their touches, one hand coming up to tangle in Cregan's dark hair as he kisses you deeply, his tongue stroking along yours. Your other hand reaches back to grip Jacaerys' hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Jacaerys presses against your back, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You moan into Cregan's mouth and arch into your brother's embrace as his lips worship the column of your throat.

"You're my wife, and I trust you both," Cregan said with a nod to Jacaerys. "As long as I'm present, I have no objections to you sharing intimate moments with my lady. In fact," he added with a smirk, "I find it rather arousing to watch you pleasure each other." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "Just remember, dear wife, that sweet cunt belongs to me. No matter how many times your brother fucks you, no matter how much you scream and cum on his cock, you're still my wife. Your womb is mine to fill."

You gazed up at Cregan, your heart fluttering in your chest as you took in his rugged, handsome features. Unable to resist, you peppered his chiselled face with soft, loving kisses, your lips brushing against his skin like the wings of a butterfly.

"My darling husband," you murmured between kisses, your voice breathy with lingering desire, "you honour me with your blessing. I am yours, body and soul, now and forever." You nuzzled into his cheek, breathing in his masculine scent. "I long for the day I can carry your child, to swell with the evidence of our love."

Cregan's eyes softened as he listened to your heartfelt declaration, tenderness flickering in their stormy depths. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Jacaerys met Cregan's gaze, a matching smirk on his lips as he felt your slick arousal coating his fingers. "Your wife is exquisite, my lord," he murmured, pumping two long digits into your tight channel. "I look forward to sharing her many pleasures with you."

Cregan nodded, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, to where Jacaerys' fingers already teased your dripping slit.

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houseofthedragonn · 1 month ago

Note

Girlypop I need someone to write about cregan x reader x Jacaerys. I need someone to write this please girlypop don't disappoint me 🥹. Feel free to write any ideas you have🙏

in the middle

cregan x reader x jacaerys

synopsis - you ride to the wall from dorne to treat with cregan and jace, and you cannot choose which is more handsome—so they don’t make you…

warnings - smut, threesome

“Princess Martell,” Cregan and Jace greeted, kissing my hand upon our meeting out in the cold at Castle Black’s gate.

“My Lord… my Prince…” I smiled, my gaze lingering on their lips. Their eyes did the same, staring at my mouth, making clouds of ice as I spoke.

Invited by raven to treat at the Wall with Lord Cregan Stark and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, I accepted.

On behalf of House Martell, as Dorne’s ruling Princess. And commander of my troops for four years since my sixteenth nameday. Rhaenyra wanted us on her side against the Greens. As a descendant of Nymeria, I was already onboard to help another woman take back her rightful throne that a man usurped. But still acted as if I needed some convincing so I could treat with her son and their trusted ally. I would be lying if I denied my feelings of anticipation about meeting the realm’s rumored to be most handsome young Lord and Prince.

Seeing for myself that all the rumors were more than true.

They led me inside the castle gate’s, past congregating men of the Night’s Watch. All pushing their way past one another to see the pretty Princess of Dorne, since there were no women allowed at the wall. None unless they commanded an army as I did. Cregan, Jace, and I negotiated about my men and women fighting for Rhaenyra.

Negotiating over cups of wine, besides the roaring hearth crackling in the corner of handsome, young Lord Stark’s study.

“It is a great honor that you rode all this way. The tales of your great beauty do not do you justice, Princess…” Jace was the first to flatter me warmly, his dragon flying in circles above the castle I saw out the window.

“Aye, that they do not… and I don’t know many men who would dare make the journey you have, Princess,” Cregan, colder in demeanor than the warm, welcoming Prince, still seemed impressed. “The realm’s rumors of you being Nymeria reborn appear to be true… strength, beauty, and all…”

“The realm’s rumors of you two being the most handsome Lord and Prince appear to be true as well,” I spoke freely, as ruler of my own free kingdom, I never had to hold my tongue. “But I cannot choose which one of you is more handsome…”

Leaving them both caught off guard, I kept sipping the Dornish red I brought as a gift. Until the sweet, strongwine was drained from my cup, which Cregan kindly refilled for all three of us. On yet another cup after a few several hours of negotiating.

“We would never ask you to choose, Princess…” Jacaerys lilted with a different tone than before, a more sensual one.

After a knowing look was exchanged between him and Stark.

A long time passed with just the fire crackling filling the silence as I drained my cup again, this time because they caught me off guard. Cregan’s hand rested on mine after taking the empty cup from my hand. Gently, but firm, he held my hand in his much bigger one. Bringing it to his lips again. Jace grabbed my other hand and did the same.

“You don’t have to choose… you’re the warrior Princess of Dorne,” Stark started kissing up my arm as Jacaerys did the same, kissing his way up my other. “You can have us both…”

Both stopped when they reached my collarbone, exposed in my revealing Dornish dress after I unclasped my cloak. I looked down to see them both looking up at me longingly and they were right, I did not want to choose. I just wanted them. Both of them.

“Then both of you is what I shall have…” I sighed, smiling wide, warm from the wine and feeling both of them gave me.

Their kisses on my collarbone made me melt into my chair before the fire. Their lips left my skin with a wet sound before rising from their seats. Each holding out their hands to help me stand. I took both of their hands and let them lead out of the study downstairs to Stark’s chambers. Castle empty after they commanded all of the men to stand guard outside, no one was around to question why we all entered the Lord’s quarters hand in hand, in hand. Cregan slammed the heavy door shut behind him. Tearing off his wolf’s fur cloak, he let it sink to the stone floor. Jace unclasped him own and abandoned it to the ground just the same. Both with one hand as their other hands never let mine go. Leading me by the hand towards Stark’s large featherbed. I let them pull me onto it before they pinned me down. Prince on my left, and Lord on my right. They left more kisses on my collarbone leading up my bare neck. Along my jaw. Until they reached my lips. Fighting for my mouth.

I ran my hands through both of their thick hair. Through Jace’s black curls and Cregan’s chestnut strands.

Taking turns kissing both, feeling and hearing the wet sounds of all our tongues. I impatiently pulled at their fine clothes and my demand was heeded. Immediately both began to undress, tossing their shirts and undershirts to the stone floor below. Their trousers next, I laid there in my dress, desperately trying to take it off as I watched them. They only laughed, stepping out of bed and out of their britches. Falling to the ground with soft thuds, piling in the pool of their fine clothes trailing from the door to the bed. My lips fell open, ravenous at the sight.

Stark was noticeably bigger than the lean Targaryen prince—broader shouldered and more muscular, as he was older.

Even his cock was bigger, at least thicker than the Targaryen prince, whose cock was longer. Both red and aching with want. I crawled towards them on my hands and knees, reaching the end of the featherbed. They took advantage of my exposed back to unlace my dress. Then my corset. Letting both fall away after they discarded my fine clothes to the floor. Only left in my chemise underdress, I shrugged the shift off desperately. Tossing it to the pile. They both joined me on the bed, all our bodies bare.

“You’re beautiful, Princess…” Jace sighed, running his hands over my bare frame, gently caressing curves of my breasts.

Cregan pinned my hands above my head to keep me from hiding myself from them, “She’s more than beautiful, my Prince… you’re gorgeous, my Princess…”

I writhed under their touches. They both brought their mouths back to my neck. Kissing hard until they left lovebites on each side of my throat. Moans left my lips, drawing their attention back towards my mouth theirs left swollen and wet. Tongues fighting for control. Before I got on my hands and knees again before them on the bed. Looking up at the desperately, they let me take turns taking their cocks in my mouth ravenously. Wet sounds of my lips wrapping around Jace’s cock first and taking Cregan in my hand filled Stark’s chambers along with the fire’s roar and crackle.

“Seven fucking hells, Princess… your mouth feels better than the heavens…” Jacaerys groaned as I sucked his hard cock, his hands tangling themselves in and tugging on my hair harshly.

“I bet her cunt feels even better… gods, you’re already so wet for us, pretty Princess…” Cregan flashed his wolfish grin down at me after reaching between my thighs, knelt before the next King of Westeros, as my hand pumped Lord Stark’s big cock.

I switched, my lips going to Cregan’s cock and sucking his hard length, and my other hand gripping Jace’s and pumping. My head spinning from hearing how I made them moan my name as they gripped my hair, bobbing my head up and down. With the wet sounds and feel of my spit covering both of them.

“Only for you, my Lord… and my Prince…” I sighed, after my mouth pulled off of them for air. Panting with my wet lips parted, swollen from sucking their cocks.

“If it’s only for us, you won’t mind if we take you at the same time, beautiful?” Jacaerys asked with a daring glint in his eye, a knowing look directed at Cregan who seemed in agreement.

The handsome Prince held my face in his hands as he asked, or rather demanded, gently. After choking trying to take all of his long cock deep in my throat.

“Please…” I pleaded, near begging to be filled with them both.

“You need only ask, our pretty Princess…” Stark stroked himself watching me, a pleading mess, and soon he and the insatiable Targaryen were hard again.

I let them manhandle me, making me switch so I faced Cregan with Jace taking hold of hips.

The Prince burying himself in my cunt first, without warning, I cried out, “Fucking hells, Jace! Feels so good…”

While Stark was thicker, Jacaerys was longer, hitting a spot deeper inside me.

“Fuck, you’re tight, Princess…” Jace groaned as he bottomed out inside me.

I clenched at the sudden fullness, my moans mixing with his. Until Cregan’s cock slipped past my lips. Choking on his thick cock, my mouth stretched to fit him. Pumping the last few inches I could not take in my throat with my hands. Moaning around his length, making Stark groan in return. Soon they found a steady rhythm, both moving in and out of me as a dizzying pace. I just them, clenching and sucking around them both. Sounds of our sex filled Stark’s chambers over the crackling hearth at the foot of our bed. I felt close after a while, the pressure too much.

Before I could reach my release, they suddenly switched.

Jace back in my mouth as Cregan’s cock sank deep inside of me. Hitting the same spot Jace did, again and again. My cunt stretching a bit more, how it stretched to fit the Prince just moments before.

“Good gods, you are tight, gorgeous…” Stark groaned as he bottomed out in my cunt.

I moaned around Jacaerys as the Wolf of the North started slow at first, before being unable to restrain his animalistic stamina. Sucking the Prince’s cock harder as the Lord fucked me faster. Clenching around him, and getting sloppier with my mouth, they both knew I was close.

“Come for us, our Princess…” Jace sighed as he pulled my hair, fucking my face he held in place with his hands.

I felt Stark start to circle my clit with his fingers as Jacaerys squeezed my breasts while I was on my hands and knees for them. That pushed me over the edge, coming around Cregan’s cock, with my mouth a moaning mess around Jace. They both moaned my name as they chased their release right after mine. Warmth washed over me from inside my cunt and mouth. I swallowed whole as my cunt had both their cocks. Wiping my lips clean, the Prince pulled out of my mouth. After slowing to a stop, Stark did the same, emptying out of my cunt.

Spent, we all collapsed on the wolf’s fur blankets adorning the large feather bed. A tangle of limbs, lying in between them.

A long, passionately sloppy kiss shared between the three of us. I smiled, satisfied, “Thank the gods I didn’t have to choose…”

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goldensunflowe-r · 11 months ago

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King of (seven kingdoms) Pouting! 🛐

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aemondloverr · 9 months ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐)

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: As the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra, you are sent to the North to negotiate terms with Lord Stark.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Disapproving Jace

𝐰𝐜: 𝟐.𝟒𝐤

𝐀/𝐍: Ngl school was kicking my ass but I still wanna deliver 😪 (btw, cregan appears in the next part, not the first. sorryyy :p

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

“Mother? You sent for me?”

Rhaenyra is sitting at a table in her chambers, sipping wine and surrounded by various papers and documents. She looks up as you enter and a soft smile tugs at her lips, her eyes seeming to light up for just a moment

“Yes, my daughter. Come, sit with me.”

She pats the seat beside her, clearing a space among the piles of documents. There's an expectant look in her eye, her gaze resting on you

“I have something to discuss with you.”

Oh no

You know whenever those words come from the mouth of a mother, it’s never good. You’re either in trouble, or it’s something serious.

You approach the chair nervously and sit.

She sighs and sets down her glass of wine, shifting her attention fully to you. Her eyes seem to search your face for a moment before she speaks again.

“You're growing up so fast, you know that? It feels like just yesterday you were a little girl running through the gardens, laughing and playing with your brothers.”

You smile at the mention of fond memories.

Oh Gods. A speech is always a bad indicator. Especially one of childhood.

A pang of bittersweet nostalgia seems to pass over Rhaenyra’s features as she continues, her voice taking on a hint of regret

“Sometimes, I wish I could freeze time and keep you just as you are right now, still young and innocent, before the world has a chance to harden your heart. But… that’s not the way things work, is it?”

“I know mother…” Your smile quickly fades and you worry for what she’ll say next.

Rhaenyra holds your gaze for a moment before she speaks again, her voice soft and earnest

“You're much more perceptive than your brothers, you know that? You always were, even as a child. You always seemed to know what I was thinking before I even said it-”

“Is there something you want me to do?” It would be nice if she stopped beating around the bush and just asked.

She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself for what comes next, her gaze unwavering and intent on you

“…As you know, my reign is not without its challenges. There are those who question my claim to the throne, who think that my rule is not rightful. I need you to understand, my love, that in the future you may be forced to make difficult decisions, decisions that will impact not just your own life, but the future of the entire realm.”

You stare, expectantly

“This is why I am asking you to go to Winterfell…”

What…??

“But mother…”

She knows that this is the part where you'll likely protest

“I know you don't want to go, my love. I know that leaving home, leaving me, is difficult for you. Believe me, I would not ask this of you if there was any other option.”

“But Cregan…you know what he did…”

You’d expected something important yes, but this?…This was simply too much to ask of you .

Her hand comes to rest on top of yours in a comforting gesture.

“I know, my love. I know it hurt you greatly, believe me, it pained me to see you so distraught.”

“So why can’t you send Jace. Why would you send me to see him??”

“Jace is a good, honourable boy. I know he would do his duty and serve me well as a diplomatic envoy to Winterfell. But he is not you. I'm sending you for a reason, my love.”

“And why’s that??” You begin to get frustrated

Rhaenyra looks straight into your eyes, her gaze unwavering as she speaks

“Because Cregan Stark is a proud and stubborn man, one who values strength and resilience. He is unlikely to listen to just anyone. But he knows you. He once cared for you, deeply. I'm sending you there as someone who has the potential to sway him to our cause.”

“This is not fair. How could you even consider asking me this when you know—“

She sees you tearing up and reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face, her touch, gentle and tender

“You know that duty must take precedence over desire…”

“For the realm...” You mutter, a tear falling

Rhaenyra's heart aches to see the tears in your eyes, but she doesn't falter in her resolve. She lifts her free hand to your face, gently wiping away a tear that threatens to spill down your cheek.

“Yes, my love. For the realm…”

She gently pulls you closer, letting you rest your head against her shoulder. She runs her fingers through your hair, her touch soft and soothing

“…For our family. For all the people we are sworn to protect.”

*****

Later that evening at supper

The entire family is gathered around the large table in the dining hall, eating their supper and engaging in light conversation. Rhaenyra is seated at the head of the table, daemon at the other with Jace seated to her left and Luke to her right.

Joffrey is seated across from Jace, chattering away happily about some toy he received. Rhaenyra glances up to where you are sitting, a small but weary smile on her face

Jace notices your quieter-than-usual demeanor and nudges you gently with his elbow

“Hey, are you alright? You're awfully quiet tonight.”

“Yea I’m alright, I’ll tell you later” you whisper.

Jace looks at you for a moment, his expression one of concern, but nods understandingly. He returns to his food, but you can feel his gaze occasionally flicking over to you throughout the meal.

*****

Rhaenyra stands and taps her glass.

At her signal, the conversation around the table dies down, and everyone turns to face her. Rhaenyra stands, her expression serious as she looks around at her family

She clears her throat and speaks, her voice steady and commanding

"Before everyone retires for the evening, I have an announcement to make."

Rhaenyra takes a deep breath, her gaze flickering briefly to you before continuing.

"As you all know, the stability of the realm depends on maintaining strong alliances and relationships with our noble houses. It is therefore necessary for me to send an envoy to Winterfell to reinforce our ties there."

A pause.

"I have decided to send your sister to Winterfell as our representative. She will leave in two days' time."

There is a moment of stunned silence as the rest of the family processes this information. Jace looks over at you, his forehead creasing with confusion. Luke's mouth has dropped open in surprise. Even Joffrey is silent, for once.

Jace protests. Daemon just sits back and watches the drama

He speaks up immediately, his voice filled with concern

"Mother, surely you can't be serious? You're sending our sister all the way to Winterfell? Alone? It's too dangerous!"

Rhaenyra looks at Jace with sympathy but irritation at his protest.

"I understand your concern, my son, but this decision is not up for debate. Your sister is perfectly capable of handling herself and representing our house honorably."

“At least let me go with her“

"No, Jace. I cannot spare you here, I need you by my side. One dragon in the open is enough and the greens could spot you” your mother says sternly.

“Mother you can’t just-”

Joffrey cries and Luke tries to comfort him. He doesn’t like the arguing and yelling

“It is done Jacaerys. You will argue no more about this!”

You quickly excuse yourself from the table, hurrying to your chambers.

Jace looks like he wants to say something, but Rhaenyra gives him a warning glance, and he reluctantly stays silent

As you head back to your chambers, you can hear the murmurs of the rest of the family resume, their low voices discussing the announcement Rhaenyra made. As you begin to pack your things, there's a soft knock on your door

“Enter”

Jace enters the room, closing the door behind him. He stands awkwardly for a moment, his hands fidgeting at his sides. Finally, he takes a deep breath and speaks, his voice filled with concern

"Are you really okay with this, going to Winterfell and seeing...him again?"

“I…have to” your back is turn from him as you put your clothing into leather bags

His expression softens and he moves closer to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder* "I know, but that doesn't make it any easier. I don't want you to get hurt, especially not by him."

“You need not worry Jace, I will be fine.” You already know that’s a lie. And he does too. But saying it out loud makes it feel true.

"You can say that all you want, but that doesn't make it any less worrying. I know how much he meant to you before."

“I am not going there to pursue him, I am going there to gain the North as an ally for our house.”

Jace nods, his expression serious once more

"I know that's the purpose of the mission, but you can't deny that seeing him again will be hard for you. You have feelings for him."

“What are you saying Jace.”

Jace sighs and runs a hand through his hair, glancing at you with concern "I'm saying that you're fooling yourself if you think going to Winterfell and seeing Cregan Stark isn't going to stir up feelings you thought you had buried."

“So what if it does…It’s not like I’m going to act on them.” You’re just going to do what is asked of you and leave. Nothing more.

"You say that now, but what happens if he wants to revisit the past with you? What if he wants to rekindle what you had between you?"

You let out a huff of frustration. “Just stop Jace. You don’t know anything anyways…”

He takes a step back, his expression hurt, almost. "What do I know? I know that you've been in love with Cregan Stark since you were children, and I know how much it hurt you when he left and you still haven’t gotten over it!”

You turn and look at him in disbelief that he would mention the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid. “Just go…Leave!”

Jace's expression softens at your harsh tone, and he takes another step back, swallowing thickly. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again, his eyes flicking to the ground before back up to you.

“Fine.”

He shuts the door with force.

You stand alone in your room, the silence heavy and oppressive without Jace's presence. You feel your emotions welling up inside of you, a mixture of anger and sadness and frustration at Jace's words. But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that you know he’s right.

*****

For the next two days you stay in your room, packing and pondering until the night it’s time to leave.

The atmosphere in the castle is tense, the realization of your imminent departure hanging heavy in the air. Rhaenyra and the rest of the family have gathered to see you off.

Rhaenyra stands next to Silverwing, watching you with a mixture of sadness and pride. The dragon emits a low, melancholic whine, as if sensing the gravity of the situation. The boys and daemon stand on either side of Rhaenyra, their faces stoic but anxious.

“I will see you in few weeks time.”

Rhaenyra nods, her expression solemn. She steps forward and hugs you tightly, pulling you to her chest. The hug is firm and possessive, conveying a mixture of love and protectiveness.

"Be safe, my love. I will count every day until your return."

You step aside to hug Jace. He returns your hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He holds you close for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head. When he pulls back, his expression is still serious, and he mutters quietly.

"Be careful, alright? Don't do anything stupid."

“No promises…”

Jace gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to allow Luke to say his goodbyes. Luke hugs you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder. When he pulls back, he's fighting back tears, his voice wavering when he speaks

"I don't want you to go."

Joffrey then hugs at your waist, teary eyed, his aebottom lip trembling.

"Please don't go, please...I want you to stay."

Joffrey buries his face into your stomach, his small hands tugging at your dress. Luke places a hand on Joffrey's shoulder, trying to soothe his younger brother's distress. He looks at you helplessly, his own eyes glassy with tears

“Hush sweetlings…I wont be gone forever” You kiss their cheeks and tops of their heads

"You'll come back, right? You promise?"

“I promise.”

Joffrey and Luke both look up at you, their eyes wide and pleading, searching your face for assurance. Rhaenyra steps forward, her hand resting on each of their shoulders.

"Your sister will be back before you know it, and she'll come back with a great success for our house."

Even Jace tears up a bit but rolls his eyes, trying to play it off.

"I'm not tearing up. I just got something in my eye, that's all." He rubs at his eye, trying to cover up the fact that he is, in fact, on the verge of crying.

Then comes Daemond with a large, tight hug, practically suffocating you.

“Alright alright I love you too” you struggle with a strained voice and he finally lets go

“Just come back in one piece.”

“You know I will” you playfully push his shoulder.

You tie your bags to Silverwing and mount her saddle, blowing air kisses as you lead silver wing out of the den and out into the dark of the night.

The entire family watches as you and Silverwing take flight, the dragon's wings beating strongly as you soar into the black sky.

A sense of melancholy hangs in the air, the weight of your absence already palpable among those left behind. Rhaenyra's expression is solemn as she watches you disappear into the distance, a silent prayer on her lips for your safe return.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoyed and forgive me for the delay. AP clases are NOT for the weak 😭 part 2 will definitely be out within the next few weeks tho. Let me cook.

PS. The plot is a bit different from the teaser. Please don’t be mad at me🙏🏾

@beebeechaos @iv-vee @aemondwhoresworld @obscure-beauty @6ternalsun @msmarvelknight @melsunshine @cregansfourthwife

#fanfic #new writter #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd cregan #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon

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chloe-skywalker · 1 year ago

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Nothing Can Happen - Jacaerys Velaryon/Targaryen

Jacaerys x Fem!Stark!Reader

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 988

Summary: Jace fall’s in love with Cregon Stark’s twin sister.

Authors Note: Hope you enjoy ! I wrote this before season 2 even had a release date. Reader is supposed to be Cregon Stark's twin sister.

Masterlist

House Of The Dragon Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Welcome to Winterfell Jacaerys Targaryen.” Y/n greeted as she watched the prince land his dragon and dismount before he approached her.

“Wish it was under different circumstances.” Jacaerys said as he approached who he could only believe was Y/n Stark. Rumors didn’t do her beauty justice he thought.

“Don’t we all?” She agreed but Y/n sadly believed the seven kingdoms may never be at peace. “We know why you are here.”

“My Mother-” he started but Y/n held her hand up to stop his prepared speech.

“Is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. We stand behind your mother. We will fight with your family.” Y/n smiled having already known what kind of speech he was going to give and just save him the time.

“Thank you. It’s appreciated.” Jace felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to convince them or make any deals. If only it was that easy every time.

“Our father swore to Rhaenyra. We will honor that. Honor means something to us here. And she was named heir. Viserys never changed his mind or made a formal change. We won’t stand with the greens.” Y/n stated to him confidently.

“Again. Appreciated.” he nodded at her.

Jace kept glancing at the direwolf at her side and it made her let out an amused laugh as she noticed. “You can pet her. She won’t hurt you.”

“I-I’m good.” He answered nervously.

“You can ride a dragon but not pet a wolf?” Y/n teased him amused at his reactions.

“I grew up with dragons.” Jace points out.

“I grew up with wolves. But I’d go up and touch your dragon.” Y/n shrugged teasing him more. She had decided it was fun to poke at him, in a friendly respectful way of course.

“Then you are braver than me.” Jace state’s smiling at her. He believed her and he could see in her eyes that she was confident when it came to what she was saying. Jacaerys had also realized in these few short minutes he enjoyed seeing her smile.

“Would you like a tour of Winterfell? My brother would’ve been here but he’s stuck doing some preparation.” Y/n offered with a more relaxed tone with the prince.

“I would love to see Winterfell.” Jace smiled, enjoying how she treated him as if war wasn’t looming.

^ ^ ^

“I’ve noticed you getting all friendly with the Targaryen Boy.” Cregon say’s breaking the silence between him and his sister as they took their direwolves to the creek nearby.

“Just being friendly with an alley.” Y/n tells him not even looking up from the creek as she answered her brother. She didn’t want to see the look she knew would be on his face.

“You like him.” Cregon stated his thoughts on their closeness, after all he knew his sister better than anyone else.

“Cre-”

“It’s fine with me. I like him, he’s a good man.” he interrupted her.

“Nothing will ever happen.” She shook her head glancing at him. She expected a different reaction from him but she shouldn't be surprised he was always supportive of her and wanted her to be happy in life.

“Why won’t you let yourself be happy?” It broke his heart to watch his sister do this to herself.

“He’s betrothed.” Y/n turned to look at him & before she could get any more emotional she looked away and shook her head. “Nothing will ever happen.”

“Fuck.” Cregon sighed, something always stood in Y/n’s way and it really angered him sometimes.

“It can’t go anywhere but friendship.” Y/n stated effectively ending the conversation. Turning back to look at her reflection in the creek's water. She did not want to let this affect her, it was never a possibility to begin with so why did she let herself get so attached to begin with.

^ ^ ^

“It has been a pleasure staying here. Thank you for your hospitality.” Jacaerys thanked as he got ready to leave back to Dragonstone.

“It was our pleasure. We’ll be ready when the time comes.” Cregon held his arm out.

“The crown appreciates your loyalty.” Jace shook forearms with Cregon sending their deal. Their loyalty.

“Always.” Cregon smiled before walking far enough away to give the prince and his sister some privacy.

“I’ll miss you.” Jacaerys broke the silence between them first.

“I’ll miss you too, you’ve become a great friend. Prince Jacaerys.” Y/n gives him her best smile she could given the circumstances.

“Y/n-” He tries to speak out, not liking the fact that she called him only a friend.

“Jace. This, us. It can’t go anywhere. You're betrothed, and that’s all there is to it.” Y/n tell’s him what they both know to be true. Even if they wished differently. But they couldn’t stand in the way of their duties.

“I will talk to my mother. I promise.” Jacaerys wanted to keep what they had going, he didn’t mean to fall in love with her on his visit but he did. He admired that she was trying to keep thing’s respectable. Let him go even if it hurts her.

“Don’t promise that. Don’t give out false hope.” Y/n shook her head with tears filling her eyes, but she would not let them fall. At least not till she was alone.

“I promise. I really do.” he did not want her to give up on them, on what they felt growing between the two of them. But even he knew there was a slim chance.

“It was nice meeting you Prince Jacaerys.” Y/n gave the best smile she could muster at him. It was obvious she was trying to distance herself emotionally.

It was clear to Jace that she wouldn’t change her mind without proof they could be together. Jacaerys was determined to talk to his mother about this once he got back. He had to try.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @maryvibess @misspendragonsworld @gruffle1

@starkleila

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knight-of-flowerss · 2 months ago

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Omg sweet blue collar mechanic cregan and his like kinda stuck up spoilt girlfriend reader would be >>>

their dynamic would be so cute her pouting and needing his help all the time and him just being her lap dog

OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO SMARTTTT and yes 100% he would do ANYTHING!!! He's like a big puppy dog but looks like he could batter u 😭

Mechanic!Cregan Stark x Stuck up!Reader

MDNI 18+!!!!

MASTERLIST

🔧•Working at a chop shop was something Cregan didn't think he'd be doing at twenty seven.

🔧•I mean, he's done a ton of illegal shit, of course he has. He literally used to work for the Targaryen's.

🔧•Crime is all Cregan ever knew. By the time he was 15, both his parents had tragically died and he was stuck with his uncle. Unfortunately, his uncle was abusive and cruel, leading Cregan to run away from home.

🔧•That's how he found himself tangled in the Targaryen crime family. He had went to school with some not so friendly people up north that got him in contact with a certain someone down south.

🔧•Aegon Targaryen was Cregan's age, just a few months younger. He had started the whole 'empire' by just being a teen addicted to drugs, but with his wealth, he managed to buy out suppliers and warehouses and he slowly became the biggest supplier of snout, green, ket. Anything you can think of, he supplies.

🔧•Aegon helped Cregan get on his feet at seventeen years old, giving him a job at the mechanic's that he owned, a secret chop shop while also being a front for money laundering. In Aegon's eyes, he killed two birds with one stone.

🔧•And there, Cregan got good at what he did. Learning under Harwin Strong, he knew how to do anything and everything on cars. And Harwin didn't just teach him how to fix cars.

🔧•On breaks, Harwin would teach Cregan how to fight. Cregan had a slight idea on how to fight, he had to defend himself against his uncle a few times but that was the only thing he was good at, defense. Harwin decided to teach Cregan offence.

🔧•You're probably thinking, why? Why would Harwin teach Cregan to fight? Well, being involved in drugs and crime, you need to know how to defend yourself. Especially since the people from Essos and Skagos have started to integrate into Westeros, bringing their own threats with them.

🔧•Cregan's done it all, seen it all, heard it all. Being the muscle of the operation, he's been through it all.

🔧•But it's died down now, he's thrown himself into more of his work at the chop shop, and that's where he met you.

🔧•A Porsche had been stolen by Luke and Joffrey and brought to the shop. That was their job, stealing. Being only ten and fourteen, they went under the police radar so they could get their slippery hands on anything, including your Porsche.

🔧•You were distraught, on the verge on calling the police when your friend Baela stopped you, begged you not to. She admitted that it was probably her boyfriend's younger brothers who stole it and it would be at the shop.

🔧•Next thing you know you're storming down to the shop in your red bottomed heels and tiny dress in the roughest part of Kingslanding.

🔧•"Oh my gods!" You shout as you walk to the shop, seeing your once gorgeous Porsche getting ripped apart for pieces. Cregan, who was in the middle of taking the bumper off, turns around to see who shouted.

🔧•He's met with the sight of you, purse in one hand and phone in the other staring in horror as he destroys your car. You storm towards him, your heels clicking furiously on the concrete.

🔧•He stands up, towering high over you as you cross your arms. "What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?!"

🔧•Cregan just stares at you, eyes widened just slightly, his mouth parted just barely, as if he was mute. "Hello?! Are you fucking deaf?!" You shout in his face.

🔧•He just shakes his head, never tearing his eyes off of you. In all his years, he'd never been silenced by a pretty girl.

🔧•Cregan didn't know how it happened. One moment, he's zoned out as you scream in his face about the car, your car that he's tearing up. And the next.. the next he's 'repaying' you with his cock in the backseat of your torn up Porsche.

🔧•Your head is lulled out of the backseat window, your tits spilling over too as he fucks you from behind.

🔧•Cregan's cheek smushes up against your spine, his brows furrowed and eyes closed. He couldn't help but enter that stage of dumbness that he was in before, soft groans leaving his lips.

🔧•His heavy balls smacks against your puffy lips, his pubic hair catching lightly against your clit each time. He's lucky Harwin wasn't in today, or else Cregan would be getting a right telling off in the office right now.

🔧•But now, he lets himself indulge in your sweet cunt, the squelching making his cock twitch each time he hears it.

🔧•His hands move forward, yanking you in the car some more. Your nipples catch against the little nook of where the window is currently winded down and a whine rips itself from your lips.

🔧•Cregan's hands reach to paw at your tits. Typical rich girl, tiny little tits but a big attitude. But he didn't mind, in fact, Cregan was a dirty fucking pervert for small tits. He doesn't know what it is but they drive him fucking feral.

🔧•After your little.. fiasco.. he finally speaks, his thick northern accent making your legs buckle, and not just because you'd been fucked within an inch of your life.

🔧•He told you his name and even offered to get Lucerys and Joffrey to steal another car for you, any brand you wanted. Of course, you declined, you don't fuck with second hand shit.

🔧•No one truly knows how it happens, not even Cregan himself, but you had begun to stick around. No labels, of course, but he was yours. Everyone knew it.

🔧•Cregan didn't really know what to do with himself. He had beaten guys to a pulp and murdered people who deserved it. He'd done drugs and even sold them to kids. But he still didn't know why he was so.. well.. submissive around you.

🔧•He wasn't submissive per se.. he just let you do the talking while his hand stayed on your hip.

🔧•He couldn't afford the latest Channel bag or the new PRADA heel, but he could fuck you. He could fuck you and make you feel like a fucking goddess.

🔧•Even if he couldn't supply you with the items that fill your wardrobe, he treat you the way you deserved. Well, a lot would say you didn't deserve it, but Cregan would just bury his head in between your thighs to silence any thought you had of their harsh words.

🔧•Basically, what I'm saying it that Cregan is a sheep in wolf's clothing and you, the reader, are a wolf in sheep's clothing. But he fucking loves you.

🔧•He's literally the boyfriend that would take care of you even if he's tired, he's still willing to fuck his pillow princess into the mattress, not letting her lift a finger, as if she ever would.

🔧•He's a perfect boyfriend and I would write more but I need to post something so 🧍‍♀️

I definitely wanna write more about Mechanic!Cregan but I just had to get something out before I go to Kurtis Conner tomorrow lmao 😭

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood

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damneddamsy · 7 months ago

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second sight | cregan stark x oc (bonus i)

a/n: on this sweet episode of Stark-fluff, Cregan and Co. visit King's Landing. And boy, does he fucking hate it. Meanwhile, Bran's eager to connect with his Targaryen kin.

The heat pressed against Cregan Stark’s skin like a second tunic, heavy and cloying. The air in King’s Landing was thick, and damp with the scents of sweat, perfume, and the shit stench of the streets below. The Red Keep loomed above, gleaming red stone under a sun far too bright for his liking. He glanced at the bustling courtyards, the laughter and chatter of nobles weaving past him, their brightly dyed garments flaring like banners. The yellows, greens, and silks of every hue were so garish compared to the quiet greys and dark furs of Winterfell. Everything here screamed of excess, even how people spoke—words spilling out like wine, too much, too sweet, too fast.

The so-called wine he’d been served during the midday meal still churned in his stomach. It was red, but not like the rich Dornish vintages he’d had once at White Harbor. This was sharp and sour, cloying at the back of his throat. The food hadn’t fared much better: dry bread, over-salted meat, and sauces thick with spices he couldn’t name. Cregan clenched his fists. How did Claere stomach this place? She’d lived here once, grown up here. And now they were back, summoned to the capital for some political matter too tedious to justify enduring this heat.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the heat or the food or even the absurdity of the southern finery—it was sleeping without her. Some ancient southern tradition dictated they take separate chambers while they were guests of the crown. He hadn’t asked why. He didn’t care to know. All he knew was that the empty bed in his room felt colder than any winter night, and the fact that she wasn’t beside him had gnawed at his nerves all day.

It didn’t take him long to track her down.

He found her in her chambers, standing on a dais, surrounded by an army of handmaidens. It was different from Winterfell, where her attendants numbered only two or three, and they worked in quiet efficiency, more like sisters than servants. These women buzzed like a hive, fixing the smallest fold of fabric, pinning her hair with jeweled combs.

And there she was—Claere.

He froze in the doorway, his breath caught in his chest. The sight of her stole every thought from his head. She stood tall and graceful, her hair woven into an intricate crown of braids, strands gleaming in the candlelight. The gown she wore was like nothing he’d ever seen: deep blue silk that shimmered with silver undertones, its sleeves draping like pendants to reveal her arms, pale and smooth. The neckline framed her collarbones, dipping just enough to tease. The bodice cinched her waist so perfectly that it might have been poured onto her, and the slit down the front laced delicately, offering a whisper of the skin beneath.

She turned slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, her expression was still, unreadable, her violet eyes flicking to meet his. Then, she smiled, soft and shy, and lifted her fingers in a small wave.

Cregan chest went tight. His heart pounded so loud he thought the handmaidens might hear it. For a moment, he forgot the heat, the food, the city he despised. He forgot to hate it all because there was only her in that instant.

One of the handmaidens giggled. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring. Claere’s smile deepened, faintly amused, though she said nothing. A woman pressed the last pin into her hair and curtsied before filing out. Claere remained where she was, poised on the dais like she belonged on top of the world entirely.

Cregan shut the door behind them with a deliberate click, the bolt sliding into place with a satisfying thud. The warmth of the chamber surrounded them, faintly scented with the oils and perfumes of the South. His eyes were on her, drinking her in as she stood before the tall mirror, her figure framed by the golden light of a dozen flickering candles.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rough, thick with hunger.

She didn’t move, her posture as calm and composed as ever. But her lips parted slightly, the barest quirk of curiosity in her brow.

Cregan crossed the room in three strides, his boots heavy against the ornate tiled floor. When he reached her, his hands found her waist, the fine silk of her gown slipping easily beneath his calloused fingers. He pulled her close, the warmth of her body anchoring him, the air suddenly still around them.

His head dipped low, pressing a firm, deliberate kiss against the slit of fabric that curved down toward her belly.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, his voice a soft rumble. “All this skin. Why can’t you dress like this at home?”

Claere tilted her head, her violet eyes meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. “I’d freeze in moments.”

He laughed, a deep, wolfish sound that rolled out of him unbidden. “Then I’d keep you warm.”

Her hand brushed over his damp hair, her fingers grazing the sweat gathered at his temple. “Not while you reek of sweat.”

He leaned into her touch, undeterred by her observation. “I’m not wearing those ridiculous coats they want me in,” he grumbled, his Northern pride rising.

“But you are sweating,” she repeated, a ghost of amusement flickering across her otherwise serene expression.

Cregan groaned, wrapping his fingers around hers and guiding her carefully down from the dais.

“It’s just a bit of water, love.”

Her gown whispered against the floor as she stepped down. She cast a glance at him, the faintest quirk of mischief in her eyes. “You would look rather noble in an overcoat,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over his knuckles.

He snorted, shaking his head with a mockery of disbelief. “Would. Will never.”

Her lips curved into something soft and understanding, the expression only she could manage. “It's alright,” she said simply. Her fingers tightened in his, her voice a quiet promise. “We can leave first thing tomorrow.”

He laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he lowered her forehead to hers. “We got here yesterday,” he said, his tone light with affection.

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily, her breath soft against his cheek. “I know,” she whispered.

His chest tightened at the words, an ache blooming there that wasn’t unfamiliar, but tonight, it felt sharper. He lingered in the warmth of her presence, the silk of her gown brushing against the coarse leather of his tunic. The scent of her was maddening—some southern concoction that mingled with the subtle lavender she always carried. He hated how it suited her, hated how this place seemed to mould itself around her. But Gods, how she looked here, how she belonged.

“I suppose some fresh air should help with the heat,” she drawled thoughtfully.

Her steps were deliberate, and graceful, as if she had walked these halls all her life. For a moment, Cregan’s eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth twitched into something between awe and defiance.

"Arm?" she asked, glancing at him.

“Aye, my lady, always,” he replied, his voice gruff.

His hand found the crook of her elbow. They stepped out of the chambers together, her delicate hand on his forearm.

The corridor of Maegor’s Holdfast stretched before them, its vaulted ceilings casting long shadows that flickered with torchlight. Claere’s gaze wandered from door to door, deep in recollections, her violet eyes tracing the intricate carvings and golden inlays that adorned every arch.

Cregan, meanwhile, scowled away his frustration. "All this gold and they can’t even serve a proper roast. That pheasant at supper—dry as bone. And what’s that sauce they drown everything in?"

"Spiced honey," Claere replied, though she kept her eyes forward, lips curving faintly.

He snorted. “Spiced, indeed. Tasted like it came straight out of a septon’s tight arse.”

Claere stifled a laugh, her lips pressing together as they walked.

“You’re quite the guest,” Claere murmured, her voice as smooth as silk.

“Guest,” he echoed bitterly, his jaw tightening. “A guest in a city that couldn’t be farther from the North. Look at this place—all gilded stone and false smiles. Give me the cold and honest halls of Winterfell any day.”

His words came rough, unfiltered, the kind he rarely let slip outside the privacy of their chambers. But the South clawed at his patience, and his discomfort had no place to hide.

Claere didn’t answer at once. Her gaze drifted upward, catching the way the golden sunlight angled through an open archway, illuminating the intricacies of the tapestries along the walls. She lingered in the quiet, as she often did, before finally glancing at him, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“Would you like to walk by the sea?” she asked, her voice carrying the faintest lilting warmth, as though the memory of it lived in her words. “I used to love watching the ships when I was small. Perhaps you'd feel more at ease there.”

Cregan paused mid-step, her words surprising him. He opened his mouth, but the immediate retort died on his tongue. He realized, too late, how his words had landed—disdain aimed not only at the South but at the place where she had once lived, once laughed, once grown into the woman who now stood beside him. A pang of shame gripped him. She had never uttered a word against Winterfell, though the North had been slow to accept her. Yet here he was, spitting curses at her childhood home like a petulant boy.

“I’d like that very much,” he said finally, his tone softening, almost contrite.

She gave a slight nod, her lips twitching faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. She said nothing more, but he could feel her watching him as they moved through the Red Keep’s curving corridors, his silence now more reflective.

The air shifted as they descended through the castle gardens, the sharp floral perfume of the South mingling with the faint salt tang carried on the breeze. They passed fountains of carved marble and hedges trimmed into unnatural shapes, the paths too clean and the sunlight too bright for Cregan to feel at ease. Yet as they rounded a final corner, the horizon opened up to them.

The lush gardens gave way to a stone balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay, the fountain at its centre singing softly in the breeze. Beyond, the water stretched endlessly, its surface shimmering like molten gold under the afternoon sun. The wind picked up, cool and bracing against the heat, carrying with it the scent of salt and something untamed.

Cregan stopped at the edge, his hands resting on the warm stone railing. For the first time since their arrival, his shoulders eased, the weight of the city loosening its grip. As he drew a long breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs, he thought, for the first time, that perhaps the South wasn’t entirely without its charms. Not when she was here.

“It’s not so bad,” he admitted grudgingly, his voice quieter now, more grounded.

Claere stood beside him, her violet eyes fixed on the horizon, the endless expanse of Blackwater Bay glimmering under the sun. The breeze toyed with the loose tendrils of her silver hair, brushing them against her cheek, and she seemed lost in thought, her silence as soft and vast as the sea itself. When she finally spoke, her voice was peaceful, a quiet anchor in the weight of the day.

“Forgive me. I didn’t think you had to come all this way.” She turned to him, her gaze meeting his, sincere and unyielding. “It’s only Jace’s coronation. It’d be improper for me not to show my support.”

Cregan held her gaze for a long moment, the words settling between them like stones dropped into deep water. He reached for her hand, his calloused fingers brushing against hers, and for a moment, the warmth of her touch quieted the turmoil inside him.

“Wherever you go, I follow,” he said simply, his voice softer now, more certain.

Her eyes flickered a subtle acknowledgment of his loyalty, before narrowing slightly, playful yet questioning. “Do you truly hate this place that much?”

He let out a low, sardonic laugh, leaning his elbows against the stone railing. “Hate might be too soft a word. It’s too hot, too bright, and the food’s about as satisfying as eating sawdust.” He turned his head, meeting her gaze. “And don’t even get me started on that tart red piss they call wine.”

A small smile curved her lips, faint but unmistakable. “You’ve been drinking it.”

“Because Lucerys poured it himself,” Cregan shot back. “And if I’d refused, I’m certain it would’ve become some grave insult to the Targaryen name.” He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Can’t have Lord Stark burned to a crisp, can we?”

Her smile lingered, and she tilted her head, considering him with quiet amusement. “You’re still sweating.”

“It’s the heat,” he grumbled, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “And this gods-forsaken leather. What would you have me do? Strip down and sit bare-chested in the middle of court?”

Her eyes glimmered with something close to mischief. “I’m sure that would make an impression.”

Cregan turned to face her fully, his brow arching. “And what impression would that be?”

“That the Northmen are as wild as they’re rumoured to be,” she said lightly, a faint tease threading her tone. “They might start calling you the Bear of Winterfell.”

He let out a short bark of laughter, the sound startling even himself. “The Bear? Better than most things they’ve called me today.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Though I’d wager they’re far more interested in you.”

Her gaze softened, but she said nothing. She simply looked at him, her quiet demeanour grounding him in a way the chaos of the Red Keep never could. Slowly, she lifted their joined hands and pressed her fingers to his wrist, her touch light yet deliberate.

“I don’t care what they think,” she said at last, her voice almost a whisper.

The warmth in her words tugged at his guilt, a pang sharp enough to silence his earlier complaints. He turned his hand to cradle hers properly, rough fingers grazing the fine lines of her palm.

“You grew up here,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now, tinged with regret. “And I’ve done nothing but condemn it since we arrived. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Her lips parted to speak, but she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she gave his hand the faintest squeeze, grounding him.

“The North is your home. You don’t have to love it here,” she said, her tone as steady as ever. “But it’s part of me, just as Winterfell is a part of you.”

He sighed, dipping his head closer to hers. “You’re too forgiving,” he murmured.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” she countered softly.

The tension between them broke like ice under spring sunlight. She leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder, her movements so natural it was as though they were alone on some frozen expanse instead of standing in the open gardens of the Red Keep. Cregan stiffened briefly, the ever-present sense of propriety tugging at his instincts, but her warmth quickly dispelled it. Let them look, he thought.

“I don’t like this place,” he admitted after a moment, his voice low. “But I like you in it.”

Her head tilted slightly, her breath ghosting against his neck as she spoke, barely above a murmur. “I only like that you're here.”

His chest tightened at the simplicity of her words, their truth unadorned and cutting. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her temple, uncaring of who might be watching. His hand slid to her lower back as he eased her against the balustrade, the coarse material of his leather brushing against her softer silks. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as his gaze dropped to hers, his large hands bracketing either side of her, blocking any escape. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, but she didn’t retreat—she never did.

“I’ve made my peace with it now.”

Claere arched a delicate brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Have you?”

Before she could say another word, he leaned in, his intent clear.

“Aye. I should think,” he said, his voice low and wanting, “that I’m owed a proper kiss for enduring this place without setting half of it ablaze.”

She arched a brow, raising her palm to his lips, halting his advance any further.

“Might I remind you,” she said, her tone lilting with amusement, “that we share four children? If I want to make another child in the Red Keep, I should think I’m owed the courtesy of seclusion.”

Cregan barked a laugh, the sound rolling through the gardens like a wolf’s howl. “The courtesy, is it?” He grinned, unrepentant. “Perhaps I like the idea of giving the South a show.”

Her laughter bubbled again, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he suddenly swept her off her feet, hoisting her into his arms with ease.

“Cregan!” she squeaked, her hands clutching his shoulders as he carried her toward the ornate fountain.

With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he perched her precariously on the edge of the stone basin, her balance wobbling as she grasped at his shoulder for support. The water behind her sparkled in the sunlight, a picturesque backdrop for her indignant glare.

“Get me down this instant!” she protested.

He grinned up at her, the glint in his eyes sharp and mischievous. “I thought you didn’t care what they think,” he drawled, tilting his head toward the guards, who were now openly staring at them.

Claere’s frown deepened, though it was betrayed by the twitch of a smile. “Cregan,” she warned, her tone sharp but losing its edge.

“Will you let me kiss you?” he asked, voice full of mock gravity.

She cocked a brow, folding her arms even as her dangerous perch forced her to lean on him. “After this? Not likely.”

He clicked his tongue and then, with a sharp whistle, called out to the guards. “Oy, lads!” His voice boomed with bravado, loud enough to echo off the garden walls. “Lady Stark’s making an effort to get in my breeches, and you’re just going to stand around and watch? You sick fucks.”

The guards, flustered and wide-eyed, shuffled and stammered before hastily retreating around the nearest corner.

“Cregan!” Claere’s voice was sharp, but the laughter bubbling beneath it betrayed her outrage.

“There we go,” he said, turning back to her with a smug grin, utterly satisfied. “No one’s watching us. Where's that kiss?”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though she couldn’t keep the laughter from spilling out.

“And you’re beautiful,” he shot back, leaning in again.

She sighed, letting him haul her down from the fountain and into his arms. Her fingers curled into the thickness of his jacket, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Kiss me then.”

The kiss was brief but searing, noses stroking, smiles wide, a moment of stolen fire in the gardens of a place neither of them belonged. Claere pulled back first, her cheeks tinged with colour, though whether it was from the kiss or the embarrassment of being manhandled in full view of fleeing guards, Cregan couldn’t say.

“Do you have to make a spectacle of us every time?” she asked, her voice laced with exasperated fondness as she stepped back to smooth the fabric of her gown.

“Only when it’s worth watching,” Cregan replied, his grin unapologetic. He reached out to tug a strand of silver hair that had come loose from her braid. “And you, my love, are always worth watching.”

Her lips quirked in a reluctant smile, her eyes flicking toward the open path where the guards had retreated moments before. “You’re lucky they didn’t faint from sheer humiliation. I thought Northerners valued their dignity.”

“If there’s no fun to be had, I cannot refuse,” he quipped, his hands settling on his hips as he glanced around the gardens. The wind carried the brine of the sea, and the faint murmur of distant voices reached them, though the path remained deserted.

Claere shook her head, turning toward the fountain, her fingers idly brushing along the stone’s intricate carvings. “You’ll make the septas gossip for months. ‘The Wolf and his wild displays.’”

“Good,” he said, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. She felt cold, from the chilly satin. “Maybe they’ll finally stop whispering about the Valyrian witch.”

Her posture stiffened briefly before she relaxed, leaning back into him. She tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet but edged. “They’ve never mattered to me.”

He frowned, his chin resting atop her head. “They’d matter to me if they ever dared say it to your face.”

“And what would you do?” she asked, her tone lighter now, teasing. “Bash a septa’s head in with your precious Northern honour?”

He smirked. “If I have to.”

Her laugh broke through the tension like sunlight through clouds, soft and sudden. She turned in his arms, her hands resting against his chest. “There are days I don’t know what to do with you, Lord Stark.”

“Love me,” he said simply, the grin slipping from his face as he met her gaze with earnest warmth.

“I already do,” she murmured, her thumb brushing absently against his cheek. “'Tis a nuisance.”

For a moment, they stood there, the world beyond the gardens blurring into nothing. It was only them, as it always seemed to be, no matter the distance or the trials they endured.

Then, of course, Cregan broke the moment.

“Shall we give them something else to talk about?” Cregan’s grin widened, a boyish gleam of mischief lighting his features.

Claere narrowed her eyes suspiciously, her lips parting to question him, but before she could speak, he swept her off her feet again. A gasp escaped her, followed by half-hearted protests muffled by her laughter as he spun her around in a wide arc.

“Put me down!” she cried, clutching his shoulders as the world tilted around her.

Her protests only seemed to encourage him. “Put you down?” he mused, his tone teasing as he held her aloft. He glanced at the fountain ahead, where the sunlight danced on the water’s surface. “Down in the fountain? Or perhaps in the sea?”

Her skirts brushed against the cool spray of the fountain, making her squirm in his hold. “Cregan Stark, don’t you dare!” she warned, though her laughter betrayed her delight.

He laughed along with her, the sound deep and rich. “Promise me something first,” he said, his voice mock-serious, though his eyes danced with amusement.

“And what is that?” she asked, tilting her head, her silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight.

“That you’ll drink the red piss wine with me the next time we’re here.”

Claere groaned dramatically, her head falling against his shoulder as she dissolved into laughter. “I’d rather face a dragon.”

Cregan chuckled, lowering her just enough that her feet skimmed the ground but keeping her firmly in his hold. “Lucky for you,” he said with a playful smirk, “you’ve already got the White Dread on your side.”

“And you,” she murmured, her laughter softening into a smile as her hand settled on his chest.

“Always me,” he promised, finally setting her down, though his hand lingered at her waist. The moment her feet touched the ground, she slipped her hand into his, their fingers lacing together as naturally as the tide meeting the shore.

They walked toward the garden’s edge, where the sound of waves whispered promises of freedom and escape. The sea breeze played at their hair, carrying their laughter over the walls of the keep.

Guards stationed nearby exchanged knowing glances, smirking behind their helms. Their love was a subject of quiet admiration, a rare warmth in Winterfell’s stoic halls. And though the couple walked on, seemingly alone, their bond was never unnoticed.

As the waves beckoned them onward, Claere glanced up at him, her violet eyes alight with mirth. “Even in this wretched place,” she said softly.

Cregan’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, grounding her in his steady presence. “Especially in this place,” he corrected with a gentle smile. "Where else would I want to be but at your side?"

The Great Hall of the Red Keep had been transformed into a grand stage for celebration, though the ever-present shadow of the Iron Throne loomed at the far end of the room, casting jagged shapes across the banners of red and black, each adorned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. Long tables stretched beneath the vaulted ceiling, groaning under the weight of golden platters, roasted meats, and goblets brimming with Dornish wine. Laughter and music filled the air, but the undercurrent of tension was as thick as the scent of spiced lamb and honeyed ham. This was King’s Landing—where alliances and betrayals were decided with a glance, and no gaze lingered without meaning.

The great doors creaked open, a low groan that silenced the hum of conversation in the hall. Heads turned, drawn as much by the sound as by the imposing figure that entered. Lord Cregan Stark strode into the chamber, his presence commanding in its stark simplicity. Draped in heavy northern velvet, the deep grey of his cloak was clasped at the shoulders with snarling wolf-heads wrought in polished iron. Against the opulence of the Crownlands’ finery—silks that shimmered like water, gold heavy as ambition—he stood out like the first shadow before a storm.

At his side, Lady Claere moved with an ethereal calm, a quiet dignity that seemed to still the air around her. Her expression, serene but distant, gave away nothing, and yet it drew every gaze like a whispered challenge. She was not garbed in the colours of flame and pageantry that adorned the court but in a pale gown that shimmered faintly, its simplicity outshining the artifice around her.

They were the North embodied: stark, unyielding, and undeniably present. The southern courtiers shifted uneasily, some bowing, others murmuring among themselves, as the Lord of Winterfell and the silver-haired first daughter of House Targaryen walked past them.

Brandon Stark, only eleven but every bit his father’s son in spirit, too tall for his age, perched at Cregan’s side. His silver hair caught the torchlight like polished steel, strikingly contrasting the dusky, layered northern doublet he wore. Brimming with youthful excitement, the boy’s wolfish grey eyes flitted around the hall as if trying to absorb every detail. From the golden chandeliers to the opulent silks draped over the high table, it was a world far removed from the rugged stone of Winterfell.

The feast was meant to honour Jacaerys Velaryon’s coronation on the morrow, yet as the Starks passed, the hall rippled with murmurs. All eyes seemed drawn not to Cregan or even young Brandon who bore the close hallmarks of Old Valyria but to Claere—the woman who, by birthright, could claim the Iron Throne if she so chose.

The Targaryen banners overhead seemed to shift uneasily, the dancing flames making the three-headed dragon appear alive. Whispers chased the Starks down the aisle, tugging at the edges of the great hall's jubilant façade.

“Princess Claere Velaryon...”

“The Queen Who Never Was.”

“Nay, her blood holds more fire than Jacaerys’s...”

“If she had wanted the throne—”

“But she married the Wolf.”

“She's the Winter's Queen now.”

The low hum of speculation reached even the dais, where Rhaenyra and Daemon sat flanking Jacaerys. Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line, her violet gaze narrowing ever so slightly as it followed her daughter’s steady progress. Daemon’s smirk widened, his hand idly spinning the stem of his goblet, watching as though the feast had taken an unexpected and delightful turn.

But Claere moved with an ethereal calm, her head held high, her hands folded before her. The train of her pale blue gown, embroidered with white-gold leaves and stitched dragons, trailed behind her like freshly fallen snow. She did not look left or right, though she was acutely aware of the eyes fixed on her.

They reached the dais, where the heart of the family sat like the sun at the centre of its orbit. At its centre sat Jacaerys Velaryon, his crown a fiery band of gold wrought into dragon wings. He exuded easy authority, his smile warm yet edged with caution like a blade sheathed but not forgotten. Beside him was Baela, her silver hair catching the light like a polished jets, her sharp gaze sweeping the hall with a quiet pride that spoke of a warrior's vigilance. Their children flanked them: Laena and Daeron, poised and princely, speaking in hushed tones between delicate bites.

To their left, Lucerys and Rhaena whispered and laughed like co-conspirators, their bond evident in every stolen glance and shared smirk, while Joffrey charmed his betrothed with exaggerated gestures, his joviality a balm to the tension that lingered in the air. At the table's edge sat Rhaenyra and Daemon, aged but undiminished. Rhaenyra’s presence commanded respect, her violet eyes sharp as steel. Beside her, Daemon lounged like a coiled dragon, his pale hair falling loose over one shoulder, his sharp gaze roving the hall as though he were cataloguing its players.

Jacaerys rose first, unbefitting his position, the movement subtle yet commanding. Silence fell over the hall like the turning of a tide, his authority palpable. His gaze swept over the trio approaching him, pausing briefly on Brandon before settling firmly on Claere.

“Sweet sister,” he said, his voice carrying enough warmth to veil the undertone of command. “It pleases me to see you here after so long. You look well.”

Claere curtseyed, her movement graceful, her voice soft but steady. “Brother,” she greeted, the single word weighted with a thousand unspoken meanings.

It was Joffrey who broke the formality, rounding the table to embrace his sister as if no years had passed since their last meeting. Where he had once been a mere boy of ten, burying his face in her waist, now he held her tightly, the man he had become pressing a familial kiss to her cheek.

“Lord Stark,” Jacaerys continued, his tone shifting as his gaze turned to Cregan. Joffrey lingered beside his sister, still holding her hand as if reluctant to let her go.

“The North honors us with your presence,” Jacaerys said.

Cregan inclined his head, his words measured, his tone neutral. “The honor is ours, my king.”

Jacaerys’s gaze shifted again, his smile breaking into something warmer, easier. “And you must be Brandon Stark,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s good to finally meet you, nephew. The blood of the dragon burns bright in you.”

Cregan’s hand fisted briefly at his side, but his expression remained impassive.

Before the moment could stretch into tension, Rhaenyra’s voice carried over the hum of the feast. Though time had etched its mark upon her, her presence was no less commanding. Her tone, measured and regal, filled the space between them.

“Lord Stark,” she began, her violet eyes resting on Cregan, “you’ve brought your eldest, but what of my other grandchildren? I hear you have a fine brood at Winterfell.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened slightly, his discomfort evident in the subtle shift of his posture. “They are too young to travel the Kingsroad,” he replied curtly, his voice a low rumble.

The stark simplicity of his response brought a ripple of quiet across the table. Rhaenyra’s expression wavered, the faintest edge of offence flickering like a shadow.

Before the unease could settle, Claere stepped forward, her voice calm and steady as a winter wind. “They are quite well, Mother,” she said, her serene smile meeting Rhaenyra’s gaze. “Rickon already dreams of commanding the vanguard like his father. Edric”—her lips quirked slightly—“has taken to sneaking pastries from the kitchen. And little Luce…” Her tone softened, and warmth crept into her expression. “She’s discovered archery from her brothers. A proper little warrior, though she insists on naming every sparrow she meets.”

The tension broke as faint laughter rippled among those listening, and even Rhaenyra’s gaze softened. “It seems they thrive under your care,” she said warmly. “Winterfell is fortunate to have such a lady.”

“You flatter me, Mother,” Claere replied, bowing her head with a grace that seemed instinctual.

Cregan exhaled quietly, his shoulders loosening as the moment passed. The interlude was interrupted by Jacaerys, his voice warm yet commanding as it carried over the table.

“The White Wolf, is it?” he called, leaning forward from his gilded seat. His dark hair framed his sharp smile, confidence radiating like the glow of a dragon’s flame.

Brandon straightened instinctively, his cheeks reddening as all eyes turned to him. “The North heralds me too much too soon, Your Grace,” he said quickly, his voice clear and earnest.

Jacaerys chuckled, raising his goblet in a mock salute. “A Stark with humility? A rare breed indeed.” The jest drew a ripple of laughter. “But no need for titles, nephew. Call me uncle.”

The boy’s face lit up, his youthful nervousness melting into a smile. “Uncle,” he repeated, the word sitting comfortably on his tongue.

“And tell me, Brandon,” Jacaerys continued, leaning slightly closer, “is it true you’ve been training with a sword? Daemon tells me you’ve a good arm for your age.”

Brandon brightened, his excitement spilling over. “I have! Father says I’m stronger than most boys my age. I practice every day in the yard with the master-at-arms.”

“Oh, has he now?” Jacaerys grinned, casting a glance at Cregan. “Sounds like you’ll make a fine squire soon enough. What do you say, White Wolf? Would you squire for me, come winter?”

Brandon’s breath hitched, his grey eyes wide with awe. “Aye, my king. I would, absolutely!”

The table erupted in laughter and good-natured cheers from the Velaryon and Targaryen kin. Rhaena, seated beside Lucerys, smiled warmly at the boy, and even Joffrey offered a nod of approval. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and soon Brandon found himself swept into the fold, his questions and stories met with encouragement and kindness.

From further down the table, Daemon’s sharp, cutting voice reached them, unmistakable even amidst the lively din of the feast.

“So, lad,” he began, leaning forward with his goblet in hand, his pale hair falling loose over one shoulder. His gaze rested on Brandon with a predator's curiosity. “What’s your dragon called? I imagine it's speed and size akin to your mother's White Dread.”

The question froze the boy in place. His youthful confidence faltered, replaced by hesitation. He looked to his mother, then to his father, but neither answered for him. Claere’s serene expression didn’t shift, though her brows lifted subtly, a small gesture of encouragement.

Brandon swallowed. “I don’t have a dragon, Your Grace. Neither do my brothers and sister.” His voice was steady, though the words were clearly an effort to say.

The silence that followed wasn’t oppressive, but it lingered long enough for Cregan to bristle. His jaw tightened, and his hand flexed once before he leaned a step closer, his steely gaze fixed on Daemon.

Daemon’s smirk widened, his goblet tilting lazily in his hand. “No dragon, eh?” he drawled, eyeing his silver hair and features. “That’s unusual for one with so much Targaryen blood.” His gaze flicked to Claere, then back to the boy. “Surely your mother would have gifted you an egg.”

Brandon’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Cregan cut in, his voice low and firm. “The Starks have no need for dragons and wyverns,” he said, each word deliberate. “We are wolves.”

Daemon raised a brow, his smirk undiminished. “Wolves may run well in snow, but they don’t fly. Am I right, Claere?”

Claere managed a shaky smile.

“The North stands without wings,” Cregan retorted, his tone growing colder. “We always have. We always will.”

Claere’s hand on his forearm stilled him. Her touch was light, but the look she gave him—calm, steady, and unreadable—silenced the retort building in his throat. She turned her attention to Daemon, her expression serene.

“Dragons are not all that are a measure of man,” she said softly. Her violet eyes settled on Brandon, a quiet pride shining in them. “And wolves do not need to fly to command respect.”

Brandon straightened, emboldened by her words. “I shall squire for the King,” he said suddenly, his voice firm and sure. “Dragon or no dragon, I’ll serve with honour. My sword is yours.”

The table chuckled, the tension breaking like a wave receding from the shore. Daemon gave a low laugh, tilting his goblet toward Brandon. “We’ll see if the little wolf can keep up,” he said, though the words lacked the earlier bite.

Brandon grinned, his earlier unease gone. He turned back to his grandfather, his grey eyes bright with excitement. “You will see, Your Grace.”

A moment of pride swelled within Cregan. His eldest son, holding himself up before the family he had driven to keep at arm's length. Soon, the Stark trio were ushered away from the dais, away from the chaos.

Cregan and Claere were seated farthest away, though their most immediate family, their presence a clear demarcation of their difference from the Targaryens’ inner circle. The distance may have been political, a subtle reminder that while Cregan was a king in his own right, the North was far removed from the intrigues of the South. Or perhaps it was a kindness—to keep them from the full extent of Southern eyes and whispers.

Cregan, sitting as still as the mountains he ruled, seemed carved from the same stone. The velvet black overcoat he wore—tailored in the southern style—sat awkwardly on his broad frame, but he bore it with stoic determination. He tugged once at the stiff collar, a prison of its own, his discomfort as plain as the wine in his untouched goblet, but when Claere’s hand brushed his under the table, he relented.

He glanced her way, catching the soft curve of her lips, and sighed. She had asked him to wear it, after all. And for her, he would.

“Da,” Brandon’s voice broke the lull, soft but curious. The boy leaned closer, his grey eyes darting toward the high table. “Why aren’t we sitting up there?”

Cregan followed his son’s gaze to the gleaming dais, where the Targaryens sat cloaked in splendour and formidable grace.

“That’s my uncle, the king. And my grandmother, the queen mother?” Brandon pressed, his young face shadowed with confusion.

Cregan’s gaze flicked back to his son, sharp as the frost beyond the Wall. “Aye,” he said after a pause. “They’re your kin.”

“Then why are we here?” Brandon gestured at the low table, where the Starks had been placed, as though set apart by invisible walls. “At home, Luce and all of us sit together at the table. So why not here? We’re family, aren’t we?”

Cregan let out a low, humourless chuckle. “Family by blood, maybe. But blood means little in this hall. The North is our seat, not this nest of vipers.”

Brandon frowned, unsatisfied. “But you are a king too,” he pointed out. “The King in the North.”

“King,” Cregan admitted, his voice gruff. “But here? Dragonblood casts a longer shadow.” His tone softened as he leaned closer, his words meant only for Brandon. “Did you know, little wolf? Your mother could sit on the Iron Throne if she willed it. She could walk up there and claim the throne as her own, not a tongue would raise against her. Not even her own brother.”

Brandon blinked, stunned. “Ma?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She could rule the Seven Kingdoms?”

“And you,” Cregan said, his expression thoughtful, “would be her heir. A prince of the realm.” He reached out, ruffling his son’s unruly curls. “But it was not in your mother's interest.”

The boy’s gaze flickered to his mother, who sat serene and unyielding, as timeless as winter itself. Her quiet smile, so untouched by the pomp and grandeur around her. She seemed apart from it all—rooted in some deeper, colder truth that made the gilded splendour of the hall feel hollow.

Brandon’s attention followed his line of sight, drawn inevitably to the Iron Throne. That jagged, monstrous seat of swords loomed above the hall, its sharp edges whispering of blood spilt and secrets kept. It was no mere throne—it was a warning, a legacy forged in fire and fear.

“It doesn’t suit her,” Brandon murmured, as if speaking a truth he’d only just realized.

“No,” Cregan agreed, his voice low and steady. “It does not.”

Brandon tilted his head, his youthful curiosity breaking through the moment. “But why? Why did she refuse?”

Cregan’s eyes lingered on Claere beside him, silently playing with her spoon, a soft murmur under her breath, her soft profile catching the flicker of firelight. There was a reverence in his voice as he answered, low and intended.

“Because she does not rule with swords and fear. The Iron Throne demands both—and she would not let it make her cruel.”

Brandon furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking between his father and the twisted enormity at the heart of the hall. “So... she chose you instead?”

Cregan turned to his son, a rare softness in his expression. “She chose herself—and the family we built together.”

The words hung in the air, wrapping around the three of them like a protective shield. Claere paused her quiet humming, her violet eyes flicking up to meet Cregan’s for a brief moment. There was no need for words between them.

Brandon, however, found his attention drifting elsewhere. His gaze wandered to a cluster of figures seated at a smaller table on the far side of the hall, shadowed but unmistakable. There was something about them—an air of detachment, of belonging to a different story entirely. One of them caught his eye, a tall, lean figure with long silver hair and an eyepatch glinting in the candlelight.

Brandon’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t quite name. He knew the man, though he’d never met him. Knew him from tales that Maester had painted of him, of his mount, Vhagar. Of how he'd claimed such a dragon, so young. Aemond One-Eye. The rogue prince whose name carried both dread and fascination.

He turned back to his father, keeping his voice low. “Da,” he asked cautiously, his words edged with unease. “How come they’re here?”

Cregan followed his son’s gaze, his posture stiffening as his eyes landed on the table. Aemond sat with a languid confidence, his single eye gleaming with sharp amusement as though he could sense the Stark lord’s scrutiny. Nearby sat Alicent, her posture rigid, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Helaena sat, twisting a strand of her hair and shot Brandon a small smile, while Aegon, glassy-eyed and dishevelled, picked at his plate without interest.

“They, too, are your mother’s kin,” Cregan said after a moment, his voice clipped. “Her uncles and aunt. They’re not well-loved here, even now.”

Brandon’s brow furrowed again, but his eyes remained fixed on Aemond. “Aemond One-Eye is a skilled swordsman,” he said in a hushed voice, almost in awe. “Father, you must let me—”

“Bran.” Cregan’s tone was sharp, cutting his son off before he could finish. “That is where we draw the line.”

The boy flinched slightly at the firmness in his father’s voice. He glanced at Claere, hoping for some reprieve, but she didn’t look at him. Her gaze was steady, locked on the silver-haired prince across the hall.

Aemond, as if sensing their attention, smirked. It was a cruel, knowing expression, one that seemed to challenge the very air between them. His single eye glinted as it flicked from Claere to Cregan, lingering just long enough to feel like a deliberate taunt.

Cregan’s hand tightened into a fist, though he didn’t rise or speak. His jaw worked as he stared back, his wolf’s eyes cold and unyielding.

The tension in the hall crackled like frost underfoot. Brandon, though young, could feel it as he watched his father’s jaw tighten and his gaze narrow at the far table. Aemond’s smirk had only deepened as he leaned back lazily, his long fingers curling around the stem of his goblet. It was the posture of a man who feared no consequence, and it made Brandon’s stomach twist.

Cregan’s voice, when it came, was low but carried the weight of ice. “You’re a bold man, Prince Aemond,” he said, the title clipped, bitter on his tongue. “To sit there smirking like a cat in a coop, after the damage your house has done.”

Aemond tilted his head slightly, the firelight glinting off the edge of his eyepatch. His smirk widened, sharper now, more deliberate. “Damage?” he echoed, the word soft but dripping with mockery. “Surely you’ve seen your share of bloodshed, Stark. Or do Northerners keep their hands so clean they can point fingers without guilt?”

Cregan rose slowly, his chair scraping against the stone floor, the sound grating enough to make Claere glance up from her quiet contemplation. “If my hands were unclean, prince,” Cregan said, his voice a low growl, “you’d feel it across your jaw.”

“Father, don't,” Brandon whispered, alarmed, tugging at his sleeve.

Aemond leaned forward slightly, as though entertained by the rising tension. “Yes, listen to your pup, Stark. Threats have a way of turning into invitations. And I accept such things readily.”

“Aemond,” Alicent interjected, her voice sharp, though it wavered at the edges. “Enough. You shame yourself—and us.” She placed a hand on his arm, as though to stay him, but he brushed it off gently without looking at her.

Brandon, encouraged by his father’s stance, couldn’t hold back his question. “Why do you act like this?” he asked, his young voice cutting through the room like an unexpected breeze. His words were unpolished, direct. “You’re supposed to be our kin.”

Aemond turned his head sharply, his single eye locking onto the boy. The smirk faded, replaced by something colder, though not entirely without amusement.

“And what would a boy like you know of kinship?” he asked, his voice soft and biting. “The White Wolf—even the name leaves my tongue feeling sour. When a direwolf lays with a bastard dragon, do you call that kinship? Or depravity?”

Cregan’s fist slammed onto the table, the sound reverberating through the hall. “Speak those words before my family again, and I’ll make sure your other eye matches the first.”

“Enough. Both of you,” Claere said, her voice cutting through the room like a whip crack. She stood, her hands calm, but her eyes burned with a quiet fury as they fixed on Aemond. “Aemond, you’ve proven your wit. Cregan, your son has his eyes on you.”

Cregan hesitated, his grey eyes lingering on Aemond for a moment longer before he exhaled sharply and sat back down. Brandon clung to his father's shoulder as if restraining him.

Aemond met her gaze for a moment, his smirk threatening to return, but when he saw the set of her jaw and the icy stillness of her expression, he gave a slight incline of his head.

“As you wish, sweet niece,” he murmured, though the mockery lingered in his tone.

Alicent, looking harried, finally pulled at Aemond’s sleeve with more force. “Come,” she said firmly. “We’ve lingered long enough.”

With a shrug, Aemond rose, draining the last of his wine before setting the goblet down with deliberate care. He glanced at Cregan one last time, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eye. Then, with a flick of his violet eye, he turned and strode out, Alicent following close behind.

The doors groaned shut behind them, leaving a silence that was more deafening than the clamor of conversation earlier.

Brandon sat stiffly, his small hands clutching the edge of the table. His gaze darted to his father, wide-eyed, searching for answers he could not yet articulate. “Da,” he began, his voice unsure.

Cregan’s sharp look silenced him. “The world doesn’t fight fair, Bran,” he said, his voice low, like the growl of a wolf. “Men like him thrive on your weakness. Remember that.”

Brandon nodded but said nothing, his lips pressed into a firm line.

Claere’s hand brushed against Cregan’s arm, the touch light but insistent. He turned his head slightly, his storm-grey eyes softening only for her. She leaned closer, her voice a whisper barely louder than the crackle of the torches.

“Nothing about this place feels right. I feel sick,” she murmured, her gaze flicking past Cregan’s shoulder to where Helaena sat at her table. The Targaryen princess’s pale eyes were fixed on Claere, her expression unreadable but laced with a quiet sorrow.

Cregan followed her gaze briefly before nodding. His hand closed over hers, rough and grounding, before he rose. “Let's have you rested, my love.”

Bran watched his parents, deploring.

“We’re leaving,” Cregan said firmly, his voice cutting through the lingering unease in the hall. He placed a hand on Brandon’s shoulder, urging the boy to his feet. Claere stood as well, taking Bran into the arch of her side.

As they moved toward the exit, the sound of their steps echoed in the cavernous room, every eye tracking their departure. The doors closed behind them with a dull thud, the sound resonating like the closing of some unseen door in fate’s design.

Cregan paced the chambers, the soft candlelight casting flickering shadows over his bare chest. There was a sheen to him, like he'd returned from a swim out at sea when really the heat was too warm by half. His tunic and coat lay strewn across the floor, casualties of his brooding temper. His hair was mussed from the constant drag of his hand through it, his jaw set like stone, holding back the sharper edge of his fury.

Claere lay on her stomach, nestled in the grand canopy bed, the silk covers draped loosely over her shoulders, her chin resting lightly on her folded hands. Her violet eyes followed him in silence, tracking his every movement. She said nothing, but the flicker of golden light over his broad shoulders, the fire in his grey eyes, and the tension in his frame—it pleased her more than she cared to admit.

“I will not allow it,” Cregan growled, his voice low and rough, vibrating with barely restrained anger. “My son, raised in the shadow of Targaryens? Bowing to them, serving their whims?” He stopped mid-step, turning on his heel to glare into the distance. His hand raked through his hair again, tugging at the strands. “What kind of Northerner bends the knee to fire?”

“A bold one,” Claere said, her voice soft, like a blade sheathed in velvet.

Cregan’s head snapped to her, his storm-grey eyes narrowing. Her calm demeanour seemed only to fuel the fire in him. “Bold?” he spat, incredulous. “No. Foolish. He’s too young to know what they’ll demand of him, what they’ll strip away. They’ll keep him here, chain him with loyalty, make him their sword—and he’s meant to rule the North, not waste his blood in service to their crown.”

Claere tilted her head slightly, the soft silver of her hair catching the faint breeze from the window. “They are his blood as much as they are mine,” she said evenly. “Is it so wrong for him to want to know them?”

Cregan let out a sharp breath, his hands bracing on his hips. “He doesn't need their approval. We're Starks,” he said, his voice cold and final as if the truth of the North was enough to silence any argument.

“And he's a Targaryen,” Claere countered, her voice quiet but unyielding. “You knew that the moment he was born.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Cregan muttered, resuming his restless pacing.

With every step, his frustration deepened, and with every sharp motion, another layer fell away, another furious mutter about the heat. His belt hit the floor first, then his boots. By the time he reached the hearth, he was stripped down to his breeches, his chest heaving with the effort of holding his temper.

“You’ll wear a trench into the stone,” Claere remarked, her tone edged with amusement.

Cregan turned, his lips twitching despite himself. “You find this amusing?”

“Not at all,” she said, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. “But you’re very… lively when you’re infuriated.”

He froze, staring at her, his expression torn between irritation and something warmer. “Lively?”

“Passionate,” she corrected, her gaze holding his.

The word struck him harder than he cared to admit, and for a moment, his temper wavered and a small smile bloomed. She reclined against the pillows, the golden light painting her features in soft relief. Her hair, loose and unbound, spilt across her shoulders like molten silver. There was a knowing look in her violet eyes that stilled him more effectively than any word could.

He crossed the room in a few strides, looming over the edge of the bed.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused, though the fire in his voice had dimmed to an ember, flickering weakly beneath his frustration.

Claere blinked up at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Enjoying you sulking? Fuming? Growling at shadows? Jealous that your son looks up to someone who isn't you?” Her voice was soft, laced with mirth. “Perhaps.”

Cregan huffed, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart. His voice dropped, low and rough. “Impossible woman.”

“Stubborn man,” she replied, her tone calm, her gaze steady.

For a moment, her words hung in the air, heavy as snow on ancient pine boughs. Cregan exhaled deeply, his shoulders sinking under her quiet truth. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, scrubbing a hand over his jaw and face. It almost felt like the world's tonnage was hanging off his neck.

“Come,” Claere murmured, shifting to make space. She reached for him, her touch gentle as she guided his head to rest in her lap.

He barely hesitated before letting himself fall into her care, his weight sinking heavily onto her thighs, as though he carried the weight of every storm in Winterfell. Her fingers slipped into his dark hair, cool and soft, brushing through the strands with ease that unravelled the knot of tension coiled at the base of his neck. The quiet rhythm of her touch was soothing, a balm for the raw edges of his frustration.

“Let him be,” Claere whispered, her voice a gentle command, soft yet unyielding. “Let him find himself, make mistakes, learn. This is what he wants.”

Cregan closed his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath. He lifted a hand, weary and slow, to rub at his face as though trying to scrub away the ache in his chest.

“He’s our son,” he said. “I can’t simply let him go. He’s but a boy.”

“Nearly eleven. A man grown,” Claere chuckled softly. It wasn’t dismissive, but tender, carrying an affection that could pierce through his storm-clouded thoughts.

His lips twitched faintly at her laughter, the corner of his mouth lifting as if to meet her warmth, but the heaviness remained, pressing against him like an unrelenting tide. He swallowed hard, his throat working against the swell of words lodged there.

“Ever since…” His voice wavered, the syllables slipping from his mouth like broken shards. “Her.”

Her hand stilled, her fingers resting gently against his temple. A shared silence fell between them, heavy with the unspoken. She didn’t need to ask who. The memory of their firstborn, the one they lost before they even knew her face, lingered between them like a shadow cast by a distant flame.

“I’ve felt this unquenching need,” Cregan said at last, his voice rough and low, as if every word cost him. “To shield everyone. I'm the one who stands between my family and the rest of the world.” His breath hitched, and his fingers clenched briefly against the fabric of her skirts. “I can’t… I cannot lose another. Cannot afford to now. Not when grief is so far behind us I dare to believe we’ve escaped it.”

The vulnerability in his voice was a rare thing, raw and unguarded, and it made Claere’s heart ache for him. She bent her head toward his, her silver hair spilling down to mingle with his dark locks. The contrast was striking, a tangle of moonlight and shadow, wolf and dragon bound together by shared pain and quiet resilience.

“You won’t lose him, Cregan,” she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, her voice threading softly through the cracks in his armour. “But you have to trust him and let him grow. No matter how far he roams, he’ll always find his way back to the pack.”

His breath shuddered against her lap, the words sinking deep into the ache in his chest. Slowly, as though the weight of her assurance began to ease the crushing guilt he carried, he nodded. His head pressed against her, seeking the solace only she could offer, a stillness he could find nowhere else.

The garden of the Red Keep was alive with the gentle hum of crickets and the muted rustle of leaves stirred by the evening breeze. The scent of jasmine hung in the air, mingling with the faint tang of salt from Blackwater Bay. The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson that reflected off the polished stone of the courtyard fountain.

Seated at a table draped in white linen, amidst the sprawling garden, Rhaenyra Targaryen watched her grandson with a quiet awe she had not felt in years. The boy was a Stark through and through, with his storm-grey eyes and the faintest dusting of freckles across his pale cheeks, but there was something unmistakable about him that spoke of his mother. His hair, pale as Luna's wing, caught the light with the faintest sheen of white, a gift from the dragonblood running through his veins.

Brandon tore a piece of warm bread from the loaf between them, his fingers deft and sure.

“You should have seen Rickon last week,” he said, his voice animated. “He was trying to teach Eddric to shoot. They’re both useless, of course. I keep telling Rickon to stop puffing his chest and aim properly, but he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she reached for a cup of spiced wine. “And you, darling? Were you the one to show them how it’s done?”

Brandon grinned, a flash of teeth that was all wolf. “Of course I was. Someone has to keep them in line.” His face softened as he leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “Though Luce is worse than both of them combined. Did you know she refuses to sleep anywhere but on my shoulder these days? If I so much as move, she howls loud enough to wake the gods.”

The mention of her granddaughter brought a rare, genuine smile to Rhaenyra’s lips. “She sounds as demanding as her namesake,” she said, her voice touched with both fondness and melancholy.

“She’s a little terror,” Brandon agreed with a dramatic sigh, though his tone betrayed nothing but affection. “But I love her the most.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered on him, her mind slipping into memories of Claere as a child—how her daughter would sit by the fire, pouring over flowers in a soft mumble, her silver hair glowing in the firelight. Brandon had that same intensity, that same spark of life. Yet where Claere had always carried an air of distant melancholy, Brandon seemed unburdened, his laughter bright and unguarded.

“You’re a breath of fresh air, Brandon,” Rhaenyra said softly, her words catching the boy’s attention. “I don’t know that I’ve laughed this much in years.”

Brandon tilted his head, his sharp features softening. “You should come North more often, Grandmother. You’d find plenty to laugh at with my brothers around. And Luce. She’s probably tormenting her septa as we speak.”

Rhaenyra laughed again, a sound that surprised even herself. Her hands reached for the bread, breaking off a piece and toying with it absentmindedly.

“Perhaps I will,” she murmured, though her heart clenched at the thought. The North was Claere’s world now, a place she had only touched briefly, where Rhaenyra’s legacy seemed small against the towering walls of Winterfell.

Brandon, as if sensing the shift in her mood, leaned forward, his tone light. “Tell me about Syrax,” he said, his grey eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Mother told me she was a golden dragon. Is she as fierce as she sounds?”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened further, her thoughts turning to the dragon she had not ridden in years. “Syrax is a queen in her own right,” she said, her voice reverent. “Golden as the sun, proud as the first flame. She was my companion through the best and worst of times.”

Brandon’s eyes lit up. “Do you still ride her?”

A shadow passed over her face, though her smile remained. “No, sweetling. My time as her rider has passed. But she’s still mine, and she would not turn away the blood of my blood.”

Brandon tilted his head, curious. “What do you mean?”

Rhaenyra reached out, her hand cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing over his hair. “You should try and claim her,” she said softly, her words carried beyond their simplicity. “You’re of her blood, of her fire. She would accept you. I know it.”

Brandon blinked, startled. “Me?” he breathed, his voice tinged with awe.

“You, my brave boy,” Rhaenyra said, her tone firm. “You’ve got the blood of kings and queens in you, just as much as the wolves. You’re meant for something greater.”

For a moment, he seemed speechless, his grey eyes searching hers. Then, with a grin that was as wild and free as the North, he leaned back and said, “Maybe I will.”

The midday sun poured through the windows of the Red Keep’s solar, gilding the stone floor in rippling light. Outside, the distant din of King’s Landing played like a faraway melody: the clang of market bells, the chatter of traders, the call of gulls drifting from Blackwater Bay.

Inside, Claere lounged on a cushioned bench, her legs stretched out lazily across Cregan’s lap. One foot was bare, her silken slipper dangling precariously from her other toes as she shifted, wriggling to catch the light. Her fingers danced in the air, casting fleeting shadows against the high, arched walls. A butterfly flapped its wings, morphing into a crocodile that snapped its jaws before melting into a sparrow.

Cregan sat at ease, a knife in one hand, an orange in the other. He peeled it with the care of a man sharpening a blade, the rind coming away in one long spiral. His head was bowed slightly, but his eyes flicked up to her now and then, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” he muttered, gesturing toward her shadow play. “Not as dreadful as the last butterfly you tried.”

Claere scoffed, her toes pressing lightly into his thigh. “I had two children hanging off my arms when I made that butterfly. I should like to see you do better with little Luce clawing at your hair.”

“I’d make a proper direwolf,” he said, leaning back as he flicked the orange peel onto the table. His grey eyes glinted with quiet challenge.

She raised an eyebrow, her hands pausing midair. “A direwolf, you say? Go on, show me.”

He set the orange down, wiped his hands on a cloth, and raised them. The shadows twisted into something vaguely lupine—more of a blob with pointed ears.

Claere giggled, her laughter soft but unrestrained. “Is that supposed to frighten me? It looks more like a sheep with horns.”

The golden light softened the sharp edges of his face, his Northern ruggedness somehow at odds with the languid peace of the moment. Claere traced his profile with her eyes—the set of his jaw, the faint curve of his smirk—and felt a pang of gratitude for this rare interlude.

“What's going on in your head?” he asked, not looking at her, his hands now occupied with dividing the orange into sections.

“How much you remind me of a bear every now and then,” she said with mock seriousness. “Big, grumpy, growling at anyone who comes too close.”

He chuckled, low and rumbling. “I’ll remember that the next time you call me wolf.”

She smiled, her hand reaching out to take a slice of the orange he offered her. The sweetness burst on her tongue, and she closed her eyes briefly, savouring it. The Red Keep, for all its burdens and shadows, had afforded them a rare reprieve, a pocket of time carved from the relentless press of duty.

But the peace shattered like glass underfoot when the door to the solar burst open. Two guards stumbled in, dragging a soot-covered figure between them. The acrid scent of smoke and singed hair preceded them, and Claere and Cregan froze, their shared moment breaking apart as reality surged in.

The boy's tunic was torn, his face smeared with soot and ash. A gash marred his cheek, sluggishly oozing blood. The acrid stench of smoke clung to him, mingling with the scent of charred leather. Beneath the grime, his sharp grey eyes were unmistakable.

“Brandon.”

It was Cregan who moved first, surging from his chair, the knife and orange clattering to the ground. His heavy boots echoed against the stone floor as he closed the distance, his towering frame lowering to kneel before the boy. His hands, rough and calloused, reached out instinctively, gripping Brandon’s shoulders, scanning his son for injuries.

“Who did this?” His voice was low, cold, edged with barely contained fury.

The guards, though hardened men of the Keep, faltered under the Warden of the North’s glare. One cleared his throat nervously. “He—he snuck into the Dragonpit, my lord.”

A tense silence followed as the words sank in.

“He tried to claim the Queen’s mount, Syrax.”

“Bran,” Claere sighed, her voice tinged with exasperation as she rubbed her temple, though the faint tremor in her hand betrayed her fear.

“Out,” Cregan growled, cutting her off. His voice was thunderous, and the guards didn’t wait for a second command. They dropped their hold on the boy and backed out of the room with hurried bows, the door slamming shut behind them.

Cregan rose to his full height, looming over his son. His face, lined with the weight of leadership and fatherhood, was dark with anger.

“Did you fall on your head one too many times, boy?” His voice was sharp with the ferocity of a father's fear, his Northern accent biting. “Do you want death so much you have to go find it? You thought to claim a dragon—dragon! Alone! Do you think yourself fireproof, huh?”

Brandon stood his ground, his chin lifting defiantly, shoulders squared, the faintest hint of his father’s stubbornness mirrored in his young face. He said nothing, his jaw tight, and with a deliberate step, he brushed past Cregan and toward his mother.

“I’m talking to you, Bran!” Cregan’s voice thundered again, but the boy didn’t falter. “You’re scrubbing the stables when we get back, do you hear me? The filthiest ones. I don't care how long. Every day until your arms give out!”

Brandon didn’t so much as flinch. He quietly moved to Claere’s side, his head bowing as he settled beside her.

“Sit,” Claere commanded softly, her tone holding none of Cregan’s fury but all of its authority. She reached to dampen a cloth from a jug, her movements calm and deliberate as she began to dab at the soot and grime streaking her son’s face.

“Hold still,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost a whisper.

Brandon obeyed, though his eyes flicked to his father’s looming form across the table.

“Don’t coddle him, Claere,” Cregan growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He needs discipline, not mothering. Look at him; there's no remorse in his eyes. Ungrateful little... He could have—” He cut himself off, the words sticking in his throat.

“He did not. It's alright, Cregan,” Claere said quietly, her tone cutting through the tension like a blade.

Her husband’s jaw tightened, but when she glanced up at him, her steady gaze held him in place. It wasn’t reproachful, but neither was it yielding. Slowly, his shoulders eased, though the storm still lingered in his grey eyes.

“What happened, Bran?” Claere asked again, her focus returning to Brandon. Her voice was soft, coaxing.

“They were all going to the dragonpit,” Brandon mumbled, his voice barely audible. “Laena, Daeron. All of them left me behind, Ma.” He sniffled, his small chest hitching with restrained tears. “I wanted to go, too.”

Claere sighed, her hand pausing as she rubbed at the soot on his neck. She leaned forward slightly, her silver hair cascading like a curtain around them, creating a small, private world.

“And you thought claiming a dragon would make them see you differently?” she asked, her tone free of judgment.

Brandon hesitated, then nodded, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “I just wanted to be... like them. Like you.”

Claere’s breath caught at his words, but she schooled her expression, her thumb brushing his cheek as she cupped his face. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone—not to them, not to me. You’re already enough.”

Cregan shifted behind her, the sound of his boots against the stone floor filling the quiet. His anger had ebbed now, replaced by something deeper—guilt, perhaps, or worry.

“Bran,” Cregan said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “We don’t need dragons to make us strong. What makes you a man isn’t fire or glory—it’s honour, and knowing how to protect those you love.”

Brandon glanced at his father, his small face torn between shame and defiance. “But they think I’m weak because I don't have a dragon.”

“They don’t know you,” Cregan said sharply, stepping closer. “Not like me or your mother does. Not like your people do. You’ve got more fire in you than you know, son. You don’t need to risk your life to prove it.”

Claere glanced back at Cregan, her eyes softening at the rough edge in his tone. She reached out, resting her free hand on his arm.

“He’s young,” she said gently, reminding them of the earlier conversation they shared. “He’s learning.”

Cregan nodded, though he didn’t look at her. His focus remained on Brandon, the lines of his face softening at last. “A month in the stables,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll think twice next time before putting yourself in danger.”

Brandon’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “Fine.”

Claere smiled faintly, dabbing at one last streak of soot. “There,” she said, brushing her hand over his hair. She placed a deep, long kiss on his cheek. “Clean enough to sit at the table again.”

The boy managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He slid off the bench and stood uncertainly between them, looking from his mother to his father.

Cregan let out a long breath and crouched to his son’s level, resting a broad hand on his shoulder. “Next time you feel left out,” he said quietly, “talk to me. We’ll find something worth your bravery—but not this. Not dragons.”

Brandon’s lips parted, his defiance flickering for a moment as if he might argue. But then, seeing the unyielding lines of his father’s face, he relented. His shoulders sagged, and his voice was smaller than before.

“Yes, Da.”

Cregan’s hand squeezed his shoulder once, a silent acknowledgement of the promise before he released him. He smacked the back of his head lightly, ushering him away.

“Get out of here and get cleaned,” Cregan told him. “You look like pigshit.”

Brandon lingered for a moment longer, then turned and padded toward the doorway.

Claere’s gaze followed her son as he disappeared into the corridor beyond. Her hand, resting on the table, tightened briefly into a fist before she relaxed her fingers.

“You were harder on him than usual,” she said softly, her voice carrying none of the reproach it might have.

Cregan didn’t answer immediately. He straightened with a groan, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his broad shoulders. Dragging a hand through his dark hair, he looked at her, his jaw tight.

“One of us had to be,” he replied, his voice low and heavy with something unspoken. “Taming dragons. Tsk. Foolish fuckin' lad.”

The air was crisp with the bite of late autumn, the scent of hay and manure thick in the stables back in Winterfell as Brandon Stark worked the rake over the uneven floor. His arms ached, his back stung from leaning too long, and his frustration simmered just beneath his skin. Scrubbing the stables wasn’t the worst punishment his father had ever doled out, but the indignity of it gnawed at him.

His brothers, as always, were more hindrance than help. Eight-year-old Rickon had armed himself with a brush and was vigorously sweeping, though his efforts did little more than stir the hay into scattered piles. Five-year-old Ed trailed behind him, copying his every move, while Luce, the youngest and the most spirited, darted about the stalls, her voice rising in an off-key rendition of "Foxy’s Hole." She seemed utterly oblivious to the tension simmering in her elder brother.

“What’s the capital like?” Ed asked suddenly, his small hands smudged with dirt as he crouched to pick through the straw. “Are there dragons everywhere?”

“And the Kingsguard,” Rickon added, pausing his dramatic sweeps to look up. “Is King Daemon as strong as they say? Did you see Caraxes?”

Bran froze for a moment, the rake still in his hands. The images came unbidden: the Red Keep with its high walls and colder shadows, the whispers in court that hissed behind every smile, the weight of Targaryen eyes on him. The songs had lied, just like the stories of dragons made for little boys’ dreams.

“It’s not what you’d think,” he muttered, his voice low as he looked away.

Ed wrinkled his nose, his face scrunching with confusion. “But it’s the Red Keep!” he insisted. “Mummy grew up there. It must be grand.”

Rickon elbowed him and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Bran’s just mad because Da made him clean out horse dung.”

Bran’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the rake handle until his knuckles whitened. He wanted to snap back but forced himself to take a breath instead. Straightening, he raked his fingers through his hair and spoke before he could think better of it.

“I’m going back next winter,” he said flatly. “To squire for the king. For Uncle Jace.”

The words dropped into the stillness like a stone into a frozen lake, shattering the moment. Rickon stilled mid-sweep, and Ed’s mouth fell open in stunned disbelief. Even Luce, who had been twirling in circles, stopped and turned her wide violet eyes on him, her expression unreadable.

“You’re leaving Winterfell?” Rickon blurted, aghast.

A sharp whistle sliced through the crisp air, cutting through the chatter and the rustling of hay. All four siblings froze, their heads snapping toward the gates where Cregan Stark stood, his broad frame outlined against the slate-grey sky. His weathered face carried a familiar authority and warmth, and with two fingers, he beckoned them forward. Rickon and Ed bolted instantly, eager to obey, their boots thudding against the frozen earth.

Bran lingered, his hands tightening around the rake. He cast a sidelong glance at Luce, who clutched his hand, her small fingers curling tightly around his. She wasn’t moving.

“Go on, then,” he muttered, sighing. “Don’t make him wait.”

Luce shook her head stubbornly, her violet eyes wide with mischief. “I don’t want to.”

Bran rolled his eyes, kicking the rake aside with frustration. “Fine. Let’s go.” He extended his finger to her, and with her tiny hand wrapped around his, he trudged toward their father, his steps heavy with reluctance.

When they reached the gates, Rickon and Ed were already beaming under Cregan’s rough hands as he tousled their hair. His gaze shifted, landing on Luce as she hovered behind Bran, half-hidden. He arched a brow, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Snuck away from your septa again, have you?” His voice was a low rumble, laced with gentle reproach.

Luce’s grip on Bran’s leg tightened as she tried to disappear behind him entirely. Cregan’s brow lifted higher.

“Rickon, Ed,” he said, his tone turning firm, though there was still warmth beneath it. “Take your sister back to her lessons. She’s not to be running loose.”

“But—” Luce began, her protest dying on her lips as Rickon swooped in, his grin wolfish. With a quick motion, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“No use arguing, Luce,” Rickon teased, cackling as she squirmed and kicked her little legs. “You’re outmatched.”

“Bran!” she wailed, reaching for him as Rickon carried her off. Ed trailed after them, giggling at her indignation.

Bran watched them go, his arms crossing over his chest, his jaw tightening as he turned his gaze to the ground. The heat of his frustration simmered again, bubbling up beneath the surface. The stables were punishment enough; he didn’t need another lecture.

“You’re sulking,” Cregan observed, his deep voice cutting through Bran’s thoughts. There was a faint teasing edge to his tone, but it was undercut by quiet understanding.

“I’m not,” Bran snapped, though the words sounded half-hearted even to his own ears.

Cregan stepped closer, towering over his son with that familiar weight of presence. He reached out and nudged Bran’s shoulder lightly, forcing him a step forward. “Come on, lad,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ve something to show you.”

Bran frowned, his arms tightening across his chest. “If this is another punishment—”

“Far from it,” Cregan interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “But keep dragging your feet, and I might change my mind.”

Bran sighed heavily but relented, falling into step behind his father. Together, they crossed the courtyard toward the kennels, the air alive with the low growls and soft whines of the direwolves housed within. The sharp scent of pine and frost hung thick around them, mingling with the earthy musk of the animals.

At the edge of the enclosure, Cregan stopped before a small pen. The low growls and soft whines of the wolves fell away as Bran followed his gaze. Inside, a lone wolf paced nervously, its coat a deep, glossy black that seemed to drink in the pale light. Its sharp yellow eyes darted toward them, wary and unblinking, its every movement tense with distrust.

Cregan crouched by the pen, his hands steady as he unlatched it. “Come closer,” he said, his voice low but gentle.

Bran hesitated, his eyes fixed on the wolf. Its wiry frame was all sharp angles, a creature of feral instincts and quiet resilience. Yet something in its gaze—something untamed and fierce—stirred something deep in Bran, a strange pull he didn’t quite understand.

Cregan slipped inside first, his movements deliberate as he reached for the wolf.

“Found him in the woods,” he said, his tone soft but resonant. “All alone. Half-starved, snarling at shadows.” He chuckled quietly, scratching behind the wolf’s ears. The creature flinched at first but gradually stilled under his touch. “Sniveling little fighter,” Cregan added, glancing back at Bran with a small, knowing smile. “Reminded me of someone.”

Bran bristled, though he stepped closer, his curiosity outweighing his indignation.

Cregan cradled the wolf with surprising gentleness, lifting it from the pen and holding it against his broad chest. The wolf let out a low, hesitant growl, but Cregan’s steady hands quieted it. “Go on,” he said, extending the wolf toward Bran.

Bran’s breath caught as the creature’s sharp gaze locked onto his. For a moment, he froze, unsure. Then, carefully, he reached out, taking the wolf into his arms. Its warmth was startling, a living, breathing contrast to the biting cold of the air. It wriggled slightly, testing his grip, but Bran held firm.

Cregan watched him, his expression softening. “What would you have named your dragon?” he asked suddenly, his tone light but pointed.

The question hit harder than Bran expected, and his grip on the wolf tightened. He frowned, his shoulders tensing.

“You don’t have to rub salt in the wound, Da,” he muttered. “I know what I don’t have.”

“Humor me,” Cregan pressed, his voice steady, his eyes holding Bran’s. There was no teasing now, just quiet patience.

Bran hesitated, his face heating with embarrassment. “Frostbane,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Cregan’s laugh rang out, a warm, rich sound that echoed through the kennel. Bran scowled, turning away, but his father’s hand was quick to catch his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Don’t turn your back on me, boy,” Cregan said, his voice softening. He reached out, his large hand brushing the wolf’s sleek black fur. “Frostbane’s a damn fine name. Look at him—sharp, fierce, a survivor. Just like you.”

Bran blinked, startled by the words. He glanced down at the wolf in his arms, its yellow eyes watching him with an intensity that mirrored his own.

“He’s yours,” Cregan said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Not just any wolf, Bran. A direwolf for a Stark who’s more than he thinks he is. Who doesn’t need dragons to be great.”

Bran’s throat tightened. The weight of his father’s words settled over him, heavy and warm, easing the sting of the day’s frustrations. “Mine?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

Cregan nodded, ruffling the pup’s ears. “Yours. He’ll grow to match you—strong, proud. A king of the wilds, like his friend.”

Bran’s chest swelled with a mixture of pride and relief. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he grinned, the corners of his mouth lifting as the wolf squirmed in his arms.

“Frostbane,” he said again, testing the name aloud.

“A Stark name,” Cregan said, watching his son with a faint smile. “And one that’ll make the whole of Winterfell remember who you are.”

it's humbling when your inbox is as empty as your soul :') This feature was just something off the top of my head lmao I don't even know if it's that good but worth a shot!

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