#Rodrick Stone

[crimescrimson]

Red's Favourite Non-Canon Agents Of Mayhem Pairings: Fortwood | Frisephone | ColdSafe | DaisJoule

[dreamwhisprrr]

New kinlist just dropped

[lemonpiemosasaurus]

😔🫶

[devilmass]

❝ heard bout'cher parents. i never got t'give my condolences. ❞ the preacher reaches up for his hat, bringing it to his heart, fitting it just over his crucifix.

❝ yanno, if y'ever wanna get back in the business - ❞ @brothersgrim

[atbussysparks]

RIP Roderick heffley he would've loved BASEketball and infant annihilator ✊🏼😔👑

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

The Northern Winds

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader

Warnings: mention of blood & (domestic) violence, mature NSFW content (18+), mention of sexist and misogynistic medieval notions on women, arranged marriage

A/N: The story is set a few years before the Dance of the Dragons and somewhat inspired by Cregan's first marriage from the book. Many of the characters are fictional of my own imagination but I tried to keep some and the setting as close to Martin’s universe as possible – with some changes here and there for the sake of the plot.

Plot: Arranged marriage between the Lord of Winterfell and a lady from a minor house

Words: 18k

MASTERLIST

***

Letters of more and more wildling invasions of the Wall, reports of their hosts gathering even south of the Wall reached the halls of Winterfell on a weekly basis in the past months. When young Lord Stark rightfully took his father’s seat from his usurper uncle, he also pushed the wildlings back north. However that was some years ago and winter was knocking on the door. The wildlings have become bolder even.

Lord Stark was working with Maester Bennard, his most trusted advisor, on letters of diplomacy and matters that needed the noble seal of the Warden of the North. The solar where the Lord of Winterfell worked was located in Rodrick’s Tower, the largest of all of Winterfell’s towers. A smaller tower grew from its western wall a few hundred years ago where the Lords Stark carried on their duty to their people as masters of Winterfell.

A fire was lit in Lord Stark’s solar and many more candles to light the spacious chamber. The stone walls were lined with scrolls of parchment and important letters, which arrived from both the north and the south, along with some books containing lineages and retellings of the great events of Westeros. There was a great oaken desk in the middle of the solar and yet close enough to the window to allow for some more light. Behind it sat Lord Cregan Stark in the company of his maester, who handed him the most recent letters of the lords closest to the Wall, who were all asking for aid in the fight against the wildlings.

Maester Bennard hesitated as the matters of the day came to an end. “There was another letter, my lord.” Lord Stark pressed his seal into the hot wax. “From Whytefort.” Lord Stark’s hard grey eyes rose to meet his maester’s. Although Cregan Stark was a young man, he was much his father’s son; much a Stark. While his face displayed youth on the one hand, he was a man of solemn expression and of a formidable build. The Wolf of the North commanded respect in his subjects and was regarded as an honourable man and a great warrior. Unlike the Lord of Whytefort.

“Apparently Lord Whytefort shares our struggles with containing the wildlings on the northern side of the Wall, particularly in the mountains. As you know, castle Whytefort lies—”

“At the foot of the Iceraven, yes,” said the Lord of Winterfell. Iceraven was a mountain chain stretching from the north of Deepwood Motte all the way to the Kingsroad. It was in the shape of a flying raven’s wings with its peaks covered in ice and snow all throughout the seasons, hence the name. The Whytefort was built in the foot of the mountain; its stone, white walls making the castle one with the mountain and its caves. Although Deepwood Motte was the seat of House Glover, the Lords of Whytefort had maintained their seat, on what were officially Glover lands, beneath the Iceraven for thousands of years. But what land they had, it was watery and more clay than it was soil. However, it mattered little because the Whyteforters were mountain men. They were shepherds and craftsmen. And although not particularly wealthy or strong of a house, their words read Pride is our honour.

“There was a falling out when my father was still the Lord of Winterfell,” recalled Cregan Stark. The maester nodded. “Jonos Whytefort refused to bend the knee to Lord Glover as his liege lord, not even when Lord Rickon demanded he does so.”

“Why does he send a raven now?” asked Lord Stark rather displeased. It has been a long day of tedious letters and little solutions on how to face the wildling problem. “Which noble house offended his pride this time?”

“Actually,” broke Maester Bennard, “Lord Jonos offers his men to join forces with Winterfell against the wildlings. He speaks in the thousands.”

Lord Stark frowned as he looked at his maester. Even just five hundred and a thousand well-trained even if not seasoned men could make all the difference in defending the Wall and pushing the wildlings back. It would take a significant strain off his own greybeards and the rest of the houses sworn to House Stark on whom he called for aid. Yet although houses honourable and strong like Dustin, Umber, Karstark, and even Glover were more than gland to answer their lord’s call with nothing but good favour in return, that was not the way of House Whytefort.

“What does he ask in turn?” spoke the young Lord Stark gravely.

“He …” began Maester Bennard hesitantly. “He offers his daughter’s hand in marriage, and therefore the end of animosity sealed by this marriage arrangement.”

Lord Stark scoffed. “Of course he does. Does he also suggest which one of my three wretched cousins I should have the pretentious wench wed to?”

“Actually, Lord Jonos’ offer extends only to your person,” spoke Maester Bennard cautiously.

Lord Stark’s eyes darkened at the audacity expressed by Lord Whytefort through the making of this offer. Cregan squeezed the brass seal of his house in his large hand, leaving an imprint of the direwolf on his palm. Still, as the wildling attacks grew stronger by the month, Cregan was not in an entirely clear and straightforward position to refuse thousands of trained warriors.

“My lord will have to marry sooner or later,” offered Maester Bennard in consideration.

“I’d rather have it later than sooner,” said Lord Stark. He had only been Lord of Winterfell some years. It was his duty to marry but he had rather hoped it could wait a while longer. “And you advise it, Maester Bennard? Whytefort is a small house. They have some land but most of it belongs to the mountains. Little wealth to speak of …”

“I do, my lord, under the circumstances. Winter is coming and the Wall must needs be secured before it arrives. We do not know how long the winter will last this time. We might not even have enough for our own, much less to feed a mass of wildlings.”

Cregan Stark knew of that without his maester having to say it. He looked through the window and saw the snows sticking to the grey rooftops of the castle. Although this was still just summer snow he was watching fall, Lord Stark knew one thing was certain. Winter is coming. And with it cold and death. There was no time to waste.

Lord Stark got up. “Have a raven sent, Maester Bennard. I leave the arrangement of this folly in your hands.”

"As my lord commands."

***

“Do you know what the girl is like?” asked Cregan Stark as he took his supper in Rodrick’s Tower. Maester Bennard was often by his side even at mealtimes as the work often could not wait.

“I believe you met her once, my lord. As a boy of nine or ten if I am not mistaken,” said Maester Bennard, helping himself to some black pudding. Lord Stark washed down his meal with a small cup of ale. He had no recollection of any young Lady Whytefort or the Whyteforts ever visiting Winterfell. As mountain men they more oft than not kept to their lands beneath or atop the Iceraven.

“They visited Winterfell on their way to castle Cerwyn for Lord Cerwyn’s son Erick’s wedding. You may remember from your studies that Lady Whytefort is Lord Erick Cerwyn’s half-sister.” Cregan Stark nodded although he had no memory of ever learning that either. His mind must have been on swordplay or horse riding at the time Maester Bennard instructed him in the family ties of the minor houses of the North. He was desperate, however, for his mind to conjure an image of his future wife, even if only from childhood.

“I do not remember them visiting,” said Lord Stark. There hardly passed a week in his life without a visit at Winterfell from this or that house, family, or merchant.

“They only stayed the night before riding out in the morrow, so naturally you may not recall,” said Maester Bennard. “It was a long time ago …” he spoke more quietly as he knew what his lordship would ask him next.

“What do you remember of the girl, maester?”

“I …” hesitated Maester Bennard. “I know you are of age with the lady,” said the maester but that is not what Lord Stark was asking. His grey eyes were as cold as stone as they commanded the maester to speak plainly. “I remember, I believe, as a child she was neither entirely plain nor very comely. Or particularly well-mannered for a young lady - a rebellious child. She favoured the company of her horse and dog to that of the court and needed to be forced into a dress as she preferred breeches and jerkins, often stealing them from her older brother Daeron from what I heard. It was said to be a nightmare for her lady mother,” said Maester Bennard and took a sip of warm honeyed wine. “He, Daeron, is the future Lord of Whytefort and was named after his grandsire. You may remember him better,” said Maester Bennard. He would not lie to his lordship of his recollections. However, no matter how homely, or brazen if she is to be judged after her lord father?s character, the maid might have grown up to be, the wedding was imperative in taking place.

“The brother,” Maester Bennard cleared his throat, “Was said to be the one to have inherited the beauty of his parents. He was three-and-ten when you met him, the same age as you were when your lord father died. “Lord Jonos, however, assures Lady Y/N is as comely a beauty as any northern, or for that matter, southern lady. He sings praises of her wit and promises she is an accomplished young woman,” added Maester Bennard although neither himself nor Lord Stark were inclined to trust the words of a man whose pride exceeded his sense of honour – or duty for that matter. However, to Cregan Stark they represented the same. His duty was his honour and his honour was his duty. No Stark had ever broken his word and he had given his to Lord Jonos Whytefort to marry his daughter in exchange for a few thousand men.

“We shall know soon enough,” said the Lord of Winterfell soberly as he set down his cup and retired to his private chambers. The raven sent by Whytefort’s maester read their lord and his daughter would arrive in half a moon, which meant they would arrive on the morrow when the wedding ceremony would also take place.

***

The summer snows were melted by the sun during the day whilst the nights would remain as cold and crisp as ice. It was afternoon already when Lord Jonos arrived with his surprisingly unnumerous host of noblemen and women to witness the marriage of his only daughter to the Warden of the North. The castle had been in preparation of the feast for days before the arrival of Lord Whytefort. The main hall was being decorated in ribbons and flowers in the colours of House Stark and House Whytefort, whose banner bore a carmine brown fox on a field of black with white trees, symbolising the birchwood of their lands.

The ceremony was to be held in the godswood inside the castle walls of Winterfell beneath the heart tree as was customary in the North, where the faith of the Old Gods remained. As Cregan’s own father was dead, it would be Maester Bennard who would lead the ceremony as the most senior of Cregan’s advisors and one Lord Stark personally considered a friend.

The host arrived late in the afternoon although they were expected in the morning. The Warden was irked but would not let it show. Lord Cregan stood tall and solemn as he waited for his guests, for his future bride, in the main courtyard of the castle. The sound of hooves long echoed the walls of Winterfell before a host of wedding-adorned horse riders crossed the innermost gates. Cregan Stark recognized Lord Jonos from his short visit to Winterfell quickly upon his arrival. He had mousy blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea of Tarth. He was a reasonably tall man with some belly brought on by age and too many barrels of ale. Lord Jonos rode on a white palfrey with his son by his side on a mount of a coat that matched the Whytefort’s fox in colour. Daeron was a comely young man like the maester said, his eyes as green as summer trees with a head of rich dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He sat high in his horse yet not half as high as his lord father. The host of riders rounded in the vast courtyard, leading the way for an ornate carriage. To the onlookers, Lord Stark, the Warden of the North, was calm and dignified. But inside, Cregan felt a storm gathering. It was the displeasure of meeting a man so prideful that he would offer his daughter to the Lord of Winterfell without invitation; but mostly, a man who was too arrogant to bend the knee at the command of his most senior lord for a petty feud with House Glover over some land later won by the latter. Yet it was not only pride and arrogance that Lord Jonos Whytefort was famous for but also for containing an equal measure of tightfistedness as well as greed.

Half a dozen riders and a couple of wagons with supplies followed the carriage until it came to a stop and Lord Jonos dismounted along with his first-born and only son.

“Lord Stark,” said Lord Jonos Whytefort, bowing his head curtly. His son echoed his actions. Lord Stark was almost surprised at Whytefort’s courtesy. Yet if they had not been expressed properly, more would have been at stake for Lord Jonos rather than for the Lord of Winterfell.

“Lord Jonos,” said Cregan Stark and squeezed the man’s thick, gloved hand warily. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark. It was a surprisingly long journey.”

“Indeed,” said Cregan. “We had expected you this morning.”

Lord Jonos laughed, revealing that not only his belly but his teeth were affected by the too many barrels of ale. “Yes, indeed. The wheel of the carriage broke. There was replacing needed,” said Lord Jonos lightly although the spare wheel rested securely untouched in one of the wagons that followed the host.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark curtly although his hands itched to send Lord Jonos back to the mountains whence he came from. As he continued about their tedious journey from the security of their mountain hold, Cregan Stark’s gaze moved behind Lord Whytefort. The carriage door was held open, a woman round with curves and black hair secured in a net of pearls stepped from the carriage. For a moment, Cregan’s chest grew heavy with the burden of duty as he considered that may be his bride and Lord Jonos had tricked him by singing praises of his daughter's beauty. But the woman could not have been his bride as she must have been twice, nearly thrice Lord Cregan's age. The discomfortable thought disappeared when another figure emerged from the carriage and he realized the first woman must have been Lady Whytefort, the wife of Lord Jonos. She held her daughter’s hand and helped her climb from the carriage. Lady Y/N held up her rich black velvet skirts until her feet reached the floor. Her gown was trimmed with the fur of the carmine fox of her family’s banner and she wore a chain of white gold around her neck. The Lord of Winterfell came to realize that Lord Jonos must have been truthful for the first time in his life when he wrote of his daughter's comeliness.

Maester Bennard, who was among those to greet Winterfell’s guests, recognized the child he saw so many years ago in the young lady before him. Her eyes were still restless and deep as pools but they grew a warmth only changing into a woman grown can bring. There was no sight of men’s breeches or her brother’s jerkins. The gown young Lady Whytefort wore hugged her womanly body, the curves of her figure evident even with a heavy cloak hanging from her shoulders. The person he remembered was a child rebellious and wild, but the one standing before him was a woman grown and noble.

The cold, fresh air filled Y/N lungs, easing some of the sickness the ride in the stuffy carriage inflicted on her insides. Y/N looked up at the tall castle walls, the massive bricks of grey stone and granite towering over her. Her new gaol, she thought. She looked around until her eyes met those just as grey and cold as the castle walls. Y/N averted her gaze as her mother led her to where her lord father and her future husband were waiting. Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as she suddenly felt as hot as if she had arrived in Dorne and not in Winterfell.

Lord Jonos went on about their journey still, oblivious of his wife or his daughter’s presence or the decency of making their acquaintances. As Lord Jonos finally reached for breath, Lady Whytefort spoke, “Lord Stark, allow me to present my daughter, Lady Y/N of Whytefort.”

Y/N bowed graciously but managed no more than a glance at her future husband’s eyes. He was taller than her father even and the heavy cloak he wore made him appear as if there were two men beneath it rather than one. Lord Cregan Stark was as formidable a figure as any she had met.

“Well met, Lady Whytefort,” said Lord Stark curtly as he kissed her gloved hand.

“My lady,” said Lord Stark and turned to Y/N. He took her hand, not ungently, and kissed the top of her knuckles. Y/N could almost feel the warmth of his large hand although the both of them wore thick leather gloves. There was a sword strapped on his back, almost as tall as he was. Ice it was called, Y/N remembered from a book she read on the Kings of the North many years ago. It was Valeryan steel and passed on from generation to generation just the same as Visenya Targaryen’s Dark Sister.

“Welcome to Winterfell,” said Lord Stark to his future wife.

"Thank you, my lord," Lady Y/N thanked him but her voice collected although weaker than her normal self. She had been fighting off suitors for years and successfully so. But there was no way she was getting out of this marriage. She would not dare as the prospect of it was too good for her family. Unlike her father, whose pride was built on wealth and possession, Y/N’s pride consisted of honour and love she held for her family.

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” spoke Lady Whytefort assuredly. “Our apologies for arriving late. We … Had some trouble on the road,” she explained although her eyes twitched towards her husband for a moment. She was a beautiful woman once with raven black hair and honey brown eyes. The children of Lord and Lady Whytefort were a mixture of their parents each in their own way.

As Y/N fixed her cloak when the evening breeze blew through the courtyard and the courtesies between Lord Stark and her father continued. She took in the many faces which observed the arrival of her family: her arrival – the future Lady of Winterfell. Just the sound of it in her head was incomprehensible to her, what more the reality of her being there, in that moment. Y/N could never imagine herself wed and bearing children for her husband. She was much happier studying books the maesters gave her, happier taking drawing lessons, even doing needlepoint. She could not imagine relinquishing the freedom of riding her mare through Whytewoods, secretly wishing she had been born a boy rather than a girl. The freedoms enjoyed by her brother were always right in front of her eyes but never hers to savour. The life she wanted was denied to her on the account of her existence as a woman. There were times when she wished for a family of her own, a husband to share her life with. But whenever her father would arrange for a suitor, Y/N knew she would rather end up an oldmaid rather than marry and relinquish what little freedom was left to her. However, when her lord father gave her the news of her betrothal to the Lord of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North, she had no choice but to accept the decision for she understood what the match would represent for her family. She would no longer have to worry about her beloved mother in the old age, her brother losing his seat to greater, more powerful houses, or even worry about her father, whom she somehow loved deeply and despised at the same time, for there would be always the power of Winterfell standing behind them.

All the while Y/N attempted to distract herself with the architecture, with the people both common and noble observing her, she could not help but feel Lord Stark’s cold grey eyes burning into her like ice. She would not meet her future husband’s gaze for more than a moment though or she feared her eyes might let in tears. Lady Y/N was very good at letting people to believe she was calm and assured of herself. And the one thing Y/N vowed to herself was that she would not allow anyone to see how she truly felt inside at the prospect of this marriage; of leaving her life behind, her family and friends, her freedoms.

***

Lady Y/N, her mother, and their handmaids were showed to their chambers where Y/N was to prepare for the wedding ceremony. Although the colours of her house were black, white, and carmine, her wedding gown did not have any black in it. Her father claimed it was bad luck. Instead, Y/N wore a gown of cream white fabric as soft as butter. The handmaids helped her with the bell sleeves and the lacing, adjusting her stockings and helping her with her shoes, whilst her lady mother placed a necklace of white pearls and a single carmine ruby around her neck.

Y/N’s hands were cold with sweat at the thought of the night that was coming. Her fingers shook too gravely to clasp her own earrings. Saera, Lady Y/N's handmaiden, who was helping her dress one final time as Y/N would be required to take new handmaids from the morrow forward as Lady Stark of Winterfell, adjusted her earrings. At last, they clasped a heavy maiden’s cloak around her shoulders. This one did sport the black of House Whytefort but only at the hem. The collar was carmine fox fur and the chain a silver link fastened around the neck. Y/N’s mother wept at the sight of her daughter on her wedding day.

It was already dark when the party descended the castle and was shown to the godswood where the ceremony was to take place. Lady Y/N could feel the fire from the torches the guests carried but her body shivered from cold. Or fear.

In the godswood of Winterfell stood the largest heart tree Y/N had ever seen. Although there was some snow on the ground with small, almost invisible snowflakes falling, the tree stood proud with blood-red leaves crowning its branches. Y/N’s breath quivered as she looked up at the guests. There were not very many and yet still too many for her comfort. She saw two dark figures right beneath the heart tree, one tall and one much shorter, the maester Lady Y/N had seen upon her arrival. The face of the heart tree beckoned haughtily for her to approach. Lord Jonos clasped his daughter’s hand around his elbow, leading her to the weirwood tree.

“Stop shaking,” he gritted through his teeth, his intense blue gaze finding his daughter’s. There was ale on his breath as Lord Jonos refused to go sober at his daughter's wedding, particularly when it was at the expense of Winterfell rather than his own house.

Y/N could not say a word, her mouth to dry to speak although she had a cup of mulled wine to warm her up as she got ready. She tried to swallow but it was like trying to swallow a spoonful of sand. “And don’t even think of anything stupid,” said Lord Jonos and squeezed her hand so firmly in his that the bones in her fingers near cracked. “The future of our house depends on this.” His words weighed even heavier in Y/N's chest.

They stopped at the heart tree opposite of Lord Stark, whilst Maester Bennard stood at the head of the party. Cregan Stark wore the colours of his own house, standing tall in the sight of the Old Gods. There was not an emotion on his face that Y/N could read other than what she had learned was his usual, formidable self.

Lord Stark, however, could not help but notice the tremble in his bride's small, delicate hands and the tension in her body.

It was beginning to snow once again but thankfully the ceremony would be short unlike the southern weddings before the Seven.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” began Maester Bennard at once.

Lord Jonos spoke, “Y/N, of House Whytefort, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“I, Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?” spoke Lord Stark, his voice strong and unmoving.

“Jonos, of House Whytefort, Lord of Whytefort,” said Y/N’s father as he let go of her hand.

“Lady Y/N, do you take this man?” asked Maester Bennard. For but a moment, Y/N considered what it would be like to run away. She would not come far. She also wondered of the fury her father would inflict on her for ruining such a perfect match. Her mother would be heartbroken and her brother livid.

“I take this man,” spoke Y/N at last, her voice weaker than she intended. She glanced at her husband’s grey eyes for but a moment before looking away. Tears threatened to water her eyes but she forced them back.

Lord Stark unclasped Y/N's maiden’s cloak as her body tensed and replaced it with his own, one with the sigil and the colours of House Stark. The fabric weighed heavy on her shoulders but it was warm, warmer than her own cloak had been. Neither did it smell like her. Its scent reminded her of pinewood and cloves.

Y/N pulled the cloak closer to her. It is done, she thought, and somehow her chest weighed less heavy than only minutes ago. She did not know why because this was the easiest part. It was the night that frightened her. And the morrow. And every day that would follow.

The wedding feast was held in the main hall. There was no scarcity of wild boar, of venison, nor of suckling pig. There was hot bread and tarts, lemon cakes and pastries occupying every corner of every table. Wine was served, Dornish red and Arbor white. There was even hippocras. And ale by the barrel. Her father was the first to be in his cups, having begun before the wedding ceremony, and entertained his noble and less noble friends at the end of the longtable to where he changed seats from his daughter's side. Her mother sat next to Lord Stark chatting happily away with one of the ladies. There was no one for Y/N to talk to but her husband, a man she hardly knew; a man she knew not at all. She thought the night might be easier if they spoke other than just courtesies.

Y/N took a cup of Dornish red from one of the servants and drank until she felt the warmth in her cheeks.

“I remember staying at Winterfell as a child,” spoke Y/N, finding the courage in her cup. “It was just for one night but I thought it looked much smaller then.” Cregan did not know what to say. He looked at his wife, taken back by the sudden break of silence. She had not even looked him in the eye more than half a dozen times since she arrived, much less spoke to him. At first, he thought it vanity yet when he saw her in front of the Old Gods, he understood her silence did not grow from pride or arrogance but something else, a mystery.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady, but I cannot recall your time here at Winterfell. My maester, however … Given what he said of your being like as a child, I half expected you would arrive on horseback,” confessed Lord Stark, not displeased with the idea at all, yet hardly being able to imagine someone as quiet and reserved as Lady Y/N to arrive in anything less than an ornate carriage.

“Would that I could,” said Lady Y/N, finding her voice as she smiled a small smile at the thought of herself as a child. “But my father insisted I ride in the box.”

“The box?” inquired Lord Stark.

“It’s just as small, it’s wooden, and it’s as uncomfortable as anything. I’d be more comfortable riding on top of a cabbage cart,” said Lady Y/N earnestly, her voice quiet, but Cregan let out a warm, hearty laugh. Lady Y/N turned to him, drawn to the sound of his laughter, which even made her smile. She dared look at him properly for the first time since they met that afternoon. He looked like as a Stark as any: dark brown hair, a somewhat elongated face, and grey eyes, which suddenly seemed a lot warmer to her than the stone cold one's she saw that afternoon. She already knew he was tall but now that he had removed his heavy cloak, she saw the rest of his body too. His shoulders were wide and his chest strong beneath the metal sigil of the wolf clasped where his collarbones would meet. He must have shaven clean in the morning but Y/N could see there were hints of stubble protruding from his strong jaw. His hands were strong and muscular; strong enough to wield that inconceivably large sword belonging to his house, Ice. The thought suddenly frightened her. Her father never raised a hand to her but his raising a hand to her mother was hardly a rare occurrence.

The smile disappeared from Y/N’s lips as she looked at her hands resting at the edge of the table. She reached for her cup and drained what little was left in it. Lord Stark must have noticed the change in her mood.

“I understand Winterfell must seem daunting, my lady,” he spoke sincerely. “I got lost here countless of times myself as a child, and I was born here.” Lord Stark spoke with a warm northern accent. Y/N gazed around the room and nodded. Not because she agreed but because she could not make herself say anything else. She paused.

“It is not the castle that frightens me,” Y/N spoke out of the sudden, regretting it the moment the words flew out of her mouth. Wine be damned.

“What then, my lady?” asked Cregan without thinking. Lady Y/N smiled to herself as she glanced down at her hands before raising her gaze to him. She looked into his eyes but for a brief moment although it seemed to him to last a century at least. Her lips parted gently but no words passed them. Lady Y/N gave him a small, reassuring smile. She looked away and helped herself to a small lemon cake that she did not finish not even by the end of the night. But it was then in her smile that the Lord of Winterfell realized the mystery of his bride’s silence – fear, not of Winterfell itself, but of him. And she hid it so well. There was an air of assuredness and confidence about her, the way she moved and spoke, even if only with her eyes. But underneath it all, Y/N found herself feeling more vulnerable than ever.

As Cregan was about to speak to his wife, Lord Jonos bid her to dance as was customary of the father of the bride. If he hand not been in his cups, he might have been a half decent dancer. Lady Y/N, however, was as graceful a dancer as any. Her creamy white skirts seemed to become one with her body as she stepped and turned to the beat of the waltz. As the song came to an end, Lord Jonos coughed from fatigue as he stumbled back to his company, leaving his daughter alone in the middle of the hall. He considered his obligations at this wedding met and returned back to the feast. As Y/N was to return to the high table on her own, a warm hand caught hers. She looked up and found herself face to face with her husband, the great Lord of Winterfell. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise but there was no time to hesitate as the music already began to play. She moved to the beat of the music, noticing how everyone was staring at them as they became the centre of attention.

“I didn’t think you dance, my lord,” said Y/N, hardly being able to look up into her husband’s eyes. The older she got, the less desire she had to look people in the eyes.

The Lord of Winterfell seemed much more a man suited to the battlefield rather than the cobblestones of a dancecourt. He was too tall and too broad in the shoulders to dance as elegantly as any singer could, nevertheless, he was sure of step and held a strong frame.

“I don’t,” said Lord Stark as their arms locked in a figure that demanded a turn. Y/N looked at him.

“Then why …” she wondered out loud before she could stop herself.

“Because you are the Lady of Winterfell,” said Lord Stark unemotionally as the dance slowly came to an end. “And your father is a wretched fool,” he spoke with distaste just before the music quietened. Lady Y/N stared at her lord husband as he kissed the top of her fingers and escorted her back to the high table where they sat together.

“Thank you,” she spoke gratefully, so used to her lord father forgetting his manners when he was in his cups, or sober for that matter, that the gallantry of Lord Stark seemed as strange to her as the sun rising at dusk. The tone of the Lord of Winterfell's voice, however, made her uneasy.

“There is nothing to thank, my lady,” said Lord Stark, his ice-cold voice melting some.

“It is to me, my lord.” Y/N had some more of that lemon cake for she could feel the Dornish red mingle with her blood far more intensely than she had intended. She had been travelling all day and had been on the road for near half a moon. The wine stuck to her as easily as mud to boots on a rainy day.

As the guests, Lord Jonos' group of primitive nobles in particular, suddenly began shouting “BEDDING! BEDDING! BEDDING!” in unison, Y/N flinched, her hand colliding against Lord Stark’s arm as her eyes widened. She had asked her father not to do this, not to encourage this ribald practice, and he agreed. He even gave her his word. In his cups however, Lord Jonos had no recollection of making his daughter such a promise.

Y/N’s stomach twisted into knots as she grew sick with anxiety when she saw the guest approach her with their greedy hands.

The Lord of Winterfell stood up, towering over most any man in the hall. His grey eyes turned as cold as stone as his brows furrowed into a formidable frown. The music stopped and guests settled down to hear what the Warden of the North had to say.

“I would not draw a sword at anyone on my wedding day, my lords,” spoke Lord Stark in a loud, solemn voice. The bawdy smiles of the wedding guests drained from their mouths. Y/N looked up at her husband, her own lips parting. Her heart was beating so wildly, she thought it might jump from her chest.

“Least of all at my father-in-law,” said Lord Stark with ice in his voice as he looked Lord Whytefort, who stood at the head of the ribald guests, straight in the eye. Lord Jonos clenched his jaw, slowly blinking his blood-shot eyes.

“As you wish,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s your wedding night, my lord.” Lord Jonos grasped his cup, having to lean against the high table to steady himself as he drank. Lord Stark glared at the singers who began to play once again immediately. The guests returned to their cups and cakes grumbling as Lord Cregan took Y/N’s hand as the feast continued without them.

Lady Y/N’s face was flushed with fever, her body tense like a bowstring. Lord Stark held her hand tightly as he led her through the hallways of Winterfell. His step was much longer and faster than hers for she struggled to keep up. As she skipped a step, Lord Stark realized how fast he was walking fuelled by fury. He stopped and took a moment to look at his wife. Lady Y/N’s chest was rising and falling quickly, the skin on her cheeks and neck flushed with heat. Her lips were parted and her eyes big and deep as pools.

“Forgive me, my lady,” said Lord Cregan and kissed her hand, holding it more gently as he calmed his anger. Her fingers disappeared in his large, calloused hand, engulfed by the warmth of his touch.

“Whatever for?” breathed Lady Y/N. I should be on my knees with gratitude, she thought to herself. Because of everything that had just happened – or might have happened. If the bedding had taken place, her clothes would be stripped from her body as the male guests would carry her to her wedding chambers, most likely groping at her body and sometimes even waiting outside the door to ensure the marriage was truly consummated.

“I …” began Lady Y/N, trying to find the words to express all the things she was feeling: the gratitude, the fear, the confusion … But before she could gather her thoughts into words, Lord Cregan cupped her Lady Y/N's face with his large hands, the thumb of his hand brushing across the corner of her lips. Goose pimples rose on her arms as he leaned down some, his grey eyes shifting between her lips and her eyes. Cregan leaned in and kissed his lady wife. The loose strands of his long hair grazed against Lady Y/N’s forehead as she responded instinctively to Lord Cregan’s touch. All the fear she felt beforehand melted from her as her hands gently leaned against Lord Stark’s broad torso. Y/N pulled away slowly but Lord Cregan leaned in once again and found her lips. The fingers of his right hand caught in her hair as they reached further, supporting her neck and jaw. The skin of her entire body tingled with fever as Lord Cregan broke the kiss hesitantly, his hand finding hers once again.

“Come,” asked Lord Stark, his voice quiet and hoarse. He led her up the stairs, some wider then others, taking turns that Y/N could not memorize even if she tried. Her body was trembling with expectation, a mixture of fear of the unknown creeping in as well as Lord Stark pushed open a great oaken door that led to his private chambers. The fire crackled in the hearth as the snow grew stronger outside the windows of Winterfell. The chambers were near as vast as the main hall split in half with its own table laden with cheese, fruit, and wine, and flowers and candles for light. There was the chambers' own dressing area and a private privy that belonged to the apartments as well. There were painted chests, ottomans, and chairs and great, ornate tapestries with scenes of hunting, the godswood, and the red and white heart tree. Opposite of the hearth was the bed with a vast feathered mattress, soft pillows, and furs for warmth.

“Some wine?” asked Lord Stark distractedly as he turned to look at his wife. His eyes were a daze of grey clouds.

“No,” said Lady Y/N quietly and shook her head. A loud bang erupted from the courtyard beneath the tower with Lord Cregan’s private chambers. Y/N winced, her eyes wide as they darted towards the window of painted glass. Lord Cregan frowned when Lady Y/N squeezed his hand and her focus shifted.

“Nothing to fear, my lady” said Lord Stark in a quiet, reassuring voice. “They are only celebrating.”

Y/N nodded to herself, “Of course.”

Cregan gently tugged on Lady Y/N's hand, bringing her closer to him. Breath caught in the back of Y/N’s throat as he towered over her, his nose brushing against hers before he kissed her lips. Her hands rested against his chest as his locked around her waist. Lord Cregan pulled on the strings of her wedding dress, releasing the bow that held the topmost layer of the gown in place. The fabric loosened around Y/N’s chest before Cregan tugged on the open wings of the back of the dress and exposed her shoulders. He left soft yet hungry kisses along her neck as his hands found the hem of her skirt. Cregan pulled the bottom of Y/N’s gown past her hips and knelt. He kissed her stomach never minding the chemise as he blindly found the strings of Y/N’s corset and pulled it apart. The fragrance of her skin, of cloves and orange blossom, urged him on as he rose and began unbuckling his leather jerkin that bore the metal sigil of House Stark. Y/N helped Cregan with the strings of his tunic as best as she could as her fingers were still a trembling mess. Y/N was no longer afraid like she expected it. Her instincts prevailed and she was surprised at herself how much she wanted it. How much she wanted him, the Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan pulled his tunic over his head, allowing for his strong, muscular body to be observed. Perhaps it was the wine or some new found courage but Y/N softly pushed Lord Stark towards the bed where he sat down. They were almost at a height now. Cregan’s hands slid from her upper back to her hips where they settled securely, pulling her to his lap without ever detaching his lips from hers. He reached for the hem of her silken chemise and pulled it over her head. In nothing but her stockings, Y/N helped Cregan undo his breeches as he kicked off his shoes absently, his lips tracing the line from her neck to her chest.

“Gods,” Cregan murmured against her hot skin, his voice as hoarse as broken glass. He left soft, hungry bites and kisses along her breasts as his hands gripped onto her hips securely. He laid Y/N on the bed and quickly pulled off his breeches before his lips found the one place he felt they belonged: between his wife’s soft, creamy thighs.

Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into the furs and linen. She closed her eyes and forgot to breathe as her toes curled in pleasure. When a soft whimper escaped her lips, Y/N’s cheeks flushed redder still but Cregan did not seem to mind. Rather his arms wrapped even tighter around his wife’s thighs as his kisses were fuelled with insatiable hunger. A mass of heat began forming in Y/N’s abdomen, the tension in her body growing higher and higher. She tried to contain her moans but could not help herself. The pressure dispersed from her body as she remembered to breathe and she breathe heavily. Y/N’s eyes closed involuntarily as one of her arms rested across her forehead. For a moment, she was both lost and found, at peace and in chaos.

“S-Stop …” Y/N managed a small stutter as Cregan thought to continue. “Please …” she begged. Cregan did as she asked, leaving one last kiss on the inside of her thigh as he rose. His face was flushed and his eyes as striking grey as a lightning sky. Y/N’s breathing slowly calmed and she opened her eyes, coming down from her high. Cregan was leaning on his elbow beside her, patiently watching her recover. He leaned in carefully and waited for her to tell him to stop but she did not. She responded instead with a kiss, a hungry kiss with which she vowed to repay the pleasure he had made her feel, a pleasure she had not expected.

Cregan pulled her body closer, wrapping Y/N’s thighs around his hips after he pulled off her silken stockings. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as he entered her, his eyes closing in pleasure as his eyebrows furrowed into a heavy frown. He moved slowly at first, evenly. Then his body began moving faster and more desperately. Cregan’s hands roamed Y/N’s body until he had to steady himself against the headboard, feeling himself nearing to his climax. A moan of pleasure caught in Cregan’s throat as he leaned his forehead against Y/N’s, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Y/N’s hands rested on Cregan’s broad back, his head on her chest. She was breathing heavily as well as two fat tears escaped her eyes. A pool of emotion bubbled inside of her whilst she observed the carved wooden ceiling but not really seeing it, only once again beginning to feel the weight of her life and her duty. She was to make her husband happy. Is he happy, she wondered. Is he pleased? Do I please him?

Another loud bang boomed from the courtyard. Y/N gasped in spite of herself, her body wincing involuntarily. Cregan tensed with her in his arms. He glanced up before he rose once again, leaning against his arms. He looked into Y/N’s eyes but she still could not hold contact for longer than a moment.

“It’s alright,” he spoke once more. “You’re safe, my lady,” said Cregan quietly before pressing a soft kiss on Y/N’s lips, then another on her forehead. Y/N nodded before Cragan leaned on his side and pulled her closer. She rested her head in the nook between her husband’s shoulder and his chest. He pulled one of her legs across his thigh where he rested his hand beneath her hip, drawing soft circles into her skin. In spite of it all, Y/N could not relax. Her body was tense once more, her mind rushing with thoughts of apprehension and self-doubt, even shame. She was a woman wed; it was her duty to give her husband children. What made her feel shame was that she had enjoyed it so.

***

Y/N’s eyes opened when the morning broke, startled by the unknown surroundings. She did not move as she looked around, the memories of last night, only a few hours ago in truth, came back to her. For the hour or two that she managed to close her eyes, Y/N was consumed with a kind of sleep that made one wake up more exhausted than one went to bed. Thoughts and memories of the day past rushed and disfigured in her mind when she slept. Y/N’s chest rose heavily as she looked at Lord Stark lying beside her. He was sleeping on his front, his broad, bare back moving gently with his breathing as he was sound asleep. Y/N was suddenly aware of her nakedness, the recollections of last night made her cheeks flush with shame once more. The wine had made her bolder than she ever would have dared on her own.

Lady Y/N left the bed quietly and slipped on her chemise. Although there was hardly any fire left, only burning embers, the chambers had not grown cold. The walls of Winterfell were built in a way that allowed the hot spring water to rush within them and keep the castle warm.  

Y/N glanced over her shoulders, seeing her husband sound asleep. She carefully walked the heavy wooden floors to the dressing area yet none of her things have been brought up yet. There was only a basin and a pitcher. Y/N took one of the soft cloths folded on the washstand and poured some water over the fabric. She washed herself not realizing her thighs were not only painted with her husband’s seed but also her blood. Rosy red stains appeared on the soft white cloth. Y/N could not recall feeling any pain, not any that would disturb her. But there was still blood.

“My lady?” asked Lord Stark. Y/N gasped as she jumped around, clutching the cloth in her hand as the other went over her heart. Cregan’s voice was gentle and quiet but it startled her nevertheless in the hour of the nightingale.

Y/N curtsied instinctively. Her face grew hot at the sight of her husband’s bare chest although he was wearing smallclothes.

“Are you alright?” asked Lord Stark, his eyebrows locked together into a frown.

Lady Y/N nodded. “It’s just … Sleep evades me, my lord,” she spoke, avoiding her husband’s storm grey eyes. Y/N felt exposed in only her chemise although Lord Stark had seen her nakedness and more but hours ago.

“Cregan,” corrected Lord Stark as he took the cloth from her hand. He brushed away a small remain of blood from her calf before standing up. Y/N nodded although she could not make herself say his name out loud. It felt odd to even consider calling the Warden of the North by his first name.

“Are you feeling well?” asked Lord Stark once again, his voice more solemn than before. “Are you … hurt in any way?”

Y/N realized what he was asking. “I’m alright, my—”Lord lingered on Y/N’s tongue as she stopped herself in time. Lord Stark’s stone hard eyes lingered on his wife a moment longer, studying her features. She could not have lied to him even if she wanted to under his formidable gaze.

Cregan nodded to himself and asked her back to bed. It would be hours before anyone other than the smallfolk would consider breaking their fast after the night of festivities. There was no need for the Lord of Winterfell to jump to his duties at the crack of dawn as he normally would, not on this day. Yet it was obvious that neither him nor his wife would find any more sleep that morrow.

It became clear to Y/N that moments of desire and the rest of life were two separate ordeals. One’s courage when powered by lust dwindled in the face of achieving the intimacy of a comfortable silence. Y/N did not know what to say or how to navigate the quietness that settled between herself and her lord husband. She was lying on her side, facing away from him when he spoke.

“Your belongings will be brought up in the morning,” said Lord Stark absent-mindedly. “I was told your new handmaids and ladies-in-waiting were also chosen for you in terms of the seniority of rank …”

Y/N turned on her back, her eyes searching the ceiling. “Alright,” she whispered almost soundlessly. She came to realize once more how drastically her life would change, how it already changed. The people she knew, the persons who had formed part of her every day would suddenly be replaced by strangers she had never met before. Her private rooms were no longer hers but ones she shared with her husband. Y/N shut her eyes tightly and paced her breathing. Tears forced into her eyes but she pushed them away.

“You … You are going hunting today?” asked Y/N to stir her thoughts in another direction. Her lord father boastedabout going on a hunt in the Wolfswood with the Lord of Winterfell in the honour of his daughter’s wedding.

“Am I?” asked Lord Stark. The tone of his voice sounded displeased but Lady Y/N could not be sure. She looked at him.

“I only thought … I heard …” she tried to explain but could not find the words that would not expose her father. The stone in Cregan’s eyes softened some when he saw the fear returning to his wife’s beautiful features although she tried to mask it.

“If Lord Jonos wishes a hunt in the Wolfswood, I will not deny him,” said Cregan absently. He was in no mind to entertain his father-in-law any more than duty commanded of him. The Lord of Winterfell had no taste for arrogance, particularly not one that mingled in one as selfish as he was covetous.

“Ser Duncan Greycliff can take him. He is the master huntsman,” spoke Lord Stark somberly.

“You do not have a taste for hunting?” asked Lady Y/N in an attempt to get to know her husband although she could almost hear him thinking “I do not have a taste for your father.”

“I do,” said Lord Stark instead. “But I prefer swordplay and horse riding.”

“So do I,” said Y/N more to herself than to her husband. “Horse riding, I mean.” She had tried herself at swordplay once as a girl. The sword was hardly a dagger compared to Ice yet it weighed so heavy in her hands that she cut her leg the first swing she took. The blade did not cut through the fabric of her brother’s breeches that she wore but it still parted her flesh on the side of her knee. Her father never learned of it as Y/N’s lady mother made her swear she would not speak of it or else it would not bode well for either of them. The maester bandaged her injured leg and she would never touch a sword again.

“Horse riding then,” decided Lord Stark. He had a scarcity of engagements to attend to that day, still being his wedding day in a way. “We should set off after breaking our fast. The snowing may grow stronger again later in the day. You have a horse with you I take it, my lady?” asked Lord Stark. A true rider never parts from their preferred mount.

“I wanted to bring my mare, Blackspur,” said Y/N as she nodded. “But my father … He said my husband has wealth enough to buy me a horse if I want one,” confessed Y/N. A cluster of anxiety gathered in her throat at the thought of leaving her mare behind. She had her since she was a child. And even if Blackspur had already been past her days as a filly then, she was one of the fastest horses in her father’s stables.

Y/N shook her head and smiled to herself. “Little does he know I asked my cousin to ride her here,” said Y/N, turning her gaze to her husband. “He never even noticed,” her smile grew wider. “So I would only ask for a place in the stables for her.”

Slowly Y/N looked away. Asking anything of her husband, a man she had known for a day, brought her discomfort and shame. She was raised never to ask for anything.

“I will have them build an entire stable for her if that is your wish, my lady,” said Lord Cregan. Y/N could not help but laugh as butterflies awoke in her stomach although there was no doubt in her husband’s voice that he would truly do so. He smiled nevertheless at the sound of her small but bright laughter.

“A stall will do, my lord,” said Y/N as the smile lingered on her lips. Cregan pulled her closer by the waist, Y/N’s back arching against his touch. Their faces were but inches apart as Lord Stark leaned in slowly, his gaze focused on his wife’s soft lips. She was the opposite of everything he had expected from a daughter of a man like Jonos Whytefort.

The heat of Lord Stark's body made Y/N’s arms cover in goose pimples. There was not a hint of Dornish red left in her veins yet Y/N leaned in herself, her hand resting on her husband’s cheek as her lips met his. A soft, almost soundless whimper escaped her mouth as Cregan pulled her closer, his strong grip secured on her body. As his hand reached beneath Y/N’s chemise, there was a knock on the door.

“For Gods’ sake,” growled Cregan, his voice rumbling from his chest. He glared at the door. “Not now!” he called and returned his attention to his wife. The smell of her skin drove him mad with desire, the feel of her soft curves, her gentle touch on his body. He had not imagined it would be so. Cregan Stark was used to perform his duty in all matters and he believed this marriage would be no exception. Little did he expect duty to taste so sweet.

There was another, more persistent knock on the door. “I said NOT NOW!” the Lord of Winterfell rose his voice to a formidable boom. Y/N’s body grew tense in Cregan’s arms, his eyes darting back to her. But before he could speak, another, more familiar voice came from outside his chambers.

“Forgive me, my lord. The matter is of great importance,” sounded Maester Bennard’s voice.

“Gods be damned,” muttered Lord Stark in frustration and fell back into bed. His eyes shut tight for a moment as he gathered his calm. Cregan sat up and pulled on his breeches and tunic in an attempt to conceal the evidence of passion. He opened the door where Maester Bennard awaited. Y/N pulled the linens closer to her body although the bed was hidden from the door’s view. The maester spoke quietly and she could not hear what was said. But there was one word she unmistakably caught – wildlings.

The ladies-in-waiting presented themselves after Lord Stark rushed to Rodrick’s Tower to speak with his lords and advisors. Lady Y/N’s belongings were brought to her chambers along with the wedding gifts of the nobles who attended the marriage celebration. Lady Y/N was helped into a gown of sage green embroidered with string-of-silver. She was asked of her preferences and of her well-being while the servants changed the bed linens and cleared the table with food. One of the ladies-in-waiting, Helaena or Harriett Dustin or Umber, fastened a necklace of white gold and deep green emeralds, which Y/N received from her mother on her sixteenth name day, around her neck. Y/N traced the jewellery with the tips of her fingers, her chest growing tight with pain. She would have to say her fare wells to her mother and to her brother after her lord father returns from the hunt. She will have no one left from her old life, save for her mare Blackspur.

“The breaking of fast will take place in the main hall today, m’lady,” informed one of the servants. She curtsied as best as she could before Y/N’s ladies-in-waiting escorted their Lady of Winterfell to the main hall. The women were kind enough yet unfortunately they were all perfect strangers to Y/N.

The way around the enormous castle that was Winterfell presented itself much clearer in daylight than it did in the hour of the wolf although they remained quite confusing still.

The guests rose as Lady Y/N entered the main hall, her eyes growing wide as she glanced behind her. They rose for her. She was but a young lady of an insignificant house no longer than a day ago. Sometimes people did not even bother to curtsy to Y/N when she was not in the company of her lord father and now an entire hall of noblemen and women stood at her presence.

Y/N sat down at the high table next to a grand, ornate seat reserved for the Lord of Winterfell. Wolves were carved into the handles of the seat, the sigil of House Stark showing off proudly from the top of the back rest. Y/N’s own seat was carved in the same fashion only slightly smaller in size. She sat, allowing for everyone else to do the same. Her cheeks flushed pink as Y/N became acutely aware of everyone staring at her. She knew what they were thinking behind their bawdy grins and hidden whispers, and it cost her her appetite.

One of the serving girls poured her some warm honeyed wine which Y/N gladly accepted. She glanced at the empty seat beside her once again. The seating was different than at the feast. Many of the guests were missing, doubtlessly still asleep. Y/N noticed her lady mother, however, speaking to who seemed to be Lady Hornwood. When Lady Whytefort’s eyes met her daughter’s, she gave a warm, encouraging smile, which reassured Y/N some.

“Is the food not to my lady’s liking?” asked Y/N’s lady-in-waiting, Daela Manderly, the most senior in rank and the one who earned her seat beside the Lady of Winterfell at the high table. She was a girl of seven-and-ten, not much younger than Y/N herself. Lady Daela was tall with long red hair of House Tully after her lady mother.

“I do not have much of an appetite,” confessed Y/N but forced herself to have something at least.

“Are you well, my lady?” asked Lady Daela with great concern. She even went as far as to take Lady Y/N’s hand. Y/N was not accustomed to people touching her, not even Saera who she had practically grown up with. The only person Y/N welcomed touch from was her lady mother. Nevertheless, it was not so much Lady Daela holding her hand that brought Y/N discomfort. Rather, that she was asking on the account of the passing night being Y/N’s wedding night.

“I’m alright,” assured Y/N as she helped herself to a slice of white wheat bread and some butter. She reached for the jar which smelled of sweet blackcurrant and raspberries, spreading some of its contents across her buttered bread.

“Is breakfast usually held elsewhere?” asked Y/N, earning a puzzled look from Lady Daela. “The servant said that we will break fast in the main hall today.”

“Oh,” said Lady Daela. “There is a smaller hall. It is warmer there but Lord Stark often breaks his fast in his solar with Maester Bennard when Winterfell is not host to noble guests. The ladies and myself usually eat in our chambers,” the lady-in-waiting explained.

Suddenly, the people of the main hall rose as did Y/N herself even before she could even see the Lord of Winterfell enter the hall. The last time she saw him that morning he was in his wedding breeches, his white tunic hanging loosely from his shoulders. He had a change of garments since and a clean shave, his long dark hair combed neatly.

Lord Cregan took his seat at the high table, letting the bountiful breakfast to continue.

“Good morrow,” said Y/N gently, unable to explain the reassurance she felt at her husband’s presence. Suddenly, she felt like no one was looking at her at all anymore.

Lord Cregan’s gaze found hers, his stormy eyes raging with thoughts. A dark, solemn expression rested on his already formidable features that Y/N had not noticed when he sat down beside her.

“Good morrow,” spoke Lord Stark nevertheless while he helped himself to eggs, cooked ham as well as bacon and half a dozen slices of rye bread.

Y/N felt as if she somehow misspoke yet she could not have; she only greeted her husband. For a moment, Y/N contemplated it might be Lord Cregan prefers quiet in the mornings since he often eats alone. Yet as Lady Daela claimed he sometimes shared his meal with Maester Bennard so that could not have been the answer. Something must have happened when he was called away that morning.

“Is everything alright, my lord?” asked Y/N carefully as if she were threading on ice. Her voice was soft and discrete as she leaned in ever so slightly. Although they had spent the night together, Y/N did not know Cregan Stark in the least.

Lord Stark stopped his eating, his brows forming into a small frown as he looked at his wife. Y/N thought terribly for a moment, expecting he might throw a plate at her as she had often seen her own father do. Instead, Lord Stark's gaze flickered between Y/N’s big eyes that waited patiently for his reply. She looked away when he did not say anything, focusing on the food in front of her instead before she glanced around the room. Her father would have announced it is none of her business if it had been him she were asking. That or worse.

“Everything is alright, my lady,” said Cregan out of the sudden, interrupting Lady Y/N chain of horrible thoughts. “We will talk of it later,” he added as their eyes met once again to which Y/N could only manage a nod.

After their broke their fast, Y/N changed into her riding gear. She had her father’s castle tailor make her gowns that could be parted and worn with riding breeches underneath and that were able to fit a proper saddle. Y/N picked out a garment of dark blue, brown leather gloves and a fur cloak. The cold winter breeze and the nightly snow made it less than ideal for a nice, long ride yet Y/N could not wait to get out of the castle. She had arrived to the stables before her husband where Blackspur was already waiting for her.

“Hey,” soothed Y/N gently as she glided her gloved palm across the mare’s neck. Her coat was as black as pitch save for the white boots on the three of her four legs. The horse responded to her mistress’ presence, nudging her great big head in her direction.

“Shh …” Y/N leaned her face against Blackspur’s back and caressed her quivering body. For a moment, she could feel the weight of the world storm down on her. For a moment, Y/N’s eyes filled with tears and disappeared in her mare’s coat just as soon as they appeared.

Footsteps approached from the other end of the stall. Y/N wiped away what traces of tears had remained on her face as she patted Blackspur and took a deep breath. The presence that appeared at the stall’s entrance was Lord Stark himself. He did not say anything for a moment. Cregan’s eyes moved across his wife’s attire, never having seen anything like it. Another man appeared behind him, one of the stableboys, offering to saddle Lady Y/N’s horse.

“That’s alright. I will to do it myself,” said Y/N, stroking Blackspur’s neck. The stableboy did not know what to do at such a request from a lady, his small blue eyes flickering between the Lord of Winterfell and his lady wife. Y/N realized they had been staring and she herself froze as her lips parted.

“If I may, my lord,” she spoke much less assuredly, lowering her eyes from her husband and to her beautiful horse whom she caressed still.

“Of course,” said Lord Stark. “Benjin, fetch a saddle for Lady Stark.” Y/N froze at the sound of her new title coming out of her husband’s mouth. She felt like a pretender when she thought it herself. The words coming out of the mouth of the Lord of Winterfell however, carved them into stone.

Lord Stark joined Y/N in the stall, running a hand along Blackspur’s neck himself. The horse shifted at the presence and touch of a stranger.

“Don’t stand too close to her face. She might bite at you,” said Y/N’s arm instinctively stretched past her husband’s body as if to protect him. “She is wary of people she does not know.”

Cregan glanced at his wife’s hand and took it but also stepped back with her as Y/N warned. Her face grew warm when she realized she had tried to ‘protect’ the Lord of Winterfell, who stood even a few inches taller than Blackspur.

“She is a lot like my wife it would seem,” said Lord Stark and closed the space between them. Breath caught in the back of Y/N’s throat as her husband’s lips brushed against hers, seeping into a deep, hungry kiss, when the sound of the stableboy’s returning footsteps filled the silence.

“Gods be damned,” cursed Lord Stark as he pulled away from his wife’s soft lips. Lady Y/N could not help but smile. She took Blackspur from her stall where she could saddle and prepare her for the ride.

Once she was in her saddle, Y/N felt like herself again. The sense of freedom returned to her even if but for a moment. The northern wind swept through her long hair as she gave her restless mare a turn around the courtyard by the Hunter's Gate.

Lord Stark rode a deep brown courser with mane as black as night, hence the name Nightkeeper. The Lord and Lady of Winterfell rode out together, taking no escort as they roamed the snow peppered grounds surrounding the mighty castle. They passed the winter town on their way through the main castle gates. Its houses were mostly empty still but as the winter approached, more and more people would return to stay once again beneath the walls of Winterfell.

The horses picked up their pace when they reached the open fields. Lady Y/N could not hide the smile growing on her lips when fresh air filled her lungs and her breathing became faster.

“Forgive my prying, my lord, but—”

“Cregan,” said Lord Stark. Y/N looked at him. “You need not call me ‘my lord’ when we are alone,” he said once again.

“I fear it may take me some time to get used to that,” confessed Lady Y/N, offering a small smile. The Lord of Winterfell smiled in turn as they steered their mounts up a field path west.

“About this morning,” said Y/N more carefully, “The important matter that needed your attention …”

Lord Stark nodded, his features growing somber. “A growing party of wildlings gathers just north of the Last Hearth,” he explained. “There was a letter in the night from Lord Umber urging we send men north.”

Y/N listened patiently, nodding to herself.

“I will have to ride out soon,” said Lord Stark. “With your father’s host of warriors joining us, we stand a good chance at pushing the wildlings beyond the Wall for good. Or at least for a good many years.”

Y/N’s heart grew heavy. Once her family and her handmaidens leave Winterfell, she will have no one for company but her husband. And Blackspur. Lord Cregan did not count much yet since Y/N was unsure as yet how much she could confide in him as a friend rather than her lord and husband.

“When do you expect to leave?” asked Y/N, even her words growing heavy as she considered being left completely alone at Winterfell.

“In half a moon’s turn,” said Lord Stark gravely. “Sooner if we can gather the men.”

Y/N nodded.

“It will be enough for you to get used to your duties as the Lady of Winterfell. You will rule in my stead when I leave for the north, of course,” said Lord Stark. His voice was laced with thick northern accent.

Y/N’s chest gave a squeeze as she suddenly realized the weight of her responsibilities. Her own lady mother often deputized for Lord Jonos when he was away yet governing over Whytefort could not be compared to ruling Winterfell, much less the North. For the first time since Y/N learned of the marriage alliance between herself and Lord Stark, she could truly feel the weight of duty of her new home rather then her childhood one.

Y/N looked at her husband. He had been the Lord of Winterfell since he came of age at six-and-ten and lost his parents three years prior to succeeding his father’s seat as the Warden of the North. She could not imagine the heavy weight that rested on Lord Cregan’s shoulders nor how he managed to carry it so well; how he made it seem so effortless and natural.

Cregan caught Y/N staring. She looked away quickly and made Blackspur pick up her pace as she gently nudged her belly. Lord Stark did the same and matched her speed, both of the horses shifting from a trot to an easy gallop. Y/N raced her mare up the nearby hill, having Blackspur come to a halt where the view was best. Y/N took in the scenery as she paced her breathing. The fields were neither green nor covered in snow, towered by the mighty grey castle that was Winterfell. From this distance, the castle could fit in the palm of Y/N’s hand. There was forest too as far as the eye could see; dark pines standing strong whilst the summer trees were slowly but surely dropping leaves.

“It is all yours,” said Lord Cregan not without pride when he saw Lady Y/N staring.

Y/N licked her cold-dry lips. I don’t want it, she wished to say. It was too large, too vast, and too many people depended on it; depended on her. Yet for better or for worse she was the Lady of Winterfell. The duty was hers to bear.

“Mayhaps we should go back,” suggested Y/N quietly. “The winds are growing colder.”

“Winter is coming,” agreed Lord Stark as he turned his courser around.

They spent the majority of the ride back in silence yet Y/N could feel her husband’s eyes burn into her for the near entirety of the way. She could not make herself look back at him nor ask about his thoughts. Y/N had spent her entire life as an insignificant lady of an insignificant house leading an insignificant life. She knew her place among the noble lords and ladies – it meant she was to be invisible, quiet, and respectful; never looking them in the eye for too long, never speaking out of turn.

“My lord,” called Maester Bennard as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell returned from their ride. The old maester was waiting for them in the courtyard by the Hunter's Gate, holding a scroll of parchment. “A quick word. Another raven arrived following the one of the morrow.”

Lord Stark dismounted as one of the stablemen took his horse. He stepped away with Maester Bannard whilst Lady Y/N dismounted as well. She had only been able to unsaddle her mare when a party of riders and their dogs entered the courtyard. The lords had gone hunting as per Lord Jonos’ request although the time of day was less than ideal. Nevertheless, Y/N spotted that a wild boar had been the result of their labour in Wolfswood.

“What is that beast doing here?” shouted Lord Jonos when his bright blue eyes saw his daughter’s mare; the one that he had gifted her on her ninth name day. His voice caught the attention of the entire inner courtyard, including Daeron Whytefort, who took part in the hunt. Lady Y/N jumped around, her heart in her throat.

“I told you that nag is to stay at Whytefort!” Lord Jonos slid off his mount and stormed towards his daughter, his whip still in his hand. “You will pay for this trick!”

Lady Y/N’s heart dropped as her eyes grew wide, her back hitting against Blackspur’s side. She held her breath, unable to take her gaze off her lord father, when a man of as stout a figure as any stepped in Lord Jonos’ way. Ser Harwyn, the master-at-arms of Winterfell and a bull of a man, grabbed hold of Lord Whytefort’s whip arm.

“Threatening the Lady of Winterfell is treason and cause for death, my lord. Lord Stark will have your head for that,” warned Ser Harwyn, his grip on Y/N’s father as firm as his words as Lord Jonos tried to set free of the master-at-arms’ hold. Lady Y/N knew Lord Jonos would go for his dagger and he did.

“Don’t!” the Lady of Winterfell cried at her father as her brother could not do anything but watch.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Lord Stark.

“Nothing, my lord,” said Lady Y/N quickly though her voice was weak. The sight of Ice strapped on her lord husband’s back and Ser Harwyn's words made her stomach twist into knots.

Lord Stark turned to his master-at-arms for answers as he saw his wife’s eyes were laced with fright.

“Lord Whytefort threatened Lady Stark. I said it is treason and you will have his head for it, my lord,” Ser Harwyn glared at Lord Jonos. The master-at-arms had trained Lord Cregan at swordplay since the now Lord of Winterfell was in his swaddling clothes. His loyalty to House Stark was unwavering.

“Is this the truth of it?” Lord Stark turned to his lady wife. Y/N’s eyes were big with fear, her lips parted with surprise. She had not thought he would ask her of what had happened. Yet Lord Stark already knew Ser Harwyn’s words had the truth of it. He only wanted to see if his wife would lie to him, even if it was to protect her foolish father. Hot tears welled in Lady Y/N’s eyes.

“It is the truth, my lord,” she spoke quietly as tears stung her cold, wind-lashed cheeks. Cregan’s brows hung in a dark frown, his frame as stoic and formidable as ever. Yet something in the parting of his lips, the colour of his stone grey eyes softened as he studied his lady wife.

“She is my daughter and I forbade it!” Lord Jonos defended his actions. “I forbade that she should bring that beast to this castle,” he insisted.

The Lord of Winterfell turned to him, his cold, hard eyes finding the whip in Lord Jonos’ hand.

“She may have been your daughter yesterday, and you could do with her as you would have seen it fit then, my lord,” spoke Lord Stark, his voice growing darker by the word as he approached Lord Jonos until he towered over him with ease. “But she is my wife now – mine,” Cregan assured to his father-in-law who was as taken aback by his lord’s words as was Lady Y/N.

“I will have you leave the grounds of this castle immediately for I am no longer inclined to extend you the courtesy that no harm shall befall you as my guest,” said Lord Stark with ice in his voice. “But remember that it was you, Lord Whytefort, who forfeited that right as my guest when you threatened my wife, the Lady of Winterfell.”

Lord Stark’s cold gaze rested unblinkingly on Lord Jonos.

“Leave. From this day on you are only welcome at Winterfell at the invitation and pleasure of its lord,” Lord Stark said his final words.

Gentle snowflakes began to fall once again as the Lord of Winterfell showed Lord Jonos his back, commanding his lady wife to follow him inside the castle. Lady Y/N tried desperately for her eyes to meet that of her father but he would not look at her. Lord Jonos yanked his arm free from Ser Harwyn’s hold and spat on the floor before he commanded his men to prepare to leave at once.

Y/N hurried after Lord Stark, hardly matching his pace of long, furious strides. Once in the privacy of their castle walls, of their private chambers, Lord Stark spoke.

“If he so much as speaks another word out of turn, I will have his head,” promised Lord Stark, his voice calm and steady yet ice cold as he faced his wife, the daughter of the most insolent man he had ever had the displeasure to meet. If it had been anyone else, Lord Cregan would have had his head on a spike by then. Or better yet, have him sent to the Wall where he could externalize his impertinent arrogance to winds and snow if they would have him.

“It is my fault, forgive me, my lord,” said Lady Y/N desperately and bowed. “If I had not brought Blackspur with me, this never would have happened.” Y/N shook her head as she looked away when tears welled in her eyes. She could not believe that she had been so foolish. She should have known her father would find out and it would lead to no good.

“I do not say this to blame you, wife,” said Lord Cregan incredulous.

“But I am to blame,” said Lady Y/N. “I should have obeyed his orders.”

“If he had as much as laid a finger on you—” Lord Cregan stopped himself before he could finish his thought. He was holding Y/N by her arms, not ungently, trying to make her understand without him saying anything out loud. Lord Cregan was not a man of words, nor a poet who could sing his lines. The only thing about Lord Stark that sang was his greatsword when he swung it.

Lord Stark let go of her arms, his palms tingling with the warmth of his wife’s body. He gathered his thoughts, pushing his emotions aside.

“I have duties to attend to, my lady,” said Lord Cregan in his usual solemn manner. “And you must needs time to settle in as well. I will see you at nuncheon.”

The Lord of Winterfell left for his solar. Y/N curtsied when Lord Stark was already at the door, his back turned to her.

Y/N sat in one of the chairs by the fire overwhelmed by emotion. She contemplated everything that had happened. Her father announcing the betrothal, the journey, and the wedding ceremony. Last night and this morning, the invigorating ride and the terrible quarrel afterwards. Y/N did not know whether to laugh or cry or to scream. Everything was new and she was so very tired. Not only her mind but her body as she had only a few hours of restless sleep.

There was a knock on the door.

“Begging your pardon, my lady, but your mother, the Lady Whytefort, asks to speak to you,” said a knight of the personal guard of Lord Stark, the one assigned to the new Lady of Winterfell.

“I will see her,” said Lady Y/N almost desperately as she jumped to her feet.

“Very well, my lady,” the knight bowed.

Lady Whytefort was shown into the room, the heavy wooden door closed behind her. She wore skirts of umber red with golden-silver embroidery on the bodice. A necklace of pearls and matching earrings decorated her pale skin.

“Mama,” cried Y/N as she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother’s body. The thought of her leaving made Y/N’s heart part with white-hot pain. As a child, Y/N and Lady Whytefort were not particularly close. Yet as Y/N grew older so did her mother and their relationship not only mended but flourished. They were each other’s best friend, protector, and confidant.

“Oh, sweetling, it’s alright,” spoke Lady Whytefort but neither she could disguise the cracks in her voice. Her cheeks were wet with tears with her daughter’s arms locked around her body so tightly. Lady Whytefort caressed Y/N’s hair, unsure whether it was to comfort her or herself.

“I do not wish for your to leave,” whispered Lady Y/N for if she attempted to speak with her voice, it would surely break.

“Oh, I do not want to leave either, my sweet,” said Lady Whytefort as she pulled away, wiping the tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “But I have to. This is your home now and I have to return to mine.”

Y/N nodded in understanding although more hot tears streamed down her face.

“I will visit as soon as I can, I give you my word,” vowed Lady Whytefort.

Y/N’s chest broke with a painful sob. She began shaking her head, “Y-You cannot.” Her crying grew heavier.

“Why not, my sweet?” asked Lady Whytefort as she wiped away the tears off Y/N’s face. “You mean the quarrel between your father and Lord Stark?”

Y/N’s sobs quietened as her gaze rested on her mother’s. “W-When did … How ... How did y-you know?”

“Your brother told me when I came down to meet him after he and your father returned from their hunt,” explained Lady Whytefort unconcernedly. “Besides, I fear half the castle is talking about it,” she said, less pleased that there would be gossip in such a noble castle.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N shook her head. “How can you speak so lightly?” Her cheeks grew wet with tears once more. She shook her head, “I … I don’t know what to do.”

“You do not have to do anything, my sweet,” comforted Lady Whytefort. “I already spoke to Lord Stark—”

“What?” blurted Lady Y/N. “When?”

“Just now,” said Lady Whytefort. “I went to ask for pardon on the behest of your father but Lord Stark would not hear of it. Mayhaps if Jonos came to him himself and swallowed that foolish pride of his …” said Lady Whytefort tiredly. She had been mending her husband’s messes for years, decades even ever since they were wed.

“What am I supposed to do? And it is my fault—” cried Lady Y/N in desperation but her mother cut her off.

“Whilst the Lord of Whytefort is not welcome at Winterfell unless upon the invitation and pleasure of its lord, the same does not extend to the Lady of Whytefort,” said Lady Whytefort with a small, growing smile. “She is welcome to the hospitality of Winterfell at the Lady Stark’s wish.”

“W-What?” breathed Lady Y/N. Her heart was beating hard enough to escape her chest. “Lord Stark … Lord Stark said that to you, mother?”

“He did,” promised Lady Whytefort. “You will beg me to leave for I will be here so often.”

Y/N could not help but laugh through her tears that her mother brushed away for one last time.

"And the quarrel was never your fault, my sweet," swore Lady Whytefort. "It gladens me that you have Blackspur here with you. At least you will have something of your own ..."

“I will be leaving with your father, however,” explained Lady Whytefort. “So we best say our goodbyes now.” Y/N nodded as she locked her mother into a tight embrace. She would miss the smell of her perfume, the touch of her hands. But mostly, she will miss her voice and her company.

Y/N said her final goodbyes to her family after nuncheon, her beloved lady mother and her brother. Lord Jonos would not look at his daughter, waiting impatiently on his milk-white palfrey. As her family and the host of guests disappeared behind the castle walls, Y/N felt alone in the world. A darkness settled in her body, a sadness for Whytefort, her private chambers, the people she knew, the halls she had walked thousands of times before, a sadness for her home. Yet Winterfell was her home now.

Y/N spend the rest of the day with her ladies-in-waiting, slowly but surely remembering all of their names. Daela Manderly, Ellyn Mormont, Jocelyn Karstark, and Harryett Dustin. Y/N found Lady Ellyn the most agreeable of the lot. She was a few years Lady Stark’s senior with long hair neither brown not gold and eyes the colour of rain.

The ladies showed her the castle from the Great Hall to Benjen's Hall where the meals were usually held, the broken tower and the ladies’ quarters where they spend some time at small talk and a warm cup of mulled wine. Lady Daela was a woman of petite stature who could not handle more than a cup or two before the grape had stuck to her blood. She told a rumour about one of the ladies of the court but Y/N had no taste for it. She neither knew who the lady was nor did she have the energy to keep up with the conversation.

“If my ladies will excuse me,” said Lady Y/N and got up. The women mirrored. “I will retire to my chambers for it has been a long day,” she apologized. “Lady Mormont, if you would be as kind as to escort me.”

“Of course, my lady,” said Lady Ellyn as they left the ladies at their wine. Lady Daela seemed conflicted between her wish to be called upon the new Lady of Winterfell to accompany her to her chambers and between her thirst for more honeyed wine and leisurely whispers.

As they climbed the staircase of Rodrick’s Tower, Y/N’s thoughts drifted off to her husband. They had not spoken at all at nuncheon other than the courtesies demanded of them. Yet come supper, they will be alone and after her lord father’s outburst that morning, Lady Y/N was unsure of how she felt – of how her husband felt. Lord Stark had allowed Lady Whytefort to visit any time she wishes, yet what if he resented that she would come and ask for her husband’s forgiveness; that she would want to change his mind and question his orders. His silence to Y/N weighed terribly on her mind.

Y/N sighed heavily as they reached her private chambers.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” asked Lady Mormont.

“I hope so,” said Lady Y/N more to herself than to her lady-in-waiting. She was yet unsure how much she could trust Lady Mormont. In reality, Y/N was less than hopeful. Her mother was right when she said she had been cleaning Lord Jonos’ messes since they were wed. His difficult character and more oft than not unjustified pridefulness made life difficult not only for him but the rest of the Whyteforts. 

“May I suggest a bath, my lady?” offered Lady Ellyn, waking Y/N from her thoughts. “It might help relax you.” Y/N had not even thought about it, yet the idea of it seemed sweeter than heaven in that moment.

“That would be more than welcome, thank you,” she agreed.

“I will have the servants ready it for you, my lady,” Lady Ellyn smiled before she disappeared down the narrow corridor.

Lady Y/N entered her private chambers, making it straight to the bed. She laid down on the comfortable feathered mattress, her fingers running through the soft furs. Despite a headache forming, Y/N wondered if tonight would be the same as last night. The memories of it made her skin tingle with warmth as she battled against the feelings of guilt and shame.

The servants prepared a bath for Lady Stark to which she added some peppermint oil to help relieve her headache and relax her muscles. After the servant girls helped her strip to her undergarments, Lady Y/N asked them to leave. Although many ladies enjoyed having others wash them, Y/N cherished the silence and the solitude whilst soaking in warm water.

Y/N stripped and stepped into the bath. The water was unusually hot as it often already grew cold whilst the servants brought it up to the rooms. Y/N sunk into the fragranced water, allowing for the heat to embrace her. She had had a bath on the day of her wedding, yesterday, yet it seemed to her as if she had not had one in months. If the prospects of supper had not loomed over her, Y/N would be sure to fall asleep that very moment.

As the water grew cold, Lady Y/N washed with soap of orange and had a change of dress. She wanted to look her best. In her own way, it was a way of apologizing for starting the quarrel with her father, which lead to a falling out between the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Jonos. Lady Y/N chose a dress of dark carmine red with golden embroidery on the sleeves. She paired it with a delicate belt made of mountain blossoms of matching gold. Although the gown had long bell sleeves, it exposed the shoulders and had the bosom in the shape of a heart. It was one of Y/N’s best and favourite gowns. She wore pearl earrings in the shape of tears but allowed her hair to fall naturally.

The skirts of Lady Y/N’s gown rustled as she walked down the main staircase of Winterfell. She had her ladies-in-waiting accompanying her, all four of them walking closely behind her. When Y/N reached the bottom of the staircase, she came face to face with her husband. He must have been outside for there were snowflakes slowly melting away in his hair and his coat. Lady Y/N curtsied.

“Husband,” she spoke in a way of greeting. Her voice was stronger than she had expected although on the inside she was trembling.

Lord Stark’s mouth parted ever so slightly as he took in his lady wife’s attire. The scent of peppermint and orange blossom on her skin made his arms prickle with goose bumps.

Y/N had almost accepted that Lord Stark would not wish to speak to her when he finally uttered a curtsy.

“My lady,” said Lord Stark. He paused as if there were something on his mind yet he did not say anything.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell sat down at their high table at Benjen’s Hall where wild salmon was being served in a crust of herbs. There was warm, fresh bread, wine and ale. Yet although Lady Y/N’s plate was full, she could not find a proper appetite, not with her thoughts raging as wild as they had.  

“What is it, my lady?” asked Lord Stark, not unkindly. His face, however, held a grim frown that Y/N could not quite read. He seemed tired but not angry. “You have barely touched your food.”

“Nothing,” said Lady Y/N, wondering whether to even raise the subject at all. “I only … I only wished to thank you,” Lady Y/N managed at last. “I was able to speak with my mother, the Lady Whytefort, after she had spoken to you.”

“There is nothing to thank,” said Lord Stark, his frown softening some. “Lady Whytefort had given me no offence, neither you as far as I am aware. She is welcome at Winterfell if you wish her company.”

“I do,” said Y/N earnestly. “And I thank you for it,” she added quickly, her hand instinctively wrapping around Lord Stark’s forearm to profess how grateful she was. She soon realized what she had done and in front of other people of the court that shared their meal although no one remotely noticed in the midst of the music and the laughter.

“Forgive me,” said Lady Y/N quickly as she took back her hand. Little did she know that the Lord of Winterfell wanted nothing more but the small feast with the final guests who had yet not left to finish so that he may be alone with his wife. His mind had been drifting off to her all day. Even as Maester Bennard read him letters of more complains of the wildlings, of disputes over petty lands and water rights, Lord Cregan struggled to keep his thoughts on the matters at hand. His mind kept returning to Lady Y/N and her soft hair, the smell of her skin, the touch of her body in his arms. He remembered her smile when they went riding, the flush in her cheeks. Cregan never minded his duties as the Lord of Winterfell, he even enjoyed them sometimes. Yet that day every one of his lordly duties that impeded him from returning to his private chambers proved more tedious then ever and seemed to last an eternity.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” said Lord Stark whose forearm tingled with warmth. He focused on his meal to keep himself from throwing Lady Y/N over his shoulder and taking her to their private chambers. For a moment Lord Stark considered his wife had chosen the red gown to torture him for the falling out with Lord Jonos. Yet after Lady Y/N thanked him for giving her lady mother the hospitality of Winterfell, the Lord of Winterfell considered the gown either a way of thanking him or a plain but no less torturous coincidence. Carmine was indeed one of the colours of House Whytefort yet even so the red gown hugging Lady Y/N’s curves made Lord Stark’s body prickle with heat.

Lady Y/N returned to her meal, finally being able to think clearly. She could still notice her husband’s gaze on her yet he looked even more grim and formidable than ever.

Lady Y/N was already done eating when Lord Stark finished his meal. He washed it down with a cup of ale before he got up, done with displaying courtesy to his guests. Lady Y/N rose as well as did her ladies-in-waiting and the rest of the court. Before they could even do so properly, Lord Stark had already taken Y/N’s hand, nearly dragging her from Benjen’s Hall.

The moment the doors to their private chambers closed behind them, Cregan’s lips found Y/N’s. Y/N gasped but responded immediately. Her husband’s touch made all of her thoughts quieten down, all but one. Cregan’s fingers caught in Y/N’s hair as he guided her lips against his. His kisses were deep and hungry for more. Y/N could feel his hardness against her body, wishing desperately for him to take off his garments.

“S-Stop,” Y/N managed to say in between kisses. Lord Stark would not hear her at first. Yet once he realized what she had said and felt the push of her delicate arms against his chest, an alarm sounded in his head.

“If you are hurt …” breathed Lord Stark, the only reason that would have him control his desire.

“I am not,” whispered Y/N quickly, finding the clasps of her husband’s jerkin as she undid them. Then she pulled apart the strings of his tunic which Cregan gladly removed, encouraged by his wife’s boldness. He near tore off her exquisite red gown, unable to find the time or the patience to deal with the intricate lacing. Y/N turned around for him to undo the corset supporting her figure. A moan escaped her lips as Cregan’s hands found her breasts. He stood behind her and kissed her neck as his arms held her close. His hips moved as if there were no garments separating their bodies when a deep, raspy moan broke from his chest as Cregan found the release he had been chasing since that morning.

Y/N’s hands were locked around her husband’s strong forearms as he still held her tightly. She, like Cregan, breathed heavily still, yet a part of her wished it had not been over so quickly.

Y/N thought to take off her corset properly and get ready for bed but as she tried to unbind herself of Cregan’s embrace, he would not move.

“I am not finished yet,” Lord Stark whispered against her ear before leaving her neck bruised with ravenous kisses. He spun her around, his lips finding hers once again when his arms went beneath her bum. Y/N yelped quietly as Cregan picked her up and carried her to their bed. Her back hit the soft, warm furs as Y/N pulled him closer, eager to feel the weight of his strong body on top of hers. Cregan pulled of his stained breeches, a groan of pleasure escaping his chest as he entered his wife. Y/N gasped. She was still sore from last night although it did not cause her pain, rather pleasure. Her silken white chemise with the hem of Myrish lace left little to the imagination. The delicate fabric was rolled up to her waist and although it still covered her chest, the shape of her breasts and the colour of her nipples remained seen. Cregan’s lips went to them as his hands wrapped around her wrists. He had pulled out, leaving his wife for more. He took off her chemise, her body all to himself. He could not even imagine sharing the sight of her nakedness with anyone else should the bedding ceremony have taken place.

Moans lingered on Y/N’s mouth when Cregan left sloppy kisses down her stomach, teasing her until he found what they had both been yearning for. His arms locked around her soft thighs as he pulled her closer with ease. Y/N’s legs quivered with pleasure at the skill of Cregan’s mouth. She could no longer contain any of her cries and moans of wishing and wanting for more.

“Gods,” whimpered Y/N, raising ever so slightly before her head hit the pillows and her eyes shut in divine pleasure. Shivers ran through her entire body, her thighs shuddering. Y/N’s breathing began to slow down when she opened her sleepy eyes. Cregan kissed her softly, the taste of her lingering on his lips but she did not mind at all.

“I will be quick, I promise,” said the Lord of Winterfell, his voice low and as warm as crackling embers. Y/N did not think to reply, only allowed herself to be taken further away.

Cregan had her sit on his lap, his arms wrapped around her small back as he held her close. She hardly needed to do anything as he moved his hips eagerly, this time much more slowly. Although drowsy from her own pleasure, Y/N’s fingers tangled in Cregan’s hair, her arms secured around her husband’s shoulders. She kissed him deeply, trying to convey her gratitude for the way he made her feel. She moved against his hips, responding to his body. Cregan’s moans became more and more frequent, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown as he neared his pleasure. He held Y/N's body greedily when he groaned against the delicate skin of her neck as he reached his climax.

Cregan lied down with Y/N still tightly secured in his embrace. Their synchronised breathing slowly calmed down in the gentle silence that their private chambers provided. Fire burned in the hearth whilst it snowed outside the castle windows and Y/N scooted even closer to the warmth of her husband’s body. Her fingertips brushed against an unusual shape in Lord Cregan’s side.

Y/N opened her eyes despite herself and her dying need for sleep. She rose her head slightly. She had not noticed last night, but her husband’s torso was peppered with scars that could only be caused by swordplay or sometimes an arrow.

“You have a lot of scars,” whispered Y/N as she unintentionally voiced her thoughts. Lord Stark’s grey eyes opened slowly. He glanced down at himself.

“Just so,” he spoke easily although his voice was even deeper than normally. Cregan ran his long fingers through Y/N’s beautiful hair.

“Do they … Do any of them still hurt?” asked Y/N carefully.

“I sometimes have an ache in my shoulder," said Lord Stark absently whilst Y/N's entire focus shifted to her husband's arrow scar right beneath his collarbone.

"A wildling arrow," he explained as he saw the question forming in his wife's eyes. She nodded and looked away when his gaze found hers.

“I wish you could feel more at ease in my presence,” said Lord Stark earnestly. “There is apprehension and uncertainty in your every move when I am near. Why is it so different when we are alone?” asked Lord Stark, his eyebrows forming a frown as he stared intently at his lady wife. But Y/N did not have an answer.

“I wish I knew, my lord,” she whispered, her fingers drawing shapes in his side. "Cregan," Lady Y/N corrected herself. She looked up into her lord husband's eyes and held her gaze longer than she would. Her eyes lowered to his lips. Y/N's fingers grazed over Lord Stark's lips as she leaned in. Cregan took her hand and kissed her fingertips before their lips met for a kiss.

***

The days and weeks went by like a breeze. Every day Lady Stark would discover a new corner of the castle grounds and every day she would assist her husband in his duties, learning how to rule Winterfell. The maester instructed her in the affairs between the noble houses sworn to House Stark, yet more importantly, he told her of the ways of the lords who attended Lord Stark's councils. Y/N spoke to her husband on Maester Bennard's thoughts and found they most often concur on the characters and motives of House Stark's bannermen.

Nevertheless, the affairs of the council and the ruling were not the only things Y/N had learned in the days before the Lord of Winterfell would have to march north. Y/N learned of her husband's character. She knew that he was sometimes quick to anger but mostly a very patient man. She discovered that he was nothing like her father, who was arrogant and greedy and more oft than not an unkind man. When he trained with his men in the courtyard, Lord Stark was a strict but patient man, whose faith in his men was unrelenting. Y/N learned the little things too. She learned that he disliked lamb and parsley but would not ask the cooks to prepare something else if it was served before him. She learned that he preferred ale over wine and snow over heavy sunshine. And when they slept, Cregan would always have a part of their bodies touch - be it the hold of a hand, their legs entwined or their bodies embracing fully.

Lady Stark watched the Lord of Winterfell and his master-at-arms train the young boys in swordplay. They would not be leaving for the north with the grown men on the morrow but they are to stay and protect their families.

Y/N's chest was heavy with worry as she watched her lord husband evade one of the boys' training sword with ease. It was already growing dark outside and this would be their last night together after he would leave for what could be months. Lord Jonos' host of warriors would meet them west of the King's Road at the foot of White Knife, the lake where sprang the river of the same name.

There was a large feast for the warriors, the lords, and the commanders of tomorrow's host against the wildlings. But neither the Lord or the Lady of Winterfell stayed long. As they lied in their bed exhausted and their arms wrapped around each other, a horrible silence threatened to settle itself between them.

Cregan caressed Y/N's cheek, brushing away the hair sticking to her face. "Will you take a cup of wine?" he asked her. She shook her head against the pillow.

The bed shifted as Lord Stark got up and poured himself a cup of wine. His back was to Y/N and only then did she feel strong enough to tell him what had been burning inside of her for days.

“Cregan,” spoke Y/N. “You … You will return safely, will you not?” she spoke quietly. Lord Stark froze before he slowly set his cup on the table. He turned around and climbed back into bed, trapping Y/N beneath him as he leaned his arms on each side of her.

"Of course," Cregan assured whispering before he kissed Y/N on the lips. "It might be some time but I will return."

"You might be great with child by then," thought Cregan, a small grin hiding in the corner of his lips.

"Mayhaps," whispered Y/N. She had not thought she would ever wish for children, not truly. But it was different with Cregan. Something changed inside of her with him. The thought of bearing him a child, of having a child with his grey eyes and dark hair filled her heart with unexpected warmth.

Cregan kissed Y/N's forehead and pulled her closer, his strong arms wrapping around her gentle frame as they lied down to sleep. Y/N’s hands found their way to her husband’s back and rested there as she nestled against his bare chest. She let out a long-held breath, savouring the last night with her husband by her side in what could be months.

***

Despite the feast lasting late into the night, the host was ready in the hour of the nightingale. The pale yellow dawn broke the darkness as the Lady of Winterfell watched her husband mount his courser. Her heart was in her throat as she neared him, saying her last goodbyes.

"I will pray that you come back safely, husband," said Lady Y/N. As much as she tried to control her emotions, Y/N's eyes welled with tears. Should something happen to him in battle, this was the last time they would see each other.

Y/N handed Cregan a silken handkerchief with an eight-pointed mountain blossom embroidered in one of the corners. Cregan's brows frowned on his storm grey eyes. His heart had never been felt this heavy leaving Winterfell. He was always battle-hungry and unremitting in defending the name of his house on the battlefield.

The Lord of Winterfell looked around at his men who were already riding out. He cursed them all as he leaned down in his saddle and took his wife's chin in his hand. He kissed her ardently and spoke the words 'I love you' before she watched him ride out into the northern winds.

PART 2

[cdragons]

hiii i see you lurking :3 miss u love u muah muah muah!!!!

I don't know what you're talking about, my love O//W//O, but please enjoy this little drabble dedicated to another one of our brainchild. Happy 1K followers, my love! It's been so wonderful to see how much your blog has grown and it brings me so much joy to know that others see what an incredible writer you are.

"It's not fair!" Sansa insisted to her parents, stomping one foot on the stone floor, emphasizing her anger and ire. "Birdy is MY friend, not Robb's! He can't keep trying to steal her!"

"She's not an actual bird, sister," Robb quipped back, annoyed that his younger sister was making such a pointless fuss. "And I wasn't stealing. We were simply talking."

Lord Eddard Stark was exhausted after a long day of acting as the high lords of his ancestral home. The last thing he had expected was his solar to be barged in by his eldest daughter, demanding that his eldest son and her older trueborn brother be barred from speaking from her favorite handmaiden. However, it seemed that dealing with Robb was going to be as much as a dread, if not more than Sansa, if his tense shoulders and scowl were anything to go by.

It wasn't that Ned Stark wasn't grateful for your presence, however strange the circumstances of your arrival were. It was highly unusual for a bastard of a noble to come to be the handmaid of a highborn lord's daughter such as Sansa, even more so when your sire was none other than Roose Bolton himself. Truly, he was shocked when Sansa begged him and his wife to promote you to such a high rank. But he couldn't deny how happy you've made his daughter.

"Look, Father!" she was beaming the other morning when she came down to the Great Hall to break fast with the family. "Do you notice anything different today?" Now, Ned loved all his children, but he was the first to admit that he was as ill-informed as any other man regarding matters of women and young girls. However, looking up from his plate, he was surprised to indeed have noticed something different about his daughter's appearance today. "You've done something with your hair," he replied, inwardly delighted with himself from how Sansa smiled wider. "It looks lovely, dear." "Isn't it beautiful? Birdy brushed and braided it for me!" Sansa went to her seat. "She found wild blue roses the other day and thought of braiding them into my hair today!" "It looks wonderful, Sansa," Catelyn Stark nodded. Despite her distaste for her husband's decision to take in Roose Bolton's bastard, she couldn't deny that the girl was good at her work. "Birdy said she could go to the market at Winter Town tomorrow. But she said that she'd wait until after my lessons with Septa Mordane if I wanted to come with her," Sansa looked at her parents with pleading eyes. "May I please go?" Catelyn nodded, "Robb, would you mind escorting your sister and Lady Snow to the marketplace later after your lessons with Rodrick?" Sansa spoke for her brother. "There's no need for Robb to join us. Birdy already asked Jon to do it." "I'll go," Robb interjected, ecstatic with glee at the idea of walking around town with you. He looked back to see your reaction. As usual, you weren't paying attention to anyone and lost in your little world. You seemed to be talking to a new bird today, the little creature cheerily twittering into your ear. Robb spent the rest of the meal lost in his daytime dreams of you, utterly oblivious to the growing irritation of his younger sister.

Sansa pouted and crossed her arms, "You already have Jon, and Theon follows you everywhere! Why do you need to talk to Birdy for anything anyway? She doesn't like to talk about swords or hunting..." She turned to their father. "He even went so far as to pull her into a corner after we broke fast!"

"WHA-!" Robb balked, and the tips of his ears went red. "I did NOT--!"

"Robb," their father, Ned Stark, turned to his son with stern eyes. While Ned was confident that Robb knew better than to act so dishonorably, he wasn't blind to how quickly his eldest son and heir had taken to Sansa's new handmaiden. "Is what your sister speaks true?"

Robb rubbed his eyes and loudly sighed out his frustration. He loved his sister as much as anyone else in his family, but gods above, she could be so much. Really, how can you ever manage to keep your patience with such a tiresome girl he'll never understand?

"No," he firmly replied. "I was merely informing her that I would be joining Jon in escorting her and Sansa to the market."

"I already told you that you don't have to come!" Sansa growled. "Every time Birdy and I talk, you have to come in and interrupt!"

"You spend so much time together. Have you ever considered that perhaps I'm rescuing her from you?" Robb muttered, just low enough for his sister to hear but not his father.

"I heard that, Robb," their father grumbled. Ned looked like he had aged ten years since his children came in and interrupted his peace. "Sansa, you know better than to falsely accuse your brother like that. Robb, please refrain from any impulsive actions. As the next Lord of Winterfell, you need to remember your differing stations."

"Yes, Father," the siblings grumbled in unison. But anyone could tell that this issue was far from over.

"Honestly...! Robb can be so annoying!" Sansa and you have just returned from the market stand with your favorite spinner. What should have been a relaxing walk turned out to be a tiresome activity with the addition of not one but both of her older brothers. "He always has to put his nose into everything!" She waited for you to agree, but you were silent. Turning to look at you, her frustration grew when she realized you weren't paying attention. "Are you even listening to me?"

You finally looked up from your knitting and impassively blinked. "Not really...why? Was it important?"

Sansa sighed before sitting beside you. You and her were sitting underneath the Weirwood Tree, your favorite spot in the Godswood. "As your lady, everything I say to you is important. You're my handmaid; you should know this..."

You dispassionately shrugged. "I'm still not very familiar with the ways of highborn nobles."

Sansa indignantly huffed before pouting. You gave a small smile before going back to your knitting.

“Who do you like better, me or Robb?”

You look at her lady in surprise and confusion. “Your brother? Lord Stark’s firstborn?”

Sansa nods. “Yes, now tell me, do you like me or him better?”

You cocks your head to the side. “Why would that matter, my lady?”

“Because it does!” Sansa rolls her eyes. "He's always interrupting us and trying to flirt with you!"

You carefully think about it. You hadn’t really spent much time with Lord Robb. You're more likely to play with the little ones or Jon, which is common ground for both of you being bastards. In the beginning, Robb tended to avoid you whenever he could. But now he tends to single you out whenever he sees you and his sister talking. “Your brother has been very kind to me. He is certainly very nice. But I haven’t spent much time with him to know. When he does try to talk to me, I find it sometimes difficult to talk with him.”

Sansa’s eyes widen. “He hasn’t been rude to you like Theon, has he?” She shook her head.

“No, just…hard to talk. Not much to say from me to him I suppose.”

“Is that how it is with me?”

You turn to Sansa. “No, I find it very easy to talk to you, my lady. You are very different from me, but I like our discussions very much.”

Each word you spoke was true. Many would consider your Lady Sansa, a silly little girl who believed in too many stories about pretty princes and great heroes. But you knew true evil - you were born from it and was raised with it looming over your shoulder for your entire life. Snasa may have been naive, but she was a kind girl who still saw the beauty in her world. A beauty you couldn't see, but could appreciate.

You and her were very different, but you enjoyed spending time with her. It was apparent she was very proud of her noble birth, but you never felt uncomfortable. In fact, you felt as relaxed with her as you do with Maester Luwin, going so far as to speak informally with her without any other company.

Sansa smiles and hugs you. “I think so, too. So you do like me more than Robb.”

You think and nod. “Yes, I am very confident to say that is the case.”

Jon loved Robb - really, he did. But gods above, his brother could be a brat. "Future lords aren't supposed to sulk."

Robb growled, "I am not sulking."

"Pouting, then..." Jon muttered, going back to aim his arrow at the target. But the arrow flew over the wall when a stray snowball hit his head. Jon turned to his brother, annoyed. "If you want to get to know her so bad, why don't you talk to her without Sansa? You might stand a better chance than just pining after her all day."

"I am not - oh, fuck off," Robb went back to hacking the straw dummy before him. He didn't want to admit it, but Jon was right. It didn't take a genius to guess that his terrible mood had little to do with training and more to do with the fact he failed in his chance to get you alone...again. "Why does she have to be around Birdy all the time, anyway?"

"...Because she's her lady...?"

Robb wanted to scream, "Yeah, but - y'know...doesn't ever annoy you?"

Jon shook his head. Truthfully, it wasn't long ago that his relationship with his half-sister was very different. Before you arrived at Winterfell, the way Sansa treated him was barely better than Lady Stark. She neither acknowledged his presence nor ever referred to him as her brother. But ever since your arrival, the icy wall that separated began to slowly thaw. After befriending you, Sansa gained a whole different perspective on bastardy and was more thoughtful and considerate of how she treated Jon. She even gave him a handkerchief with an embroidered direwolf for his name-day gift.

Jon doubted he and Sansa would ever be as close as he and Ayra, but they were making progress.

Robb wiped the sweat pooling on his forehead. "What would I even talk about with her?"

Jon had the nerve to act oblivious. "Why're you asking me?"

Robb's curse nearly spewed out, "You know why. You're the only one she likes talking to... what the hell do the two of you even talk about for so long?"

"I dunno," Jon shrugged. He knew he wasn't being particularly helpful, but he really didn't have an answer. "Look, just talk to her about anything. Better than what you do now..."

"What are you two talking about?"

Robb and Jon turned around in a panic. There you were, standing in the courtyard with your infamous impassive stare. It was painful to see how effortlessly beautiful you were. You stood like a true beacon of Northern beauty, so much so that all the animals inside the keep craved your company. Robb couldn't recall the number of times he found you cheerily conversing with rats from the kitchen or the crows in the rook.

What he would give to have you speak with him with such eagerness...

"Nothing of importance, my lady," he tried to act as normal as possible. "Why? Do you need assistance with anything?"

You shook your head. "I just wanted to drop something off, " you said, digging into your pouch. You pulled out a package wrapped in a burlap sack and twine. "I mended your gloves. They were looking a bit frayed, so I stitched them. They should last a bit longer now."

Robb didn't respond. He just stood and stared like an idiot who had forgotten his own name. It wasn't until Jon jabbed into his side with his elbow that he thanked you for your help.

"Thank you, my lady," He cleared his throat before taking the package from your hands. He opened the package and wasn't surprised in the least at how his old gloves looked better than when he first got them. You always had that magic touch. "They smell different."

You nodded, "Yes, Ayra mentioned that you were upset last week because I didn't give you my favor since I promised to give it to Jon. She also said you stink after training, so I should ensure the gloves mask the odor." When he didn't react, you decided to provide further clarification. "She said it would help you."

"I'm going to kill Arya," Robb thought to himself. He could see Jon's shoulder shake with laughter from the corner of his eye.

You bowed to take your leave. "Now, excuse me, my lords. I must attend to Edwina."

"A fellow maid?"

"No, the duck in the stable. She's pregnant, and I knitted a scarf for her."

Happy 1K, my love!

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

☆☆☆

Dream woke up in his realm. He was home at last. He had been away for far too long, and he had missed his home. Not only that, a familiar face was here to greet him. Lucienne. She was always so loyal to him.

"Lucienne."

"My lord, you're home!"

She helps him up to his feet, and he turns to look at the grand gates of his realm. Home.

Lucienne and Dream walk toward the gates. Before he can open the gates, Lucienne speaks to him. She looks rather forlorn. "Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them."

The gates open, and he can see what she means. His realm was falling apart. The sight pained him. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents?" He asks softly. "The palace staff?"

"I'm afraid most are gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you." Lucienne tells him.

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them? Had they had so little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?" He asks. He didn't want to believe his people would abandon their realm, their home. He certainly hadn't meant to.

Morpheus and Lucienne headed toward the palace. There was debris everywhere. His kingdom was crumbling around him, and he hated it.

He stood in his throne room. There wasn't much left of it. This room had once been so beautiful and put together, designed by his hand. Now, it was a ghost of what it used to be. Shattered glass and stone covered the floor, crunching under his feet as he walked.

Lucienne watched her lord as he took it all in. Though she had stayed to look after the kingdom, there was only so much she could do. Without Dream, the kingdom couldn't last. If an Endless abandoned their realm, it would fall apart and eventually fade.

Morpheus picked up a shard of glass from beneath his feet and held it in his hand. He raised his hand and tried to summon enough power to rebuild his throne room. The debris began to rise from the ground, but it was taking all his strength to even do that. Eventually, he felt go and collapsed to the ground. He was too weak.

"You need rest and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." He picks himself back up.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby," he lists.

"What happened to them?"

"They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

He sits down on the steps of his throne and looks up at Lucienne. He needed to update her on you. He reaches for his wrist and rubs his scar gently.

"Lucienne, there is something I need to tell you about."

"Yes, sir?" She stands there and gives him her full attention.

"There was someone in that house. Where I was trapped. Someone I need to get to." He looks down at the star scar.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know of soulmate bonds?" He asks her quietly.

"Soulmate bonds?" She sounds rather surprised by his questions. He's never really brought up anything like this before. "I understand that some humans believe their soulmates to be the one they connect with the most. A special connection is made between two people. Something special."

"What do you know of soulmates regardless the Endless?" He asks her.

"Sir?"

"It's rare. It's so rare that only I have one." He tells her. "This scar," he rubs his thumb over it, "is my bond with her."

Lucienne listens with great interest. She wasn't aware such things were real, just a feeling some people got.

"She is down there now. In that house. I saw her." His voice has softened. He seems to be away with his thoughts. "She came down to see me, and something happened. She relieved her scar. It burned into our flesh, and I knew who she was immediately. It would seem she stopped ageing and her brother kept her locked up in her room, much like I was locked up in that basement."

Dream felt angry. Angry for being trapped for so long. Angry that the people who kept him caged had gone and done the same thing to you. Angry that he couldn't have stayed to convince you to take his hand in that one moment. Not that he could blame you. You didn't know him. He saw your fear.

He would make it up to you, he promised.

"I need enough power to return to the waking world so I may get her and my tools."

"You need rest."

"I have little time for that. Please, Lucienne. Is there anything lf mine in the Dreaming? Something I created."

"There is one thing."

☆☆☆

What he did to Gregory was not something he wanted to do, but it had to be done. He would forever be sorry for what he did. He would make it up to Cain and Abel for taking their friend from them.

Next, he needed to summon the Fates. They were not easy to summon, but Dream knew exactly what he needed to do.

Three questions. Three answers.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone with all the answers he was given.

The egg he picked up was the only thing not taken by the Fates, mainly because it was not for them. He left they with Cain and Abel as his apology for Gregory.

Now that he knew where his tools were, to an extent, he could leave. His tools could wait a little longer. He had one more trip to make before them.

You.

He needed to find you, and there was only one way he could do that. He returned to the dock and looked back down into the waters of dreams. This was how he found what he needed for the Fates, and it also how he will find you.

"Please, sir, be careful." Lucienne looked at him with concern.

"I shall. I will not let myself be captured again."

"I mean... can you trust this woman? She is one of them."

Dream looked at Lucienne over his shoulder. "All will be well."

Lucienne had nothing else to say. She watched him disappear into the waters again.

The waters were still rough and dangerous, but he still had a portion of his power within him, which he would use to find you. You should be asleep by now. He needs to find your dreams.

You were the clearest thing in those waters.

☆☆☆

You hadn't slept in hours. The dream man had been gone an entire day already. You had spent the whole day in your room just thinking everything over.

Paul had spent the entire beside Alex.

Sleeping sickness. That's what he called it. The eternal sleep. Alex wouldn't ever wake up again. You couldn't bring yourself to care too much. Alex hadn't been your brother in many years. You had long since learnt to stop caring.

You felt tired. Your mind was tired.

How long had you been staring at your ceiling? You had lost count. Your eyelids were staring to feel heavy, that much you knew. You had tuned out the rest of the house.

Before you knew it, you were dosing off.

You gave in and fell asleep.

You were dreaming. Not of the basement this time. No. Now that he was free and gone, you should have known he probably wouldn't appear in your dreams again.

This time you're in a garden. Your garden. You're 11 years old again. Your father is about to start his ritual. However, this time, you're not in your room. You're down there with him. The men in robes surround the circle. Rodrick looks down at you, his haze stern and cold.

"Watch."

You do watch. You keep your eyes on the summoning circles. Tonight, your father was going to try and bring your brother back by bargaining with death. It sounded crazy. Of course it did. No one comes back from the dead. No one.

You're afraid. The ritual had begun, and you hate it. Your father doesn't even try and comfort you. Of course he doesn't. He doesn't love you.

A figure appears in the circle, and you have to force yourself not to scream in fright. The figure is wearing a long cloak that covers him fully, and on his head is a strange mask. At least, you hope it's a mask.

Your father has the mask removed after taking its things. Is this death? You can't see his face clearly. It looks like a man, though. He doesn't move or make a sound.

You run. You have to run. Whatever it is, you don't want to be around it anymore. You run as fast as you can. The house seems so much bigger than you remember it being. You go round corners and don't seem to be any closer to your room.

You run straight into someone. You scream. You no longer sound like a child. You look up and see the man standing there. He's wearing a black coat now.

"Wake up."

His voice is deep. Unlike anything you'd heard before. Your heart was racing and you had frozen.

"Wake up."

"I can't."

The man lifts his hand up toward you, hand out like the night he escaped. You remember it all because this is a dream. He takes a step closer and you move back, tripping over nothing and falling to the ground.

You gasp and sit up in your bed. Your breathing is uneven, and your heart is racing. Sweat clings to your skin.

You freeze.

Slowly, you move your eyes to the left and then find yourself scrambling off the bed and as far away from him as possible. You keep your back to the wall as you stare at the man in your room.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" You ask, panic definitely setting in.

"I am not here to hurt you."

"Why are you here? Why did you come back?" You ask quickly.

"I am Lord Morpheus, but you can call me Dream. That is my true name."

"Dream?"

"Yes. I came back here for you," he says quite firmly.

"Me? Why? I wasn't the one that kept you trapped down there. I didn't hurt you. I had nothing to do with anything!" You sound quite urgent. Desperate. You're clearly frightened.

"I know."

"Then why? Why are you here?"

"I came for you." He puts it so simply.

"Why?" You ask again.

"Your wrist. Let me see it."

You automatically cradle your wrist to your chest and look at him with a wary expression. You know exactly what he wants to see.

You hear him exhale quietly and watch as he lifts his arm up. He pulls up his sleeve and shows you his wrist. You gasp softly at the sight. Slowly, you bring your wrist up to his and look at the matching scar.

"What is it?" You ask softly.

"Our bond. You are rare."

"Rare?" You look up and meet his eyes. They're so blue.

"You are the soulmate of an Endless," he tells you. "My soulmate."

You can't help it. You burst out into laughter. Dream looks very confused by your reaction. Of all things that could happen, he didn't think you would start laughing.

"That's insane."

"I do not understand," be watches you curiously. His confusion only deepened.

"What the heck is an Endless?" You ask.

"I am. I am one of seven. We exist because you know deep down we exist. I am the king of dreams and nightmares. The Sandman, if you like."

"The Sandman?" You scoff softly. "He's a fairytale."

"Perhaps." He looks almost amused.

"And, what? I'm your destined partner or something?"

"In a sense."

"Absolutely not," you tell him, inching along the wall carefully. If you could reach the door you could find Paul.

"You are rejecting me?"

"Sure, if that's how you want to put it. I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"You came down to the basement," he says, though of course you already knew that. It was you, after all. "Were you not curious?"

"Well, yes. My father had summoned something, and it was living under our house. I wanted to see, but I wasn't expecting you. Then you looked at me and I was scared. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"You must have!" You exclaim. "Look at me! I should be about 85 now. Do I look 85 to you?"

Dream doesn't move from where he stands as you slowly inch around the room toward the door. If you run, he'll let you, but if he can keep you in here, he will try.

"No."

"You did this to me!"

"Not intentionally. This happened because of our bond. I cannot stay here. I need to find my tools. I want you to come with me."

"Why should I? I don't understand any of this. Please." You look sad. Afraid. He doesn't want you to be afraid.

"I will not hurt you. I want to take you to my realm."

"Your realm?"

"The Dreaming," he clarifies.

"I'm so confused..."

"I understand. Everything will become clear if you come with me. You must know. You must feel it. That burn."

You look down at your wrist and run your fingers over the star softly. "Yeah. I feel it. You really mean everything you said? That we're fated or something?"

"Yes. It is unfair, I understand. You haven't been given a choice."

"Why me?" You ask.

"I do not know. I cannot question Destiny. I can only hear what he has to say, and I believe this is part of it."

"Destiny? You speak like that's a person."

"He is. My brother."

"Dream. Destiny. Death?"

"Yes. My sister."

"Oh... So, Father really was trying to summon Death. He got you instead." Some things were starting to make sense.

"Yes."

You look at him, less frightened now, but still full of questions. He could see it in your eyes. If you wanted to ask them, he would answer, but not here.

He raises his hand.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To London. I must get my sand."

"Sand? You really are the Sandman?"

He nods his head subtly.

"If you come with me, you'll never be locked away in a room again. You can come and go as you please."

Freedom. He is offering you freedom.

"In your realm?"

"You will be safe there," he assures you.

You close your eyes and think about it all. Alex wouldn't be a problem either way now, but you could be free of this house. Free of any trace of your father and all the things he had done. Free from your past, your imprisonment in this room.

Dream holds his hand out again. You stare at it. He is your one chance to get away from the Burgess name.

You take his hand.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @thescarletwitchjobro - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi -

[turvi]

Sugar

Rodrick Heffley x Autistic!Reader

Y/n fiddled with her fingers as she contemplated opening the basement door. She knew Rodrick was practising right now, and it would be uncomfortable for her to sit through it.

She paced the hallway until she decided to sit on the couch, but she saw the time. It was almost 6 pm, and his parents would be back from the supermarket. So she left his home.

A few minutes later, his parents got home, and Rodrick looked for her everywhere.

"What are you looking for, Rodrick?" Susan's voice startled him. He put his hand on his chest as he took a breath of relief.

"Jeez! Susan, don't sneak up on your kids like this." Rodrick made a note to talk to Y/n tomorrow as he made his way to his room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning Rodrick pelted stones on her window. He smirked when he saw her window open. "There's my pretty girl? Come down. I need to see you properly."

Y/n blushed and ran down the stairs. Straight into his arms. She smiled as she felt his hand drawing circles on her back.

"You alright, sugar? You went without saying goodnight," he asked, lightly pinching her cheek.

Y/n shifted her weight between her legs, her palms sweating. "Uhh... I actually had something in my mind."

Rodrick squinted his eyes at her. "what is it, sugar?" he gently caressed her arm, trying to calm her nerves.

"I wanna listen to you practice." she pouted as she looked up at him

Rodrick sighed. "Sweets, you know my loud music will make you uncomfortable, and I can't have that." his tone was soft.

His heart broke when he saw disappointment on her face. He took her hand and walked with her in the neighbourhood, hoping it would clear her mood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here you go, Rodrick". He immediately pockets the "mom bucks". Greg looked at his older sibling in suspicion. Rodrick barely would leave his room...somehow making Greg do all the chores. Now he was happily doing chores, being nice to him.

Greg saw as he ran upstairs, and he quietly followed him. He peeped through his door to Rodrick, taking out a stash of money from under his bed. He sat on the bed and started counting the money.

Rodrick looked at his drumsticks which looked like they could break any moment. He shook his head and ordered the noise-cancelling headphones. Greg hid when Rodrick got out of his room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning Rodrick was confused when he found a few extra dollars in his stash. He turned around and saw Greg hiding and smiled. Rodrick thought he won't be pranking Greg...at least for a month. He quickly gift-wrapped the headphones and went to Y/n's home.

He could feel himself falling in love with the girl more as she brightened up as she saw the headphones and said. "Rodrick...you didn't have to buy this...these things are costly..."

Roderick interrupted her. "Take it as your early birthday gift. And now you can sit through my band practice." he shrugged. He could buy all the headphones in the world just to see her smile like that.

"What about your drumsticks?"

He blushed. Mentally he was picturing their marriage. "I can put tapes, and it will be good as new."

"I don't deserve this."

He pulled her closer to him, kissing her cheeks. "You deserve all the nice things. And I did this because I want my girl there when I practice. You are my lucky charm, my love, my heart."

Y/n blushed and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

He smirked and opened his arms. "Kiss me all you want, sugar."

Rodrick instantly felt her lips on him. He couldn't help but smile as she kissed him.

"I love you, Rodrick." She declared breathlessly.

"I love you too, Sugar."

@randodummy

A/N: I hope this was good. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[goatcheesecak3]

Could you possibly write something small about a beach date with Rodrick 😍

Rodrick x reader

Sorry this took so long! Me mam tried to sell me to one direction so I was slightly preoccupied 🙄

Anyways enough jibber jabber, here's a lil fluff about a beach date with Rodrick :^)

The heffleys had invited you on a trip to the beach, since you and Rodrick had been together for some time now, it was pretty much routine for you to come along to family events at this point.

You and Rodrick drove in his van separately from everyone else, truth be told, you were relieved. You loved the heffleys but you weren't so keen on the music they played in the car.

"You excited babe?" Rodrick turned to look at you

"Can't wait! I was looking up the beach on Google, there's quite a few rock pools so we might see some cool sealife!"

Rodrick's face lit up at this

"Like a crab?!" He asked

"Yes honey, like a crab" you smiled at your easily amused boyfriend.

"Awesome. I fucking love crabs" he said.

Upon arrival Susan and Frank were happy to see the pair of you, they both approached to greet you, when seemingly out of nowhere Greg appeared, flinging his arms around you.

"Hey lil dude! Nice to see you" You beamed down at him

"Great to see you too! I've got all the stuff set up!" He replied excitedly

You were confused for a second, before looking just past him and seeing an abundance of different sized buckets and spades. You finally remembered, last time you'd seen the Heffleys you'd promised Greg you'd be on his team against Rodrick for a sandcastle building competition.

"Rodrick I love you, but you are so going down" you said, playfully poking him in the ribs before running off to the equipment with Greg.

"Hey no fair! You guys don't get a head start!" He called after the two of you.

The sandcastle competition was definitely pretty tense, you and Greg had opted for a "bigger = better" strategy, and had come up with a 3 storey castle.

Rodrick's, while much smaller, was more detail oriented. He'd decorated it with little stones, and even carved out little battlements.

When the time was up, the three of you went to get Susan and Frank to judge, but when you'd returned only one castle was left.  It would appear that Manny had decided that Rodrick's Castle was the perfect race course for one of his toy trucks, and in the few seconds you were all gone, he'd reduced it to rubble.

"Ha! We won!" Greg jeered.

You looked at Rodrick, who seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Aw baby," you stroked his arm, "I think your castle was Manny's favourite at least"

He smiled slightly at this, but still seemed slightly miffed that all his hard work was ruined.

Never mind, you knew exactly how to cheer him up

"How about we go check out those rock pools?" You asked.

Rodrick grinned excitedly, immediately forgetting about the sand castle, "oh yeah! I hope we see something cool!" He beamed, grabbing your hand and eagerly pulling you in the direction of the rocks.

You carefully climbed onto the glistening wet rocks, made just that bit more treacherous by the odd bit of seaweed and sharp barnacles. You held onto Rodrick tightly, fearing that his clumsy self would slip and accidentally keelhaul himself.

(A/n if you don't know what keelhaulling is, look it up at your own risk. It's pretty gnarly).

"What are those things?" Rodrick asked curiously, pointing towards tufts of purple sticking out from the sides of the rock pools.

"Sea anemones! Be really gentle and touch them, see what happens" you encouraged him.

Rodrick looked slightly nervous, but he trusted you. He dipped his finger into the shallow water and felt the tiny tentacles grip his finger. He giggled high pitch and very amused, before pulling his hand away and shaking it dry.

"It was like, sticky?" He said

You laughed at his reaction, he was adorable when he was confused.

"That was it trying to eat you! It thought your finger was a little fish!"

"Really?!"

"Mhm"

"That's so funny," he bent down to look at the anemone, "you're no match for me little bro" he said cockily.

You were unsure as to whether he was joking, or if he was genuinely proud of not being eaten by a gelatinous blob the size of a penny. Probably the latter, knowing Rodrick, but either way you find it endearing.

You spent quite a while trapesing around the rock pools, Rodrick seemingly fascinated by everything- particularly the little clusters of sea snails. He likened their pointy shells to his studded bracelet, affectionately giving them the title of "most metal animal he'd seen all day". His day was made, however, when you called him over to a tiny pool right at the edge of the rocks.

"Baby, come quick!"

He rushed over, abandoning the clump of seaweed he'd been popping like bubblewrap, and turned his attention towards what you'd been pointing at.

There, nestled inbetween a few tufts of seaweed, sat the tiniest little crab, it's body not much bigger than the tip of a pinky finger. As Rodrick kneeled down to get a closer look, his face was graced with a wide, goofy smile. He looked between you and the crab for a few seconds, before blurting out "it's a little baby!", his voice high and girlish.

You let out a chuckle at this, watching your boyfriend's eyes grow in amazement and glee at the sight of such a small crab. His attention was fixed to it for as long as it sat there, until the crab must have decided that staring back at the squealing Rodrick had become tedious, and scuttled away under some pebbles.

Rodrick finally stood once again, and reached out to hold your hands.

"That was so cool," he said, his eyes twinkling and his smile somehow even more loveable than ever.

"You're so cute," you replied, unable to contain your adoration any longer. You placed your arms over his shoulders, while instinctively, Rodrick held your waist.

You leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on his lips. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was a hardcore punk guy with a big beat up van, and an affinity for moshing. At times like this, all you saw was an innocent, precious sweetheart. You just wanted to hold his face and pepper it with gentle kisses, while showering him with compliments like "my handsome boy," and "you're the cutest thing in the whole world". You probably would later, but not right now. He'd never live it down if his family saw him being such a big softie.

You allowed yourself to get lost in his big brown eyes for a moment longer, before you heard Frank calling the two of you to come and get some food.

I love you, you thought to yourself as Rodrick carefully guided you down the rocks. As if he could read your mind, he threw an arm round your shoulder and whispered in your ear

"I love you, y/n"

A/n requests are open! I write hcs and short fics for a couple characters, check my pinned post for details! :^)

(Pls request something I need ideas lol)

[sludgewolf]

Horror Night

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Warning: foul language, may be ooc

Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Masterlist

This was his idea, he wanted to act as your knight in shinny armour when you got scared by the movie

He takes you to his room and slam the door on Greg's face when he wanted to come along

Rodrick isnt a scared cat but also not a stone faced bitch

but between you two he's the one jumping up at any jumpscare

he tells you he really undertestimated how scary some of the movies you picked are

Rodrick laughed so hard when Jason threw the teen around in the sleeping bag like a sack of potatoes in the second movie

he will try to be smooth and have his arm casually drapped over your shoulder, even if you're taller, and as the night progresses it transitions into a full on hug

he shoves his face on the crock of your neck and squeezes you whenever he gets scared

You make fun of the way the characters run from the monster, specially that girl in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre that ran too slow while being chased by Bubba

You end up falling asleep somewhere between the Halloween bad sequels and the reboot

You wake up to Rodrick drooling on his pillow while still keeping an arm around you

[thebeesareback]

There's something which bothers me about asoiaf.

The night's watch, we've heard, was established after the long night, about 8000 years ago. Jon is (supposedly) the 998th Lord Commander, which approximately tracks.

We're led to believe that the vows have not changed at all during this time. I ask you to find the oldest book you can. For me, in the UK, that's probably Shakespeare, who was writing late 1500s/early 1600s. I have an English degree and i struggle with some of the language. Words fall in and out of fashion, understanding of concepts like, hm, marriage, change over time (Measure for Measure, I'm looking at you), and invasions will impact linguistics.

Therefore, a vow written by Shakespeare 500-ish years ago would have totally different connotations to a contemporary person vs a modern one, and someone with little/no formal education (like most of the nights' watch) probably wouldn't understand most of it. And that's 500 years! The nights' watch vow is 8000 years old! If someone handed me a peice of writing from 8000 years ago, which is technically the stone age, i wouldn't even know if I was holding it the right way up. Those vows aren't just dated: they're complete jibberish.

To add to this: Westerosi history generally seems pretty strange. We're supposed to understand that the maesters carefully destroyed lots of information about dragons, which helped contribute to their extinction. Yet, somehow, Asha Greyjoy knows about Kingsmoots, when the last one happened 5000 years ago? Again, a UK based example: stonehenge is about 5000 years old. Nobody knows what it's for. There are theories, there are people who worship there, but mostly it's a bunch of cool rocks. So it doesn't make sense that all of the information about dragons is lost over about 200 years from the Dance to Dany asking her handmaidens for info, but Asha, who comes from a culture where learning and reading aren't exactly celebrated, suddenly has access to all of this ancient information.

We do, of course, love, respect and stan one (1) Rodrick the Reader for his contributions to Asha's education and understanding of history, but one person isn't enough to keep history/culture/customs alive for 5000 years.

[ophelieverse]

Can you write a Daemon angst where he and the reader were in a secret relationship but now she has to marry his brother?

❥You weren’t mine to lose.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader.

(Also a little Viserys x reader)

Reader is Aemma younger sister,so she will have Targy features.There will be incest(since reader and Daemon/Viserys are cousins)so if that makes you uncomfortable do not read.Also a little bit a sexy time(but nothing much)and Daemon is kinda of an asshole here.Set up right before Viserys will become king,thanks for requesting and let me know what you think💕hope you like it!

•••••••••••••••••••

She often dreamt of his touch, but they were not dreams at all,they were memories.Memories of how his strong hands caressed her tender body,how they glided across her delicate skin and soothed the chills she felt to her very core.Without saying a single word his hands spoke to her,answering her every begging demand.

Vivid memories filled her mind and soon she was whisked away,feeling his hands glide beneath her nightgown and her most delicate parts,she gasped,as an ache overcomes her.Soon the rivers of her desire consume her,a nervous breath,a moistened clench between her thighs comes next as she closes her eyes and sinks even deeper.

Her aches are soothed only by the warmth of his hand over her swallow clit,she flinches,the feeling of his fingers gliding through her tender lips,the wet sound feeling the hot air in the room,she clenches uncontrollably as she begged for more.His fingers slide slowly inside of her,she exhale,curled deep inside,her body accepts them,clenching on them as they glide in and out of her.Soothing the ache she felt deep inside.

Soon she would explode for him,releasing all the wonder and love the held inside.His hands were wonderful,even magical as they captured more than just her mind and consumed her dreams,they’ve touched her soul.

Y/n woke up with a slow hum,her muscles aching as she was stirring in her bed,her soft skin hot as pure fire while her white nightgown was clinging to her sweaty body like a second skin.

The sun was up in the sky,shining down on the clear coasts of Dragon Stone,waking up and warming every living creature on the small island.The cold ocean breeze that came in from the open window made her shiver,just like raw stone floor that touched her delicate feet as she got ready for the day ahead.

«He came back with the first lights of the sunrise,my princess.»her handmade had told her in a quiet whisper,brushing her silver hair.

Y/n was sitting at her vanity table,admiring her beautiful features in the mirror in front of her«Does anyone else know of his presence?»she asked,trying to hide the little smile that was growing on her face.

With her handmade shaking her hand,the young princess let out a sigh of relief«The Rouge Prince only asked for your greetings.»she explained lowly.

Y/n cheeks heated up,just like the rest of her body that suddenly shook with an aching desire that traveled from her spine to in between her legs.The Rouge Prince,Daemon,her lover was finally back to her after two long weeks that kept her awake at night,dreaming of his tender touch and his mischievous eyes.

The two of them grown up together,as his little cousin,daughter of Daella Targaryen and Rodrick Arryn,Y/n often stayed at the Red Keep during at her childhood years along her older sister.Only few years separating them in age,Daemon never truly liked her when their where young finding her too nosy,always screaming and kicking and following him around like a lost puppy.As the older one,he was often forced by his father to play with her,to spend his time with her company and listening to her rambling about stupid and boring girls thing that he couldn’t care less about.

But everything changed when Daemon saw Y/n again when they were both older,wiser and not little kids that used to pull each other hair or fight over petty things all the time.The first time he saw his dear cousin again,it felt like a fever dream. White and golden dress,hair falling off her back and curled on her shoulder,sparkling eyes,rosy cheeks and a young joyful smile adorning her angelic little face,she looked like a miracle.Gone was the bratty girl who used to jump on his back demanding piggyback rides,the little girl who broke his nose white the wooden sword when she pleaded him to train her and the one that used to steal his desserts during dinners.

She was just turned seventeen when they saw each other again in Harrenhal.This was not the first time that prince Daemon visited the Castle and it was not the first tournament he attended,he was used to the horrid smell of horse shit,the loudness of the people and the ugly faces of the young and inexperienced knights.But her,princess Y/n,felt like a miracle,a beautiful breath of fresh hair.

It wasn’t difficult to spot her among the crowd,she were sitting in the honorable stands of House Targaryen,where his brother and family all were reunited to enjoy the sunny evening celebrating the his nomination as the heir to the Iron Throne.It wasn’t difficult to see that she didn’t belong there,seated besides her older sister and father,her wither and pure dress reflected her soul:innocent,untouched.

Thats was what her found more attractive of her.The way her cheeks turned red whenever she surprised his predator eyes on her figure,they way she bowed her head and play nervously with her fingers.The way she gripped her older sister,Aemma,hand and closed her eyes when a knight fell from his horse.It was clear that the noisy crowd overwhelmed her,that the smell and the only sight of blood made her stomach churn.

Y/n looked nothing like she did when she was a reckless little girl without all the care in the world,with her short boy-cut hair,leather pants,rude and loud.Now she was quiet,reserved and only spoken when people asked her.In the years she was raised by her grandmother,Queen Alysanne,and father likeness,as a proper fine princess and lady to betrothed as soon as she had the right age,while her sister was now to be prepared to be the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Y/n would had inherited whatever title and places her future husband would’ve provided for her,but at that time she was still living in the Eyrie with her family.She were wasted for that place,when Daemon visited the Vale he felt nothing but pure repudiation.She,beautiful,young and fertile princess,should stayed at a place like Dragon Stone,enjoying the warming sun and the cool breeze of the ocean.A calm and loving place,a place that was his just like she should have been.

She would have been the perfect wife for some someday,calming,loving,with a beautiful face to look at and even more beautiful and untouched body at their mercy.It was not secret that she was still a virgin like everyone expected from her,and her magnetic innocent drove him crazy.But he didn’t wanted her for that,he already got a wife,Lady Rhea Royce,a rude and masculine woman that he spent all his time away from,and he didn’t needed another one around to thrown on him responsibility after responsibility.

Daemon wanted her to clear his mind,to rest his bones after a rough day,just to pass his time in between her sweet and soft legs and never think about anything again. He could have shaped her at his liking,drawing her just like he wanted.Teaching her everything about what passion is,of taking without the fear of asking,indulging her on his very darkest preference that would look so good on her.He could already imagine her,with hair messy,skin shining,tears in her eyes and her pretty little mouth begging him,only him,to give her more.Y/n would been good,she knew her manners,where her place was,when to speak and when to keep quiet,she would have been perfect for him to use as his liking.

He took Y/n a week after,fulfilling his desire and the imagine in his head,imagining her with her legs spread and ready on his bed,clawing his back because it was too much for her little body to handle,and caressing her belly where his heirs where growing.He wouldn’t mind that if it happened,even though he would had her drinking warm cups of moon tea,he wouldn’t be the one raising them anyway.He may was married and Y/n was to be married off to some lord,but it would be her warm his sheets and him to be inside of her.

A week later,after the tournament,they both were on Dragon Stone with their siblings.His older brother Viserys was named prince of the island and future king,while Y/n sister,as his wife,was now to be the future queen.Aemma was four months pregnant at the time,and with the joy and the scares of her first pregnancy,she asked to her younger sister to stay with her till her time was near.Daemon,on the other hand,like always,preferred to not stay in his wife presence but this time instead of traveling with his dragon,he decided to join his brother to stay close to Y/n.

The first night the arrived in the island he stayed up,away in the big and ancient library,waiting for his little bird to fall in his trap.He had teased her all night during dinner,brushing his fingers on her cheeks to clean her from the food,breathing on her neck whenever he got closer to her whispering in her ear,placing his hand on her thigh and massaging her leg under the too heavy gown.He even let her have his lemon cake,without complaining like he used when they where children.

The little candle Y/n held in her hand shook when,after she had opened the door,right next to the shelf and on the old wooden floor was Daemon.Sitting with his leg spread,a candle on his side and a book on his lap,he seemed bored while his fingers tossed pages to pages.

«You may have changed,but you still the little bird that i know.Still awake and wandering around,following me everywhere.»he said,his voice was low and the little nickname he used to call her that passed his lips,made her cheeks heat up.

«My apologize,my prince»Y/n said bowing her head down«i didn’t think someone would have been there at this time.I should leave you to your reading.»as she tried to turn around to make her leave,his long and slander fingers wrapped around her wrist.

She was lying,it was so clear on her face that she wasn’t saying the truth.She knew where to find him and she wanted to be in his presence more than anything.Since she first saw him again,she felt a strange sensation rising from between her legs and spreading all over her body,an unfamiliar warmth that made her entire body quiver for his touch.

«Since we both can’t sleep,how about we keep each other company?Just like when we were children.»it sounded more like an order then a request,and she obeyed him like a good girl like her should.

When they were children they used to fight and scream at each other all the time,now they both had other intentions for each other.

Y/n took place on the cold ground next to him,her back on the book shelf,and her knees pulled up to her chest. The silence never made so much noise like in that moment,cleaning her throat Y/n tried to find the courage to start a proper and polite conversation:

«What are you doing here at this hour?»her question was so dumb just like the little look on her face,her voice was unsure,his presence felt heavy as she tried to avoid his gaze.

Daemon laughed a little,he made her nervous and it was adorable«Just reading.»he answered showing her the book about the ancient houses in Westeros that he had on his lap.

Y/n nodded,keeping her eyes low and trying to seem secure of herself«Why here?»she asked again,but she failed since her voice came out like a little squeak.

The library,at the Red Keep,at her father castle,even there on Dragon Stone had became her safe place.Since she became a young woman her father and grandmother had keep her in there with her Septa,memorizing names,historical facts and different languages while Daemon trained like a soldier outside.And now,her place became his too.

«Why here?»he repeated her words but with a strong a firm voice«Because is quiet.I like to read when it’s quiet and there is not people walking around,it helps me to appreciate things more.»he explained caressing the pages with the tip of his finger.

«That’s explain why you didn’t wanted me in your presence in our early days.»Y/n chuckled under her breath,remembering all the time he used to push her away or rolled his eyes whenever he was forced to play with her.

«But you are all grown up now.And that red dress looked more good on you than boy leather pants that you used to wear.»he answered with a pleasing voice that made her back straight up.

During the dinner that night,Y/n was wearing a beautiful long red dress that seemed to be carved by the gods on her feminine and womanly body.The corset was tight on her waist,her breast exposed thanks to plunging neckline,while she carried herself with such a delicate and polite demeanor that made her look more delicious than anything on the table.

«Our grandmother used to say the same,when she kept me locked up in my room.I appreciate your compliment.»she told with a sincere smile on her redden face.

«Why are you still up then?Didn’t our grandmother taught you that princesses shouldn’t be wandering around at this our?»Daemon asked then,teasing her with a mischievous look in his eyes.

Y/n cleared her throat,she felt a little bit ashamed at the moment and she didn’t knew why.He was right,she was taught how to be a proper princess and the fact the pointed out that she was “misbehaving” made her heart beat rapidly and cheeks heat up even more.

«I was in Aemma chambers,but then her handmaidens came in and i-»she started to explain.

«You being here makes me think that you are not very fond of staying among people.»it wasn’t a question but a statement,a proof that he could read her so easily

It made her flustered,her belly was tickling while she played nervously with the hem of her nightgown.It was the truth,she wasn’t made for crowds and loud places,she liked to stay hidden where she thought no one,expect from Daemon,could have seen her.

«It’s not like that,my prince-»Y/n tried to speak again.

«You are not,aren’t you?Thats no reason to lie to me,i can read it on your face.You are not a girl for people like that.»he was not teasing her,he just wanted to made her realize that he was the only one who could understand her.The only one she should be around and come to when she needed someone.

Her brows furrowed in confusion«People like that?»

Daemon sighed«By like that,i mean people all over you.Always asking you question and planting themselves all over your face.»he explained slowly«You don’t like that,you are more the quiet type.»

It was one of the first things he noticed about her when he saw her again.The way the noise and the loud people around her made her flinch back.He would protect her from that,keeping her safe under his arm and away from everyone else bed who wasn’t his.He also asked himself if once she was with someone she trusted enough,in a vulnerable state,she would have let herself go.Being as loud as she wanted,not caring if someone could have heard her,living of the pure ecstasy of him inside of her.

«Is that a bad thing?»Y/n voice was thin as the air that was struggling in her lungs.

Daemon hisses quietly,the fact that she was already asking for his approval made his cock stir in his pants«Not at all.»he reassured her,then he patted the empty spot on the floor next to him«Come here,sit close to me.»he urged.

Once again,she followed his order without hesitation«Right there.»he breathed in her ear,her shoulder was touching and his hot breath made her skin tingle.

«I was serious when i told you that we should keep each other company.We are a family and we haven’t seen each other in a while,so what have you been up to?»he seemed genuinely interested in her and that made her even more nervous.

It was the first time that a handsome man asked her about herself,plus there was really nothing to say about her was it?Besides reading a taking care of her late mother cat and now her pregnant sister,she was an empty shell of a person.

«There’s no much interesting about me i’m afraid,my prince.All i ever did was reading a studying in this library»Y/n said quietly,resting her chin on her knees.

«Oh,reading and studying?»Daemon voice was softer,it seemed like he was taking to a child using a little mocking tone«What a good girl,trying to be a good daughter.I like that.»he praised her,taking a strand of her silver hair in between his finger and playing with it.

He took note of the way she started to breath through her mouth,of the way her thighs clenched under her nightgown and how red her cheeks turned.She was making it very hard for him to not take her against the bookshelf.

«You see»he started again«at your age i hated studying.You are very lucky,i wish i was like you.»he was caressing the back of her neck,while with his free hand he closed the book on his lap so he could turned his body to her.

Y/n seemed surprised to hear the words of the rouge prince,he was only few years older then her and she couldn’t remember anyone she looked up more than him«I don’t think that you really mean what you are saying,my prince.»how could someone like him wanting to be like her?

He chuckled a little«I’am,i wish i had those eyes.Those eyes that are afraid to look at me.»his deep voice was a mere whisper in her ear.

Her skin was boiling,hot and sensible to his linger touch and the sound of his melodic voice«I-I’m not!»her cheeks were puffed.

It was like he didn’t heard her«Why are you afraid to look at me?You want something from me?»he already knew the answer to his own question.

Daemon could see the way his little cousin hands were shaking and the way she was pressing her legs together with some much force.He wonder how wet she would been,if he only dipped one of his finger inside of her.At this point,he imagine all of her juices dripping from her thighs,all on the floor while she was trying her hardest to hide it.

Y/n didn’t find the voice to answer him,she was feeling weird.A new strange sensation was blooming inside her belly and between her legs,growing and growing whenever Daemon sooting voice spoke to her.

«What’s keeping your mind from resting,little bird?»Daemon asked then,his eyes trailing all over her body and his senses overwhelmed by her sweet scent.

«Father told me that after Aemma will give birth i’m to be married to Lord Rickon Stark.»she said with thin voice,keeping her eyes on the floor.

Daemon hummed lowly,he still had four months to claim her and another man wouldn’t certainly stop him to have what he desired the most«From what i heard,he’s a honorable and respectful man.»he told her.

She took a deep breath«I know that,but i don’t know if i will make a good wife.I look at my sister everyday and she has a lot of responsibility on her shoulders.»she confessed,resting her chin on her knee.

Y/n didn’t knew why,out of all the people,she was taking about this to him.When she was younger she used to be so attracted by his free willing life,Daemon never cared about the rules or of what his parents would told him,they already had Viserys as their perfect child,he didn’t need to be one too.She wanted to be like him,to live following her own rules and dreams,but she got the worse curse the gods could’ve sent to her:being a woman.

When Y/n got her first blood,her grandmother Alysanne had took her under her wing,raising her and teaching her how to be a proper princess and most importantly a wife,finding her a very suitable husband.

«You’re as good as anyone,i suppose. You’re beautiful and young.You will be the Lady of Winterfell.You are educated and presentable.Also,you are healthy so children won’t be any problem.»Daemon stated,almost like he was studying her,mapping her body and looking at her face under the candle light.

«Oh gods.»she breathed out,unable to hold in the curse filled with nausea and disgust.Just the thought of needing to produce heirs,to have inside of her the children of some man that she even didn’t met yet,made her head dizzy.

«Is this what scares you the most?Becoming a mother?»Daemon questioned, he just read her mind again like she was one of the books present in the library.

Y/n breathed through her nose,deeply in her chest as she exhaled her next words«I-I just don’t know-»she stuttered on herself.

«Or maybe»his voice was like the purest silk in her ears«Is the process that scares you?The thought of giving yourself to some,your entire body,your soul,your womb.Is that it?Didn’t our grandmother taught you what is your duty as a wife,what is like to have sex with someone?»he said with a dry laugh,but it was more of a rhetorical question.

Daemon already knew the answer,it was written all over her pretty face.Under that naive expression,not a single tough behind her eyes clouded with what seemed to be excitement and fear at the same time.Her plump lips parted,a sinful shade of red covering her cheeks,neck and ears while her skin was hot as the purest fire.

«No»Y/n muttered out,other words stuck in her throat or dead on the tip of her tongue.

She felt her body tense up when she saw the dark smile growing up on his beautiful face«I can do that for you.I can teach you how to be a proper wife and execute your duties.»he stated,talking about it like it was the most normal thing in the world and no a big deal.

Y/n brain was trying to understand what was going on,while her heart pumped wildly in her chest.It was hard to breath when he was so close to her,when he was looking and speaking to her in such a way a rouge prince like him shouldn’t be doing with a little princess like her.

«Come here.»he said,tugging her close to him«Let me feel those rosy cheeks.»his fingers were caressing her face,mapping the perfect and unmarked skin with his thumbs while his eyes roamed to all that was his.

But then Y/n squeaked out a little fragile:«We shouldn’t,it’s not proper.»trying to get away from him.

Daemon thumb caressed her bottom lip,feeling the warm and wet texture of her red mouth that he was sure tasted like pure sin«You don’t have to repeat her words,she is not here anymore and you can do whatever the fuck you want to.»his words were crude but his voice remained soft.

It angered him the fact that his grandmother words water still poisoning his little cousin thoughts.He needed to take her place,to be the only one in Y/n head,the only voice she would’ve listen to and the only one she would’ve took orders from.

«I c-can ask Aemma some advices-»Y/n said,she felt ridiculous and embarrassed especially under his predatory gaze.

«Your sister has already too many things to think of:being the new Queen,a babe on the way.You don’t want to be a bother,don’t you?»Daemon asked,he was manipulating her so good,making her feel guilty and ashamed over something she didn’t have control over.

Y/n shook her head rapidly,clinging her hands on her knees and thanking the bookshelf behind her to keep her up«Don’t want to be a bother.»she said,her eyes were glassy and ger lips were trembling a bit.

It made her look even tinier,smaller,younger that she looked.Just a little lost butterfly in his cruel and controversial web.

«I’m doing this for you.Wouldn’t you wish to be a good wife and satisfy your Lord husband?»Daemon had his hands on her again,fisting the hair on the nape of her neck and tilting her head back a little while he was hovering on her.

The room seemed so much smaller now and even hotter,she felt like she was boiling under his touch.Her leges trembled,her thighs were hurting her with how much force she was closing them together to have some relief from the tickling sensation she was feeling in her lower belly.

Following her gaze down her legs,Daemon lifted her nightgown over her knees,up her thighs and taking a moment to look at the soft and pure skin.Just with one hand,without much force,he opened them just like he was opening the pages of a book,finding between them the desire and lust he was searching for.

«I wonder..»he muttered to himself,his cold finger made her shiver as they traveled along her untouched skin till the little bud between them.

It’s not like he didn’t wanted to remember her as a kid,even tough he couldn’t stand her,vivid memories flashed through his mind now that they were there.Y/n was the little girl who used to braid his hair during boring winter days,the one he personally taught to how to claim her dragon.The only girl he ever hugged.And now he was going to take her on the library floor,the place where they used to hide and eat the cakes that they stole from the kitchens or to read after one of their usual fights.His duck got harder just thinking about having her beneath him,wanting him,moaning his name.

Daemon had the whole day of loving and looking how cute and fragile Y/n was ,how horny and needy she could get without even realizing it.Praticaly throwing herself at him every chance she got that night at dinner.How she insisted to have him sitting next to her,how she placed her hand over his on her knees to kept it there,and how wet and warm she was at the moment.

Y/n squeaked like a little mouse,her eyes closing just like her legs around his hand«Are you in heat?»he teased her, gritting his teeth like he’s upset with her.

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment,and she had to cover her face with her hands to hide from him. She didn’t had the strength to face him when his handsome face contorts in angry features,it scared her.

it’s almost as if she didn’t realized how she was grinding on him,rubbing her clothed pussy against his hand«W-what?»she whispered,from her eyes little tears were streaming down her cute little cheeks,fighting the urge to continue with her shameful act as he tightens his hold on her hips.

Daemon clicked his tongue,his hand was still on her most private parts«Your grinding against it like a dog in heat.Weren’t you a proper girl?»he made her notice the way she was desperately trying to have some friction.

Y/n nodded again,choking out a«Yes.»like she was trying to not cry.

«Then what the fuck do you think you’re doing grinding on me like that?»he spits out.

A rush of shame filled her body that consumed her whole.This wasn’t her,this wasn’t the girl her grandmother raised.Why was she doing that?She hadn’t even noticed,too focused on that slight spark of pleasure she felt with each rock of her hips.

«I’m sorry,my prince.»Y/n sobbed out,never in her life she had felt like that«I just feel really weird right now.I don’t know what’s wrong with me.»she answered quietly,feeling tears burn at the back of her eyes again.The ache between her legs stayed persistent and she felt lost without the release her body craved for the first time.

Daemon was living for all of this,his eyes taking in every single moment,every single inch of her shaking figure«It’s alright little bird,nothing is wrong with you.»he reassured her with a mocking tone«You just can’t help it,can you?»he asked with a low voice that made her shiver.

Y/n nodded as she felt her lips tremble,unable to speak properly,her core clenching at the petname Daemon gave her.She stared at him and he smiled,the look on his face made her ache and feel all sticky and needy.

«You can’t help but want to rub that pretty pussy all over something,yes?»he taunted, leaning down to kiss her neck,gently licking and sucking at the sensitive skin.She whimpered and nodded vigorously,hoping he understands, hoping he’ll help her like he promised.

«Daemon»she pleaded with a broken voice,his name passing through her hot mouth like that made him groan.

«When you fuck yourself on my hand,does it make you feel better?Does it feel so good that you just want to do it all over again?»he teased, feeling her legs tightening over his arm.

Y/n head was spinning,a soft murmur of«Yes!»escaped her lips as he begins to move his hand up and down,the friction rubbing against her swollen clit through her panties.

«Do you know why it feels so good?»he asked her,close to her ear,tenderly biting her lobe.He didn’t waited for an answer,she was just too stupid at the moment to even understand his words«Because you are taking something you shouldn’t be wanting.That’s how they controlled you,telling you that this was wrong.But with me you will understand that you can have everything that you desire and more.»he panted on her skin.

«Please,Daemon,i want it all»Y/n whimper loud, holding onto his chest as she rides his fingers.

His dick hardens,and even he becomes unwilling to deny his pleasure any longer.His free hand travelled up her stomach to her chest,his thumb find place on her right nipple, squeezing gently as his other hand forces her hips to move faster.

«That’s it.Take what you need little bird.»he grunts,and not even seconds later she was moaning his name,mouth gaping and whining about how good it feels.

«Somethings happening»Y/n cried out,rubbing faster and faster until a sharp pleasure stopped her,blinding her eyes and exploding her insides in a fit of ecstasy.

Daemon groaned,eyeing the wet spot now formed on his pants,coming in his pants untouched,before taking a look at her face.Y/n already look so fucked out its adorable that she thought it’s over so soon.«Good birdy came so pretty for me.»he smiled,bringing her face in for a messy kiss.

It was her first kiss,his hot tongue making it way inside her hot mouth and his teeth biting her swollen red lips with such hunger.She felt weird,her legs were trembling and her eyes were fighting the urge to close,that blissful feeling still present on her sweaty skin.

«Felt so good.»Y/n whimpered out,laying her tired body over his.

Daemon caressed her damp hair«Will you let me teach help you?Teach you other things that will make you feel even better?»he whispered.

It made her shiver for how much she wanted it,how much she was angry for his touch now that she had just a small taste.The thought that she liked it,loved every seconds of it,that she craved to always feel like in that moment scared her.But it was a good kinda of fear that she didn’t know it could existed.The fear to not know what he could to her,that he was married and she was about to be married,and that any one could enter at any moment,exited her so much.

«Yes.»Y/n answered quietly,closing her eyes and feeling the grin forming on his beautiful face now that he finally had what he wanted.

It happened four months ago,the night where Daemon picked Y/n flower,the most purest and delicate thing,her virtue,without caring of the fence that was suppose to separate her garden from his.

During those longs,pleasant four months Daemon made her discover a whole new world.A different reality painted with vivid and luscious colors that he made her feel every night,teaching her how to please a man but most importantly how to please herself.Learning how to understand her body,to take care of it and that she was the one in charge of herself.

Aemma was eight months pregnant now and everything was ready for welcoming the new babe and heir to the throne.Maester Mellos told Y/n,while she was assisting her older sister,that from the way the future Queen was carrying it was suppose to be a boy much to Viserys happiness.

Like every morning the young princess was getting ready to have breakfast with her sister and to spent the rest of the day in her company.It didn’t bother her much,she loved her sister more than anything and she understood that right now she was in such a delicate moment of her life and she needed her presence close to her.Plus she always had the hour of the owl to be in Daemon bed,tangled in his warm silky sheets with his hands and mouth all over her.

But that morning was different,something was in the salty air,the cold breeze hitting the skin of her bare arms while she walked through the empty hallways with a rapid pace.Daemon had been away for two weeks and now he was finally back,asking for her as soon as he landed on the beach of Dragon Stone.It was Viserys who sent him away,after one of his guards had saw the rouge prince coming out from their cousin chambers one early morning.

Viserys and Y/n had always been closer growing up,he was not like his brother.He preferred her company,staying beside her during the longs hours of studying and reading history and philosophy.Enthralling her with tales of their ancestors and his days and Balerion last rider.And now that he was married to Aemma,she became officially a younger sister for him too.He had to protect her,to keep her and her virtue safe from his brother dirty hands,no one would had married her if they knew of her meetings with him.

Y/n was wearing a beautiful cherry red dress,Daemon favorite color on her,her pale blonde hair were free on her back while two golden ribbons were tied on the top of her head.Her hands were clammy,she had to smother them down her gown a few times,while a nauseous feeling was forming in her stomach till the back of her throat.

It was clear,all over her pretty and heated face,that she missed him more than anything.That the moment she would’ve see him again,he would’ve feel like a breath of fresh air.One of the first thing that Daemon had told her on one of their first secret encounters,was that all of this,all the things they were doing,had nothing to do with feelings.Only the feelings related to their bodies,the passion,the hunger,the lust were allowed,everything else needed to stay outside the bedroom.

He was right of course,Y/n took all that came out from his mouth like pure gold.He was the one kind and thoughtful enough to land her his hand and help her out,he was the one with experience not her,so he had to be right again.

«Thank you for accompanying me,Annora.»the young princess said with a quiet whisper«Make sure that no one will come in.»she continued looking around,thankfully everything was clear.

Her handmaiden was the only one who knew about her secret,and it was even thanks to her that Y/n could sneak off to see her lover«Of course,my princess.But remember that you have to see your sister later in the morning.»she murmured politely,slightly bowing her head.

«I do remember.Don’t worry,i’ll be quick.»Y/n reassured her with a gentle smile.

One last look at the empty hallway,the young princess smoothed her gown down with her sweaty hands.Suddenly her heart was beating so fast that she thought it might escape from her chest.Her legs were trembling and her hair didn’t seem so beautifully styled like a moment ago.

«How do i look?»Y/n asked turning around again with a thin voice and worried eyes.

Daemon had this effect on her,a nauseous feeling was threatening her guts and excitement was making her skin tingle.She wanted to be just perfect,a beautiful sight for him to look at.He was the first one who ever did that,he looked at her like there’s was something interesting in her figure.

Her handmaiden smiled softly«Like the most precious jewel,my princess.»she reassured her.

Nodding her head and taking a deep breath,Y/n opened the heavy wooden door and closed it behind her back shutting Annora and the rest of the world out.In that very moment,in the cold throne room of Dragon Stone,there’s was only the two of them.

The place was silent,from the windows glasses a few rays of light brightened the dark area making it look like some spectral painting.The throne was carved in the cold stone,raw and stiff,at the end of the room.

Daemon was sitting there,upon the bleak seat,his long legs crossed and his weight shifted to the right armrest.His pale hair were long on his broad shoulders,some of them tied up behind his head to not made them get in the way.His face was so majestically beautiful,carved by the most talented of the gods,blessing him with those beautiful rosy lips and cheekbones.

Even with the dim light,Y/n could’ve see the mischievous gleam in his purple eyes trailing down her body,licking his lips like he was tasting her again and again in his mind.

Walking slowly towards him,the princess tried to cover her trembling hands behind her back and the smile on her excited face«What are you doing there,cousin?»she asked,her tongue rolling around the Valyrian words that were coming out her mouth.

She had learned the language alongside her ancestors history with Viserys when she was just a small child,but she only spoken it in her lover presence.

«I’m sitting.This could be my chair one day.»Daemon explained,his voice turned an octave lower when he spoke the foreign language.It made her shiver and he knew that.

She smiled,the little sound of her footsteps coming closer to him echoed between the stone walls«Not if you are executed for treason.»she stated,with a teasing tone that made him chuckle«You’ve been away for two weeks and all that you thought about was becoming the next ruling prince of Dragon Stone?»she asked,scrutinizing his face now that she was in front of him.

Daemon had a little smirk on his face and she wanted to slap it off his handsome face.The disappointed was thick under her skin,and while her heart ached her head was calling her stupid in all the languages in the world.While she had filled her days without him thinking about how much she missed his touch,the taste of her lips,his warm skin he probably didn’t even wasted a single second to remember that she was waiting for him at home.

«I thought of becoming the heir of the throne.My brother wants to host a tournament in my honor soon»he told her,passing a hand down his chin,his eyes never leaving her features.

Y/n had spent the last two weeks not only with her sister but also with her older cousin,Viserys.She had listened to him about how sure he was that his heir,a little prince,was in the royal womb of his wife and as soon as the new months would start,a big tournament was to be host in his honor.

«The tournament is for his son,that will be here by the end of the summer.»she corrected him,a sharp tone just like her eyes that followed all of his movements.

Daemon stood up,with two long strides he was now in front of her.He smelled like his dragon,of burnt and destruction,and looked like the most beautiful sin she ever had the pleasure to commit in her life.

«I brought you something.»he said changing the topic and switching to the Westerosi language in a low voice,with his right hand he searched in pocket.

A beautiful necklace was dangling in front of her eyes,delicate steely gray color with a gorgeous pendant that looked like a flower decorated with red rubies«How beautiful.»Y/n breathed out.

Her hands traced the small details with the tip of her fingers«Do you know what it is?»Daemon asked,snatching the necklace away before she could take it.

It made her jump a bit«It’s Valyrian steel.Like Dark Sister.»she answered,showing him how educated she was.

He nodded,remaining quiet for a few seconds«Turn around.»he demanded with a firm voice.

As always,she followed his order immediately.Holding her hair up and giving him free access to her neck,heat was rising,the warm feeling of his finger tracing the delicate skin and the cold metal of the necklace made her burn on the spot.It was incredible the power he has over her,mind and body included.It was like nothing in her belonged to herself,only to him her thoughts wandered about,only to him her muscles would respond.

«I also thought about you while i was in Leng.»Daemon breathed in his ear,his hands moving up and down her arms making her shiver.

Y/n was still not facing him,her back was a millimeter away from his broad chest«You did?»she sounded surprised,but in her voice that was a hint of relief.

He let out a dry laugh,she felt a little embarrassed,like he was making fun of her«I always think about you.»he said.

It wasn’t true,or if he did it wasn’t like Y/n did always thought about him.He was not hers,but sometimes she pretended that he wish he was.She created this idea,inside her little head,that he secretly wanted her in that loving and caring way that she craved so much for him to do.And she often forget that’s it just something that she made up,he’s not hers and he doesn’t want her.

But even with that thought plugging her head,Y/n wanted him.Daemon was her definition of desire.She didn’t knew how engulfing his flames would’ve been or if she would’ve survived them,but she didn’t care.The only thing that could bring her to life were his lips,his hands,his touch.She would follow him next time that he would go away,she would follow him till the end of the world if he asked her,just to have another moment with him.In that moment all that she knew is that she had missed him and nothing else made sense till she was in his arms again.This is what felt like to fall and not care were you land.

«Tell me please.»Y/n whimpered desperately,closing her eyes.

Suddenly she was yanked backwards,her shoulders collided with his solid chest,the contact taking the breath away from her lungs.Daemon chin came down to rest on her left shoulder,his lips millimeters from her ear«You want me to say it?»he whispered,she nodded«Fine,i’ll say it.I want you.I fucking wanted you during that two weeks away and i do now.»she gasped,feeling the hard length against her butt and she knew that he wasn’t lying.

As a thrill shoot up her spine,Daemon twisted her around and his mouth crashed down on hers.His lips were soft but the movements were rough,tongues and teeth against each other,as his hands mad their way from her waist till the back of her neck from preventing her to move away.

«I missed you»Y/n let out a shaky breath,his lips mapping the pure skin of her cheeks«It’s been too long.»she sounded to pathetic that made him feel bad from laughing internally.

«Look at you»he noticed,ignoring her affection like he always did«You’re sexy as fuck with your innocent words and fuck-me eyes.»still holding her by the nape of her neck,slightly tiling her head backwards,he took a moment to look at her heated up cheeks,glassy eyes and bruised red mouth.

All of this for just a little kissing and a few words,he really made a pathetic little version of herself.

«You still didn’t told me.»Y/n reminded him,squeezing her eyes a bit and breathing heavily through her nose.

«You want to know what i thought about?»Daemon asked raising a brow.

«Yes.»she answered immediately.

«I don’t want to scare you,little bird.»he started«But if you let me,i’d strip you naked.Then i’d take one of those ribbons you always wear on your head and tie your wrist together.»he squeezed them for emphasis.

Y/n body flushed at the imagine he was putting in her head.She loved when he told her what he wanted to do with her,knowing that she would let him without the blink of an eye«Then what?»she asked again,he knows it too.

«I’d kiss you everywhere.Make you come with my fingers,then my mouth.»he kissed her again,slow and sensual«What do you want me to do?»he teased her,asking it to her now,kissing along her jaw and down her neck.

If he didn’t knew her better,with the list full look in her eyes,she wanted him to fuck of eat her«Unzip me.»she pleaded,forcing his hands behind her back to take the too tight dress off her immediately.

He chuckled between the kisses,savoring the sweet perfume of her skin and the delicious texture«Right here?»he asked,already knowing the answer.

Y/n nodded immediately,her heart was hammering in her chest and she could feel a second heartbeat pulsating in between her legs.She squeezed her thighs together to create some sort of friction,a little relief from the aching wet desire that made her a soaking mess in her most private parts.Daemon didn’t even had to touch there,just few crude and dirty words were enough to bend her at his will.

It scared her a bit,during those four months,she felt like the little troublesome girl that used to follow him everywhere,to do anything right just to have his attention,his approval,his praises.Before Daemon could untie her red dress,the wooden door across the throne room opened,a servant girl rushed in with the chilly breeze of the morning.

«My princess,my prince»Annora was breathing heavily,her cheeks were red from embarrassment«I apologize from my interruption,but prince Viserys is coming this way!»she informed them with a quick bow,fidgeting with her hands.

Y/n hair were still messy after being pulled and twisted between Daemon fingers.Her long eyelashes were wet with little droplets of tears,while her lips were red and bruised from all the hungry kisses that they shared.Even her dress was crumpled and the necklace on her pretty neck would’ve been difficult to hide with the neckline.

Daemon was still holding her close,his fingers burning through the fabric of her dress while he whispered in her ear«Fly away,my little bird.I’ll come to you tonight,make sure to wear only this necklace.»

With wobbly legs and a shaky breath,Y/n was walking faster that she could through the corridors of the castle.Her mind was still clouded with the imagine that Daemon had poisoned her with just few moments ago.The spark of desire was still flickering inside her as she made her way towards her older sister chambers.

«Ah,Y/n finally.»her sister greeted her as soon as she saw her coming in.

Aemma was sitting,or better,laying on a duvet right by the window and the morning light of the sun was bathing her in all its warmth.Her blonde hair were braided in a loosen braid that was resting on her right shoulder.Her pale face was tired,worn out by another sleepless night that was visible thanks to the dark circles under her eyes.Her heavy body was wrapped in a light azure nightgown,her swollen belly caressed carefully by her hand like it was going to explode at any moment.

But even though that,her eyes remained kind and a sweet smile was present on her face,her expression light in up when she saw her younger sister.The room was warm and empty,only the sweet intimacy for the two of them,filled with the pale smoke of incense that fluttered in the air creating abstract figures,and smelled with the creamy essence of flowers.

«Good morrow,your grace.»Y/n smiled,bowing her head.In her words a hint of teasing as she tried to suppress a little laugh.

Aemma rolled her eyes«Come and take a seat,you are late.»she made her notice,but her voice remained calm even though the annoyed look on her face.

The young princess did as her sister told her,sitting in the empty chair in front of her and the round table filled with the most delicious meals she could had asked for.Strawberry and lemon cakes,milk bread,butter biscuits,fresh fruits and warm tea.A nutrient and tasty breakfast like every morning,but this time with just the smell of her favorite sweetness,Y/n felt her stomach turn.

«I apologize.»she started,cleaning her hands with a napkin after she forcefully swallowed a bite of lemon cake«I was taking a fly,enjoying the weather outside like you should do.»she lied,she had also had to drink a big sip of cold milk,but the nausea was still present in her stomach.

Aemma took a deep breath,giving a little bite to the butter biscuit,it seemed that she had already started to eat before her sister came in«You know that Viserys doesn’t want me to move around and that i don’t like when you go to fly on that thing when i’m in this conditions»she said with an apprensive tone.

Her older sister was the only motherly figure that Y/n had ever looked up to,even though she had their grandmother raising her,Aemma was the one she always felt safe with,protected and understood.It was normal for the older one to take care of her,making sure that she was fine and nothing would’ve happened to her,that’s why she was still a bit salty about the fact that her little sister decided to claim a dragon and ride it whenever she had the occasion.

Y/n nodded«You don’t like me to go flying in any of your conditions.»she reminded her,all the time that they bickered about that topic.

«And yet,you still do.»Aemma complained,adjusting herself on the duvet.

«Do not worry,i’m fine.Did you sleep?»Y/n asked changing the topic of the conversation,her voice sounded muffled by the the cup pressed on her lips.

Her sister nodded,she looked very tired«I slept.»she sighed,caressing her big belly.

«How long?»the youngest said,on her face an expression of pure worry to witness her sister in such a tiredness but dutifully state.

«I don’t need mothering,Y/n.»Aemma tilted her head a bit on the soft pillow to take a better look of her younger sister,especially of the shiny necklace that adorned her pale neck.

Y/n put down her cup on the table«Isn’t this the reason you wanted me here with you?»she asked.

«I wanted you here to witness what you will be awaiting very soon.»her sister started,she sounded just like their grandmother,talking about their duty«One day you will be laying on a bed like this,serving the real like you are supposed to.»she told her with sour smile on her face.

Y/n felt like throwing up,her throat was burning and instinctively she placed a hand on her neck,playing with the cold steel.She had months,the one that her father granted her,to get used to the idea that in less than one she probably would end up like her sister.She had years of education that had prepared her for that moment,but she wasn’t ready.Not now that she finally had Daemon attention,if it was him she would’ve been the perfect wife,the most loving mother for their children.But she knew that this wasn’t part of their agreement,he didn’t wanted her for that.While she dreamed of a happy fairytale with her prince in shining armor,he was probably thinking about finding a new woman to satisfy him once she would become the Lady of Winterfell.

«I know what my duty is.»Y/n said,her eyes set low on the window watching the free birds flying away like she wished to do«It’s just-»

«It’s just they will not be his heirs you will be carrying,not him the man you are promised to.»Aemma whispered,and even thought her words were quiet they sounded like a million of broken glasses shattering inside her sister head.

Aemma always had the ability,the power to read her sister like a book.With just a look,she could tell everything that was going on inside her head,her fears,her hopes,every thought that revolves around him.

«I do not care or think about him.What happened the last month was just a misunderstanding-»Y/n started,now her eyes were glassy,shining under the sun light and her lower lip was trembling a bit.

«You think you got everybody fooled,don’t you?»her sister asked,she had sympathetic expression on her face«Well,you can’t fool me.I’ve known you for far too long and i can tell that,not matter how much you try to hide it,you care more about him than yourself.»she stated,talking quietly.

Her sister knew,even though she had never told her,she was aware of the situation.The secret meetings under the pale moonlight,the stolen glances,the lingering touches,the way Y/n had opened her heart once again to him.

«Y/n,he’s married and you are about to be.What were you thinking when you let Daemon toy with your mind like that?»Aemma didn’t sounded mad but disappointed,just like when her husband had informed her that his brother was in her sister chambers that one morning.

Y/n was playing,fidgeting with her fingers till blood came out from her fingertips.Swallowing the lump in her throat she didn’t had yet the courage to look in her sister eyes«I guess…that i thought that eventually he’d choose me.Asking for my hand and all of that.»she murmured.

Aemma hummed,shifting again to coming closer to her sister figure«Do you love him?»

Y/n stood there for a moment,the words still echoing in the room.In her mind she had ask herself that a million of times and she answered,but it was a totally different thing to say it out loud«I think i do.»she said with a broken voice.

She felt ashamed under her sister gaze,like she was naked and they didn’t have anymore that kind of intimacy anymore.She didn’t just failed her father who did everything to find her a good and suitable husband,her sister who was suppose to light her the right path to follow and herself to be naive enough to let herself fall in love with someone she shouldn’t have.

«Does he loves you?»her sister asked this time.

«Sometimes,in his own ways»Y/n answered.

It was the truth.He may did not loved her like she loved him,but Daemon did certainly loved the attention she gave him,the fact that she was there for him,that she would drop anything for him and that he was the only one who had such a strong grip on her.And it was enough,for her wanting was enough,living with the hope that one day he would’ve started to look at her under a different light and love her just like she did.

Her sister took a deep breath,closed her eyes for a moment then she took the napkin on the table a took Y/n hands in hers«Is this worth it?You have to be honest with me and yourself.»she started to explain,cleaning her sister fingertips affectionately«Whoever you want on your side has to be worth it,so is he?»she asked again,her hands were warms and gave Y/n a nostalgic feeling.

Sometime she wished that they were still the little girls who played with dolls together,that slept in the same bed during a thunderstorm of after a bad dream,that braided each other hair and didn’t had a single worried though about the life ahead.

«Yes.»Y/n lied,her eyelashes were wet and her nose was burning from keeping in the urge to cry.

«I’ll see what i can do.I will talk to our father and Viserys»Aemma informed her«Daemon marrige wasn’t consumed,so i think-»before she could finish,her younger sister thrown her arms around her neck.

Y/n was on her knees on the wooden floor,she had carefully brought her sister closer to her and now she was crying in her safe embrace,shaking and sobbing quietly while Aemma was caressing her back lovingly«You would do this for me?»

«There is nothing i wouldn’t do for you.»

Y/n had waited for him that night just like she had promised him.After spending the rest of the morning lulled in between her sister arms and the evening flying around with her dragon,Dreamfyre,to avoid Viserys lecture,she set up all pretty in her bedroom.

As soon as the sun went down and the moon took it place,shining with pale rays in the dark sky,her lover made his way to her.Daemon had found her with all her beauty exposed to him,her soft and silky skin smelled like roses,her flat stomach and perky breast thr sweetest invitation.Her bare legs were shaking while she was sitting on her knees on the soft mattress of her bed,her delicious thighs quivering under his hungry gaze.

Y/n had longed all day to feel his lips on her neck,his fingers tracing her shoulder blades.Bites and kisses down her back,but mostly she had missed the feeling of him,of his weight on top of her.

Daemon took her by the wrist,tying them together with one of the golden ribbons she had in her hair and held her arms down to the bed.He leaned over and kissed her,hard.Then looking at her straight in the eyes,he made one thing perfectly clear and the biggest mistake he could’ve done that night«You are mine.»he said in Valyrian,biting and nibbling her bottom lip.

Y/n mind clouded with pure lust«I’m yours.»she panted,her heart was racing furiously in her heavy chest.

She searched her hands clawed for a handhold on the white sheets as he took her,after manhandling her on her hands and knees and shoving her crying face into the pillow.Daemon wound his hand in her hair and pulled her back,her mouth open in a soundless scream,an airless breath.She had no thought in the moment,she could only feel.

The next morning with the first lights of the sunrise,the golden rays filling the room with warmth,Daemon was still there.Laying in on his back in her bed,his eyes were closed and the sheets were covering his pale and toned body from his waist down.He felt the soft warm weight of her breast,the heat irradiating from her smooth skin,against his chest and the soft touch of her hand on the stubble of his cheek.

It was moments like this,the soft and intimate time that they shared,that scared him the most.When he realized that he fucked everything up,he had a clear and specific plan in his mind but her beautiful eyes,her joyful smile,her stubbornness and good heart ruined everything.Normally he wouldn’t think twice about taking what he wanted,without asking for permission and without looking at anyone in the face.

The night before,right after dinner,Daemon had a small chat with his older brother.Viserys had took him outside,walking together under the stars and on the calm and empty shore«Aemma and i talked quiet a lot this evening.»his brother started,kicking away with his feet little stones on the sand.

Daemon only hummed,a light groan while he nodded without adding anything«I can give you my blessing,so that your affairs will not damage her reputation even more.»Viserys said with a tone that didn’t suited a King to be,but a brother tired of the situation.

«There is no need»Daemon spoke«Y/n is a princess,no one will question her virtue.»he wouldn’t care about that,he never did.

Viserys stopped on his tracks,his face was turning red and his tiredness into anger.He had already plenty of things to think about and of course his brother,being without a limit,would’ve find a way to become another problem for him to solve.

«You need to take your responsibility!You are not a child anymore and you can’t just use her at your liking!»Viserys outraged,pointing a finger on his younger brother chest.

«She surely doesn’t complain about it.»Daemon informed him,chuckling between himself«You should hear her when she begs me to-»

He wasn’t drunk,maybe a bit tipsy after drinking all the fine wife he had brought from Leng,but when Viserys harshly grabbed him and shoved him down on the cold sand,he didn’t had the time to react.Daemon had find himself tackled to the ground,couching after his back landed and the breath was kicked out of his chest.

Viserys was never a fighter,he certainly would’ve never won against his younger brother,but his affection,the way he cared for his little cousin and the rage blinding before his eyes didn’t stopped him«I’ll always been too good to you and so she was.I’ll give you two options:you stay here,married to her and taking care of her or you will leave her alone.»he ordered,hovering over him with a stern tone.

«She wants me to be a better man and that’s mean i can’t be who i am»Daemon said out loud,his voice was thin as the soft breeze.«As soon as your wife will deliver your heir,she will be gone from my life.I won’t follow or search for her.»he continued,his eyes were heavy and a burning sensation was making it difficult to breath.

It was the first time he had admitted it out loud,the scary shadow of not being enough for her,of not wanting to be what she deserved had appeared so many moons ago.But it never stopped him from taking what he wanted from her,he wasn’t a good man,he had killed people and now he was slowly killing her too.And he knew that,and the fact that he was too selfish to care was the pure demonstration that he needed to leave her alone before it was too late.

Viserys got up a little,sitting on his sandy knees he looked at his brother with disgust and pity«You had played with her enough.»he said,his words harsh as a dagger«You will leave tomorrow morning.»he informed him.

Now,in the first hours of the morning,Daemon was still laying in her bed«Don’t stare at me.»he murmured with his eyes still closed,he could feel her loving gaze tracing his features.

Y/n had a smile growing on her face while her cheeks heated up«I’m not staring»she pouted defending herself,her chin was prompted on his chest«I’m just admiring you.»she informed him with a sleepy voice.

Daemon groaned,covering his face with his left arm«That’s creepy.»

She gasped,like she was pretending to be offended«It’s romantic.»she corrected him immediately,leaving a small kiss on his jaw.

He opened his eyes,beautiful purple looking down at her like two precious stones but the rarest one it was her«Good morning.»he breathed out,even thought he was awake from few hours now he sounded tired.

Y/n was laying on top of him,only a few inches away,in all her beauty and the innocence that he had stolen from her once again written all over her body.Her hair were a tangled mess of silver strands,from all the pulling of the night before,on her thighs and rib cage purple bruises blossomed on the delicate skin like flowers but the imagine of his palms and fingers.

Daemon never saw a more beautiful thing in his life,his heart ached in chest while he was tracing them with his fingertips«Does it hurt?»he asked then,massaging the soft flesh.

Y/n shook her head immediately«I like them.»

«You liked them?»he chuckled,not really surprised by her immediate answer.

«They prove that i’m yours.»she murmured quietly,looking down to avoid the truth in his eyes.

Maybe,Daemon thought often,there’s was a version of this world where he could’ve been a good man for her.A warm and sunny place,where people there were always happy and pain didn’t exsisted.Where he was man enough,a proper one that could be a suitable husband for her.Other times instead he thought that it was her fault,why was she so sweet to him even after he made clear that he didn’t care about her in that way?Why was she so stubborn ?What did she saw in him,so special that was worth to fall in love with?

Without an answer from him,Y/n got up a little,now sitting on the mattress and covering her chest with the blanket«I talked to my sister yesterday and she could help us.»her throat was dry,her voice just a whisper as the fear of his rejection took control of her body.

Daemon closed his eyes for a moment,just few seconds ago they were enjoying each other presence.Tangled in white sheets and their passion,for an outsider they could looked like normal married couple that was spending the morning together,but there’s was so many more to see.

«I talked to Viserys and we had an agreement for this situation.»he informed her,getting up from the bed he walked naked till the chair where his clothes were sitting.«I will fly est after breakfast.»he continued,putting on his shirt.

He had other plans,he would’ve waited till she was in her sister chambers like every morning to leave without saying a word to her.He knew that she would’ve hated him,thinking that he had decided that she wasn’t good enough for him anymore without telling her why or without a goodbye.

Y/n followed him with her eyes full of hopes,her chest quivering as her heart was racing furiously«Where a we going?»she asked,fighting the smile that was growing on her face.

Aemma really did the miracle,Y/n thought.Could she finally had the man who had her heart since she was a child?Could she finally have her fairytale,being happy with him forever?It felt like a dream coming true,all the times that she had to remember to herself that this wasn’t going to last,all the agonizing pain she went through knowing the would never be hers sounded like a distant memory.

But Daemon was quick to burst down her bubble,the perfect little world that she had created in her head was just a mere illusion.A stupid and comforting lie that she lived in.

«I’ll go to Pentos,you’ll stay here.»he told her,sitting down to wear his boots.

«You are right.»Y/n stated and for a brief moment he hoped that she understood the situation«I have to stay here with my sister till the babe is born.But you will come and get me after so that we can get-»she was talking too fast for his liking,giving him a headache.

Daemon interrupted her immediately,taking a deep breath«Y/n,let me make things clear so that even your little brain could get them:there is no us.There is me,who will go to Pentos,and then there is you,who will marry Lord Stark.»his words were like a sharp slap in the face.

But what hurt the most was that just for a brief moment,she had left herself be stupid enough,blind enough to think that maybe,deep down,he wanted her just as much as she did.

She felt vulnerable under his gaze,instinctively she brought her knees up to her chest covering herself more«B-But you said…you said that you had agreed with him.»she tried so hard to keep the desperate cry in,tears were pushing behind her eyes,her throat and nose burning.

Daemon let out a sight,passing a hand upon his tired face«You had also agreed with me to not get romantically involved with this.»he spat out,breathing through his nose.

«I know»she said with a tiny voice,she looked just like a small child«But i thought-»she wanted to explain.

He cut her off immediately«No,you didn’t thought.As always you are too dumb for that and you had to ruin this.»he was being mean on purpose,it would made it easier for him to let go knowing that she hated him.

Y/n face was red,hot tears were streaming down her beautiful face,her sad missed the magical sparkle that they used to had whenever she looked at him«Forgive me for my love.Forgive me for ruining you with my love.»she sobbed out.

Even in that moment she was blaming herself,not him and it made him even more furious «You are so pathetic.For gods sake,i can’t believe that i had wasted my time on you.»he thought out loud.

Her shoulders were shaking,just like the hand that was still holding the covers up her chest«Then what are you still doing here?Just leave me alone if i was such a waste of time!»she screamed with a broken voice.

Daemon heart slowed a bit,even though it had all started as a way to spend his time,even though she was just an hobby in the beginning of everything,he had grown very fond of her presence.It felt nice,warm and comforting like a blanket,having her on his side at the end of the day.To see her smile because of him,to feel her safe enough around him to reveal him her deepest fears and her most treasured dreams.

«With pleasure.»he dryly answered,turning around without a second look in her direction.

With the sound of the door closing behind him,Y/n swore that she heard her heart shattering in her chest and the urge of throwing up rising up her throat.Sliding down the bed like a worm,she hovered her bedpan letting go of everything that she had held inside,that horrible nauseous feeling that she had growing up in her stomach for the past week.

She really looked pathetic,watching herself in the long length mirror beside her bed just to see a delusional and idiotic little girl that never learns her lessons.Naked and stinking of vomit,with shaky hands she ripped of the necklace that seemed to burn her skin before harshly throwing it away somewhere in the room.

«Stupid»she scolded herself,brining again her knees to her chest.

Just a few moments later,the door opened again and the sound of hurried footsteps coming closer«Princess!»Annora voice sounded out of breath,her gentle face was pale and worried.

«I’m alright,Annora.»Y/n said,drying her cheeks and red eyes with the back of her hand«I just wish to be left alone.»she continued clearing her throat.

But Annora expression didn’t changed a bit«I’m afraid that you’ll have to come with me,my princess.»the handmaiden suggested.

«And why is that?»Y/n asked.

The next words made her heart drop in her stomach:«Princess Aemma is in labour.»

A moment of happiness,gods a whole moment of happiness was really too much for her to ask?Why the world was so harsh on her?It was beyond her understanding,but nature worked like this sometimes.

Nature does not ask for permission,it had nothing to do with her wishes and wether she liked her it laws or disliked them,she was bound to accept them as it was and consequently all the conclusions.

It had been a week since Aemma,her older sister,had died alongside her child,a girl that she wanted to name after Y/n.

The young princess had rushed to her side,wearing only a nightgown and kneeling besides her bed.Her sister looked sick,a trembling pale shell of herself«It’s too soon,my baby won’t survive!»she had cried,holding her younger sister hand.

Y/n felt the world crumbling completely under her,she had to fought the urge to desperately crying out and screaming till her lungs would had given out.But she had to be the strong one for both of them,only Aemma could cry and being scared.Not her,Y/n had to be there to comfort her.

«It’s alright»Y/n lied with a heavy breath,placing a loving kiss on her sister sweaty forehead«This one is just eager to be with us.»she reassured her.

It was a lie,her sister was eight months pregnant and the Maester had whispered into her ear that there was high chances that both of them wouldn’t survive.So it was,Aemma had lost so much blood and her daughter was so small and fragile when Y/n took a look at the little creature wrapped in the white cloth.

A week later,after she saw her sister and niece lifeless bodies being burned by Dreamfyre,respecting the Targaryen tradition,she just wanted to close herself in her room but she couldn’t.

The funeral took place outside the castle,on one of the green hills that overlooked the sea.It was quiet,sunny day as everyone gathered around the pyre.Y/n had her hair tied up,the peaceful breeze hitting her wet and delicate rosy cheeks,stained with tears.She was wearing a long black dress while,between her fingers she held her sister ring,a golden one with the Arryn banner on it.

It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one.Y/n knew that time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of the people that she cared for will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone so close,someone that she hoped would’ve always been there for her. Aemma death felt like walking up the stairs to her bedroom in the dark,and thinking there is one more stair than there is.Y/n foot falls down, through the air,and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as she was trying and readjust the way she thought of things.

Everything around was silent,only the sniffling sound of choked sobs and the waves crushing down the shore.No one dared to move,not her father,who came immediately after his younger daughter had sent the most heartbreaking news of his life.Not the hand of the king,Ser Otto Hightower who came to express his condolences in the name of King Jaehaerys.Not Viserys,who was only a few steps from her,in a dark cloak,it was a miracle that he was still able to stand on his one two feet.

«They are waiting for you.»from behind her,in a quiet whisper,Daemon was only a few inches away from her with his head down and his tongue rolling around every Valyrian word.

Y/n let out a shaky breath,he had decided to stay,just for the mourning time,but it didn’t changed nothing between them«Do you think that he would’ve be happy to have a daughter?»she asked,her tired glassy eyes looking at her niece lifeless body.

She remembered how Aemma was worried about the idea of being incapable of deliver a heir.But she knew that both her sister and her husband would’ve loved her and took care of her,if only things were different.

She felt Daemon coming closer,his hand were warm on her back giving her support«Viserys needs you now,more that he ever had.»he said,caressing her shaky figure.

Y/n shook her head,forcing out a choked sob«I can’t be my sister.»holding the ring close to her lips.

She had heard the whispers,saw stolen glances,the apologetics expression and forced smiles sent her way.Just the day after her sister lost,she had spent all of her time on Viserys side.

«The world is very quiet now that she is not around.»she stated,sitting next to him in his chambers.

It was the truth,Aemma took everything that was most beautifull in the world with her.

Viserys eyes were lost somewhere on the floor,it seemed that he had already finished his tears«I know that she is gone,but her absence is killing me.I wish I could’ve help her-»his voice was dry and trembling.

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat,caressing his back lovingly«You did everything that you could.Sometimes thing are simply bigger than us.»she tried to comfort him.

She had to be the stronger one in this situation too,Viserys was her first real friend and now he needed her support«Perhaps you’re right.»he sniffled«I just wished that they wouldn’t be feasting on my wife and daughter dead bodies,pushing me to marry again already.»he murmured with a broken tone.

King Jaehaerys health declined very fast in the past few months,to the point where the monarch couldn’t get out of bed.Ser Otto,his hand,was already planning to find a suitable wife for the new King,suggesting Y/n. As the first option,she had only heard it from her father chambers but it wasn’t official yet.

«We were always meant to say goodbye,weren’t we?»she asked with a hand placed on her stomach,she didn’t noticed that she had started to cry again.

Daemon cleared his throat,his eyes were burning«Yeah.I think so.»

A sour smile on Y/n face«I loved you though.I really did.»she admitted without shame this time.

A pause,only the wind was heard before he breathed out«I know.Sometimes i did it too.»

A week later Y/n laid under her covers,refusing to eat or to see anyone.She smelled,not taking a bath in days,her face was worn out,from her red and puffy eyes not a single tears could come out anymore.A small hand caressing her stomach,an ironic and bittersweet laugh stuck in the back of her throat.

The same day that she had lost a life,she had found out that one was growing inside of her.The moment her sister had closed her eyes forever and she saw the pained and desperate expression on Viserys face,he who was holding his dead daughter to his chest,Y/n felt her body betraying her.

She fainted,collapsing on the cold floor and waking up moments later in her chambers,laying on her bed with a heavy head and an empty heart«What happened?»she had asked confused.

Annora was the only one present in the room,she was sniffing and her eyes were glued on the ground«You fainted,princess»the Maester informed her,sitting on a chair next to her bed.

Y/n tried to get up,throwing the covers away from her body«I don’t care.I need to be with my sister»she cried out,stumbling on her feet.

«My princess»Annora said carefully,catching her in time«Maybe you should sit down and listen to what the Maester have to say.»she told her with a tender voice.

«What is it?»Y/n asked,she just wanted to run outside her room and never come back.

«You are with a child,princess.»Maester Mellos had told her with an apologetic smile.

Laying under the warm covers,the pillow was still wet,dump in all the tears and screams that kept her awake the night before.Her sister dreamed to become a mother since they were little,the idea of taking care of her own small child always had Aemma in ecstasy but right now,the same idea had Y/n wanting to throw up if she had ate something.That’s explained the nauseous feeling in her stomach for the past few weeks.

She didn’t told Daemon,how could she trapped him or hold on to someone who doesn’t want to stay?She wished she could find comfort in the thought that in another universe,in another life, they have their happy ending.Everyone was happy and alive and together.But she could only feel the aching sadness at the realization that they won’t have their happy ending here.

She did told Viserys,one night he came in her chambers.He looked tired,shy and unsure«As the future King i have to marry again in order to have an heir and strength our house.»he started,sitting down her bed and looking straight in her eyes.

Y/n already knew,both her father and Ser Otto had spoken to her about this matter after the funeral«I will take care of you,like i promised to my sister.»she had accepted her fate,still hearing Aemma final wishes in her ears.

Viserys smiled sadly down at her«You will be a good Queen and a fine wife.»he reassured her.

She shook her head,her hand still caressing her belly«What kind of wife ruin her husband reputation with a bastard child?Let alone the King one?»she whimpered out ashamed.

He followed the movements of her hand,playing his warm one on top of hers«Does he know?»he asked with a tender voice,it Viserys,her first friend,her cousin and future husband who was talking,it didn’t surprised her the fact that he wasn’t mad at her.

«No.»she informed him and the man in front of her looked relieved.

«How far are you?»Viserys asked again.

Y/n cleared her throat,sniffling a bit«The Maester said two weeks.»she softly said,two weeks since she had forgot her moon tea.

Nodding«We will get married before the end of the summer»he announced swallowing hard,his next words made them cry in each other arms«And I promise you that this child will be a Targaryen and the heir to my throne.»

Daemon had left one morning.Just few days later of the wedding announcement.Suddenly. Without a warning.Without a goodbye.Or rather a farewell.It was so sudden that she first wondered if he had really existed.A beautiful dream.It must be.She slept too much.But the awakening was brutal.The child in her stomach. A farewell present,she supposed.A son who didn’t look like her.Who looks a little too much like him. A reminder.The dream had indeed existed,but it was never meant to last.He wasn’t hers but losing him broke her heart anyway.

[asherbakugou]

Son of Arrax

King of the Gods, God of Justice, Law, Order, and Governance.

Queen Alicent Hightower stood at the balconey of her apartments – the lavishly furnished Queens Apartments – eyes unfocused as she looked down towards Aemma's Garden, only recently finished by the wrokers sent by Lord Tyrell as a gift to the pregnant Crown Princess. From where she stood she could smell all the different flowers that lined the beautiful garden and surrounded a pavillion carved from the same white stone the Eyrie was made of.

She waited impatiently for news of Princess Rhaenyra's labors, praying to the Seven that she would have a girl, furthering Prince Aegons claim. The skin around her nails was torn to shreds with drops of blood falling to the stone beneath her feet, but she hardly noticed.

Surely King Viserys Targaryen, her husband and Princess Rhaenyra's father, would finally see the craven whore his daughter was after she birthed the bastard of Ser Harwin Strong. He had allowed her to run rampant, giving in to every whim and wish she had. Why just recently he had given her the Heir's apartments! Only slightly smaller than the Kings own apartments and far larger than her own, which was just disrespectful to her, the Queen! Princess Rhaenyra and her heathen husband now had an entire floor within Maegor's Holdfast to themselves and their 'household', while she only had a single corridor filled with rooms!

Aegon deserved to have the Heirs Apartments as the Kings Firstborn, not the Royal Whore of the Red Keep and her Sword-Swallowing husband!

But no matter how many people she told the truth, those who adored Rhaenyra gave her everything. Her Uncle, Prince Daemon the Whoremonger himself sent ships of men, servants, healers, and midwives, an entire household of those he had personally vetted as the letter that had accompanied them had boasted. Alongside those ships were those filled with jewels, cloth of all kinds from Essos, Pentos, and the Free Cities, toys for the babe, furniture of all kinds for Princess Rhaenyra's new Apartments all sent by Lady Laena, Prince Daemons wife.

Lord Corlys was much the same, sending for the most exotic fruits, vegetables, seafood, and meat his money could buy. King Viserys had not only gifted her the Heir's Apartments but everything the Late Queen Aemma had owned from dresses to jewels, leaving her, the true Queen who had done her duty, to buy new ones after all of hers had been taken. It was humiliating to have to buy an entire chest of jewelry!

Lady Jeyne Arryn had also sent gifts, including the stone for the pavilion, such as old items that belonged to Princess Daella Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn. She even sent objects that had once belonged to her grandfather, Rodrick Arryn, much to the shock of everyone.

The entirety of the North had sent her gifts as well, from furs to men, simply out of loyalty and of course the Tyrells had built the princess a garden that was then named after her mother, planting four Weirwood trees in the corners of the garden much to her displeasure.

Fortunately Princess Rhaenys seemed to realize that the child was a bastard and the Baratheons had followed her lead in not interacting with the couple outside of what was deemed respectable. She was oft seen conversing with her son, conversations that ended with him storming away in fury, after the Princess likely tried to convince him of his wifes sins. But the poor man was besotted. No man had ever doted over their wife the way Prince Laenor did.

A quiet knock pulled the Queen from her musings. The door opened allowing Ser Criston Cole, her loyal guard to poke his head inside, "It is Tayla. She says she was sent with word of the Princess' labors."

"Let her in, Ser Criston. I wish to hear the happy news," Queen Alicent stated, tucking her hands behind her back.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Tayla hurried inside waiting for the door to close before speaking. "The Crown Princess has given birth to a boy, Your Grace."

Queen Alicent scowled for only a moment before smoothing her features back out. "Do you know how the Princess fares? Does she suffer the same as her mother, the late Queen, did? And the boy, tell me of his looks? Who does he resemble more, his mother, his father, a relative perhaps?"

"The Crown Princess is well, already up and moving from what I saw, Your Majesty. She refused the wetnurse the King offered, told everyone within that she would not let her son be fed by a stranger when she was right there with milk to spare," Tayla smiled at the memory of the Crown Princess. "And Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is beautiful, My Queen. A perfect mix of his mother and father."

The smile fell from Queen Alicents lips, "What? What do you mean?!"

"The babe had the hair color of his mother but its curlier, I believe. And his eyes are from her too, but his skin color is more like his fathers. I was not close enough to see his facial features but I could hear Lord Velaryon and the King celebrating him."

Queen Alicent stared at the servent silently before commanding, "Take me to them. Now. I wish to meet the newest member of the Velaryon family." She made sure to emphasize the name Velaryon, believing the maid had mispoken but she did not correct her self.

"Of course, your Majesty. The Crown Princess has been taken back to her Apartments in order to rest." Tayla turned to lead the Queen to the Heir's Apartments as Ser Criston Cole fell into step behind her, white armor gleaming as his cloak fluttered dramatically.

The walk was considerably shorter than Queen Alicent expected but that did not make it anymore pleasant. The walls of the entire third floor of the Holdfast had Valyrian Tapestries depicting family members and their respective dragons, starting with Daenys the Dreamer. There were even Velaryon tapestries hung up, pictures of sea creatures of myths and legends that made Queen Alicent shudder.

The halls were lit with dragonglass latterns that threw beautiful patterns along the walls. The group of three passed by several members of Princess Rhaenyra's Household, including Lady Sara Snow, Lady Annara Celtigar, and Lady Mara Karstark.

The large black wood door at the end of the hallway had Syrax, the Princess' dragon carved into the wood and filled with gold, the large green emerald eye acting as the handle. Standing outside was Ser Harrold Westerling and Ser Arryk Cargyll, the Kings guard for the day, Ser Harwin Strong and Ser Erryk Cargyll, the Princess' Guard, as well as six other guards, Velaryon and Arryn based upon their armor were posted in the hallway.

Ser Strong opened the door, calling into the room, "Queen Consort Alicent of House Hightower." He stepped out of the way, eyeing Ser Cole, who was smirking haughtily.

They knew his secret.

Sweeping inside, Queen Alicent found Princess Rhaenyra resting upon a beautiful, cushioned chaise, her youngest lady, Lady Sera Dondarrion, working oils through her long, golden-white hair.

"Ahh, my dear Queen!" King Viserys called, sat upon an armchair with his grandson cradled within his arms. "You will be most delighted to see what the Gods have gifted my dear grandson!"

Her smile nearly fell, but she quickly plastered it back in place, "A gift from the Seven-Who-Are-One? I would be delighted, husband."

"Come, come," King Viserys said, using his head to gesture her over. Coming to stand at his side, purposefully displacing Lord Corlys, who ignored her to focus on his grandson, she looked down, fully expecting a carbon copy of Ser Harwin Strong, no matter the reports of Tayla.

Instead soft, thick, curly golden-white hair formed a halo upon his head, the sunlight that streamed through the window giving it a soft glow. Purple eyes, the same as Rhaenyra's down to the color and placement of the darker black specks, stared back at her though she noticed a strange sheen to them, seemingly giving them a golden tint when the sunlight them. Dark skin, though a few shades lighter than Prince Laenors or Lord Corlys', though it was likely that it would darken if he became a sailor like his grandfather and father.

"Look," Viserys murmured, lightly brushing back the curls piled onto his tiny forehead. In white lines upon his forehead, etched into his skin, was a crown with a strange rune in the very center.

"It means 'King'," Lord Corlys stated, smiling widely. "Its an Old Language, shared by the First Men, Valyrians, and Ghiscari. The last time I saw anything like it was while I was visiting Old Ghis."

Laenor rolled his eyes as the two dads shared a laugh, while the babe cooed, turning his attention to his father.

"Does he have a name?" Alicent asked, voice tense. A glance to Rhaenyra told her that she could hear the tone change and was amused by it.

"Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, First of His Name, and Heir to me, the Heir to the Irone Throne and Heiress to House Targaryen. Tonight we plan to announce him to all the Great Houses," Princess Rhaenyra stated, smile softening as she looked to her babe.

"I congratulate you, Princess. Your Mother must be looking down upon you in happiness for your success, from the Strangers Embrace," Queen Alicent said, trying to hide a sharp smirk as Rhaenyra's gaze flashed.

"Lady Helaena, your dearest Mother, one of my own dear mothers companion must be looking upon me favorably as well. It is a shame she left so young, but she lives on in the paintings you or your father must have. At least I can look upon the mirror and see my mother at times, but you, my lady, are the perfect imitation of your father," Rhaenyra grinned, teeth sharp and poised at the throat. Alicent nearly gaped at Rhaenyra, shocked by the low blow. The Princess knew she had no paintings of her mother because they were too expensive for a second son to afford.

"Thank you," Queen Alicent barely hid a snarl with a false smile. "My husband, I fear I must return to mine own chambers to ready myself for the feast tonight."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek to hide the hatred and anger she yearned to let them see.

"Of course, my dear. I shall see you tonight then." The king was far more focused on the babe than he was his wife, not even registering the kiss on his cheek.

Queen Alicent stalked outside, Ser Cristin quickly falling into step with one last look towards Ser Harwin.

How could Rhaenyra have said something so cruel! Her father was right. This was no longer her friend but her enemy. Aegon would take his rightful place upon the Throne. Viserys would eventually have to see the truth, that his daughter was unfut to rule, that women were unfit to be in places of such power.

From now on she had to begin finding allies for herself, especially now that her father was no longer the Kings trusted Hand and advisor. Her first act would have to be discrediting the rumors that were sure to appear once people saw the birthmark upon Prince Jacaerys' forehead.

Nearly flinging her door open she ordered the servent within to find her best green dress. The maid bowed and scurried into the adjacent chamber to find one while other servents were called to bath her.

For two hours she allowed herself to be pampered, both in the bath and outside it, before allowing the servents to carefully lace up the beautiful generald green dress with tight sleeves, a high neckline, and beautiful green detailing around the bust and waist, emphasizing her small figure. After Aemond she had easily dropped the added pregnancy weught, something she doubted Rhaenyra would be able to do.

Queen Aemma had always looked swelled, or unhealthy and it wouldn't surprise her if Rhaenyra was the same.

Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen smiled as Cylia and Morgana Strong carefully aided her towards her bathing chamber, where a steaming bath awaited. Maester Mellos, who the King had allowed in after Queen Alicents departure, had tried to insist that a hot bath was unhealthy but the healer had disregarded that. Apparently the woman had helped Saera Targaryen give birth several times and the older woman always felt better after a steaming bath. It was a Targaryen thing, she said.

Rhaenyra could see the different herbs one of the other healers had added and could not help but ask, "What kind of herbs are in here?" She sank into the water with a near moan, muscles relaxing.

"Yarrow to reduce swelling, lemon balm to keep fevers and sickness at bay, and witch hazel to help the healing process," Healer Ana answered, carrying over a cup of tea. "Your grace, I suggest drinking nettle tea for the next three days in order to quicken the healing process. It shall also aid in milk production to make your son grow quicker and healthier."

Nodding, Rhaenyra took the tea, relieved at the warmth that slid down her throat. Luckily it had been sweetened by honey and the slightest bit of milk so she could ignore the bitter tasting liquid easier. "Thank you."

"Of course."

She was happy to note that Healer Ana had remembered her decision to breastfeed Jacaerys herself, rather than passing him off to a wet nurse as most did. Her and Laenor had agreed that they could not trust anyone, so it would be safer, and seemingly healthier according to the midwives, for him to feed from her.

For a good hour she soaked, drinking several cups of tea during the time, as Morgana and Cylia painted her nails a beautiful dark red, a very expensive shade her goodsister had sent her. Once the water had cooled, she was dried and dressed in a plain towel so Sera could braid her hair in a simple crown.

The dress she chose was black with red and gold trim, long draping sleeves filled with soft fur, made in the Northern style. It had been a gift from Lord Rickon Stark and his young son, Cregan Stark, and one she quite adored. Pulling it on, she admired the softness as she swept out of her dressing room, finding all three men still cooing over little Jacaerys.

"Father, Goodfather, I believe you the feast will be beginning in an hour," Rhaenyra said, smiling at the slight panic both men obviously felt.

"Ahh, you're right, my dear," Viserys pressed a kiss against her cheek as his eldest gently took Jacaerys. "I shall see you tonight for the feast."

"As will I. You did well, my son," Lord Corlys stated, clapping Laenor on the shoulder. He gave his father a strained smile, escorting the two from her Apartments, before nearly slumping against the door.

"I can not believe him sometimes. Did you see his face when we introduced Jacaerys?!"

"Did you see the Queens? She looked as if she sucked a lemon when she saw our little boy."

Laenor laughed, vividly remembering the shocked look upon her face, as well as the look on her face when she saw his marking.

"I must admit, I was surprised by the marking as well. I know Arrax told us he would lay claim upon his . . . our? . . . son, but I did not realize it would be so visible," Laenor admitted, lightly brushing his fingers over Jacaerys' forehead, smiling at the quiet coo.

"It is a boon either way. The servents, healers, and midwives that were present during the birth will gossip, and after tonight, when all the Lords and Ladies we invited see it they will know that Jacaerys is my rightful heir. The Greens will see that he is no bastard, that he is more Valyrian than the Queens half-breed children."

Laenor grinned, pressing a kiss against her cheek. "I love when you get all viscious. Unfortunate that I must depart from my beautiful lady wife and handsome little boy to dress myself for tonight's feast." He pressed another kiss to her lips to further seal the act, having noticed Sera emerge from her dressing room, before taking his leave.

The Great Hall was beautifully decorated with tables made of oak holding dragonglass vases filled with flowers, red, black, sea-green, and silver silks across the tables. Every seat was filled, with every Great House having arrived within the last two weeks and several smaller Houses having been invited as well.

House Hightower, House Redwyne, House Lannister, and House Bracken all wore green, whether it was a dress, jewelry, or a doublet. Everyone else within the hall wore black alongside their House colors, filling the hall with an array of colors.

House Targaryen and House Velaryon sat at the largest long table situated at the front of the hall, with nearly all of them in attendance. Princess Rhaenys, who had yet to be introduced to her grandson, had a pinched look upon her face, much to Ser Otto Hightowers delight.

It was very obvious to everyone that she thought, knew, that Prince Laenor and Crown Princess Rhaenyra's newbirn son was a bastard, likely begotten by Ser Harwin Strong.

The doors swung open, "Announcing Crown Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne, Heiress to the House of Targaryen, Future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and her husband, Prince Laenor Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark, High Tide, and to the House of Velaryon, Future King Consort to Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

The announcer did not give the name of the babe swaddled in Prince Laenors arms, giving the Royal Family that opportunity to officially announce him and his titles.

"My dearest daughter," King Viserys called, standing from his seat at the head of the table. "Lords and Ladies of the Realm, I must say today is a glorious day for the combined Targaryen-Velaryon. My heir has had her own heir and secured her lineage."

"Thank you, father. Thank you, Lords and Ladies, for traveling so far to be here with us on this joyous occasion. While I am before you tonight I wish to address the rumors about the birth of my son," Crown Princess Rhaenyra stated, holding herself with grace. Prince Laenor eyed the Hightowers who were all sharing small sneers with each other.

"Yesterday afternoon my wife began her labors within the Throne Room, before giving birth to my son early this morning in the shadow of the Iron Throne," Prince Laenor announced, fighting back a smirk when the sneers dropped and everyone one began whispering.

"Now, I would like to introduce our son. Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, Heir to the Heiress of House Targaryen, and Heir to the Heir of the Iron Throne, Future King of the Seven Kingdoms!"

The Blacks cheered for their future Queen and King as Crown Princess Rhaenyra tilted her son towards the crowd, showing them his curly golden-whitr hair and dark skin.

"Now please, feast! Celebrate!" Laenor shouted, earning even louder cheers as the two rounded the table to sit down.

"Laenor," Rhaenys murmured, purple eyes boring into her gooddaughters head. "Princess Rhaenyra."

"Mother," Laenor greeted coldly, not even deigning to look at his mother. She glared at her son, making to speak before Corlys cut her off.

"Rhaenys," Corlys began, keeping his voice low. "Just hold the boy for a moment."

"I refuse."

Laenors muscles locked in place, grey-purple ryes flashing with fire. Rhaenyra knew that if they had been closer to the Dragon Pit they'd be able to hear Seasmokes roars of fury.

"Then I believe its high time you return to Driftmark, Princess Rhaenys," Laenor snarled, viciously stabbing a clam upon his plate. "I will not have my son mocked, I will not let you give the Greens fuel to attack my wife and son. So if you are going to act like a petty child than I do not desire to have your company during this celebration, nor does my wife or son."

Rhaenys and Corlys both gaped at their son as Rhaenyra smiled, placing a hand on the crook of his arm and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "I thank you, husband mine."

"Laenor . . ." Rhaenys hesitated when she saw the look in her sons eyes. "Fine. Let me see the babe."

Rhaenyra was reluctant to pass over her son to the woman who had been the source of several of their problems recently but she did. Jacaerys settled in his grandmothers arms, only opening his arms once he was comfortable.

Staring down at the babe that looked so similar to Laenor as a babe, Rhaenys could not help the wave of guilt that flowed through her. "Laenor, Rhaenyra, I–"

The deep gutteral bellow of a dragon made the castle shake, scaring the guests within the hall. Wives reached for husbands as men reached for blades, looking around wildly.

"That . . . Is that not Vermithor?" Corlys questioned, standing from his seat. King Viserys sought to calm the people but another riar from the Bronze Fury only stirred them up more.

Jacaerys cooed, purple eyes gleaning as he was taken back into his mothers arms. Looking down Rhaenyra found the same love she felt for Syrax, the same she saw reflected in Laenors eyes whenever he saw or spoke of Seasmoke, and she knew.

"SILENCE!" Laenor commanded, having recognized what was happening as well. "Vermithor is not here to attack, but to claim his rider."

Crown Princess Rhaenyra swept from the Great Hall, heading towards the courtyard that Vermithor would have to land in if he wished to fit.

The Bronze Fury was stunning with scales of beaten bronze and copper, red-bronze spikes around his narrow face and along his spine seemed to shine in the light of the setting sun.

Hundreds of people, nobility and smallfolk alike, were witness to Vermithor meeting Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen before allowing Prince Laenor and his rider upon his back for a flight around King's Landing. There was no possible way for Otto to manipulate the circumstances to better serve him. Everyone would know what had happened that day.

Crown Prince Jacaerys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, Heir to the Heir of the Iron Throne, Heir to the Heiress of House Targaryen, the Born King, the Divine Ruler, He Who Was Born in the Shadow of the Iron Throne, the Lawful, the Bringer of Justice, the Judge, the Rider of Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, the King's Mount, had been born.

[dragonnan]

DREAM ANGST ABUSE

This is one I've managed most of the writing on so far. I'm thinking I'll probably combine my other ideas into this one as well.

The gist of the story takes place following Rodrick's death. I don't see Alex being very involved with Dream, going forward, other than the rare visit to try to bargain. So, instead, the main villain will be Sykes - who has been placed in charge of managing the guards and keeping watch of Dream. The comics established Sykes as someone more than capable of taking whatever he needs to further his ambitions. In this version, he chooses to use Dream as a means for additional income. The story will involve noncon - though I'll be keeping away from anything overtly graphic. I haven't yet settled on whether Dream escapes as he does in the series or if I'll go completely AU and have Hob save him. Either way, he'll have developed major PTSD that begins to worsen once all the chaos of regaining his tools and dealing with Rose and the Corinthian are squared away.

Below the cut is an excerpt from the first on-progress chapter.

It had been a little over a year since the death of Rodrick Burgess. While Alex had fashioned himself as the new head of the household, it was, in truth, Ruthven Sykes who had taken over affairs. Was there something foul – corrupting – in the very stones and mortar of the house which drew such like minds together? Dream had found Sykes to be just as wicked and cruel as Burgess. Perhaps even more so. With Burgess there had always been a consistent, monotonous, nature to his demands. Until his death, he had never wavered in his greed for immortality and wealth – his desire to call back his eldest son, from the Sunless Lands, long since forgotten. Sykes, though… there were no boons to move him. He seemed to want neither long life nor wealth beyond which he already possessed. Not once had he spoken a word to Dream and any orders to the guards were given outside of the basement. When he did bother to show himself it was merely to watch, silent, from the bottom of the stairs, before leaving once again. Thus had been the routine for the last 13 months.

There was a soft crinkling as Jonesy grabbed several biscuits from a package on the counter. Tucking them into the palm of his hand, he grasped the two cups of coffee and carried them back to the small table the two of them shared.

Silence returned as they sipped their drinks and read – Jonsey from a newspaper and Chuck from his tattered book.

Every day after every day after every day followed this pattern. Chuck and Jonsey were there for the first half of the day – from breakfast until dinner. It had only been through their conversations that Dream had even that much insight into the passage of the day. With the coming of Night, two other guards would take over.

Hours slipped by. Sometimes the guards would get up for more food or coffee or sometimes just to stretch. Dream, while aware of their movements, paid little mind to them. He yearned to fully stretch out his form; not only the physical but the part that once connected to the Dreaming as well. The singular form encasing him, while robust, still felt the stiffness of being held in his tiny cage. He could stand but could not completely straighten to his full height. Nor could he lie down comfortably with the jutting spikes protruding from every joint. No matter. He could endure.

Dream had his eyes closed, sitting with legs folded beneath him, when the door to the basement rattled open. He didn’t move – didn’t open his eyes. He could feel the gaze resting upon him, however. There was the scrape of leather against the concrete; muted through the glass. More footsteps followed and chairs scraped. Changing of the guards.

Few words were exchanged beyond the mundane report of Dream’s activities – such as they were. After Chuck and Jonsey had gone, one of the evening guards approached the binding circle. The metal ramp, bridging the moat, rattled as he stepped across.

Silence followed for a span until, after a brief huff, knuckles rapped on the glass.

“Heard you were a good boy again today, sweetheart.”

Elias Aswang. Dark hair, roughly built, late forties. Often he was given to taunting or crude commentary. Not the first to do so, however. Unremarkable.

“Oi, you fixin to play or you just gonna chat it up all night?” Bruce Hagen; bald, soft around the middle, missing several bottom teeth which caused a mild lisp. Elias gave a final tap on the glass before tromping back towards the small card table.

“Yeah, yeah – but you try and cheat this time and I’ll break your fingers.”

[carneirinha]

two birds with one stone

written for the 2023 carrie holiday fic exchange and for @scary-white!! hope you enjoy!!

sue comes up with the idea of going to the prom with one of tommy's friends so that both she and carrie can enjoy it, a decision that ends up saving her classmates' lives. (light carrie/sue/tommy. everybody lives and has a good time, novel accurate, etcetera :3)

Sue straightened the neckline of her dress, beginning to think that the polyester lace in her dress that she could feel brush against her skin so routinely would give her further troubles. There wasn’t much to focus on while inside the car, and all she could do at this point was hope that this wouldn’t be too overwhelming for the poor girl Tommy waited for at the door.

The two had made out outside the car, before picking anyone else up for the ride, like a kiss goodbye before they began things. That night, there would be no affection. Sue found it fair that way.

(wonder how theyll look together)

She had to admit, she wasn’t as much of a Christ figure as she thought she’d be on such an occasion: She caved in. One sunny sunday, two days after she’d hatched her plan, she called Tommy in his landline, and, after waiting for a minute or two for his mom to go ‘fetch him’, she asked a simple question: “Do you have any friends who don’t have a date for the prom?”

It wasn’t too selfish, she convinced herself. In a way, she’d just been giving another person the chance to experience a once-in-a-lifetime event that had been so widely discussed the entire year. But, ah, she was lying if she didn’t say she didn’t half do it just to listen to the bands playing, half slow music, half rock, feel the golden spotlight lights softly hit her hair, be absorbed by the overabundance of glitter cut out stars and crepe paper covering everything. This wasn’t just about herself

(she hoped she sure hoped she wasnt making it so)

but it was played out, in a way, so all would come out winning in the end. How bad could that possibly be?

After a few seconds of no answer, she felt like she had to jump in, explain herself further. “I’ve been thinking. You take Carrie. I take one of your friends with no date, I know you have at least one. We can spend the night together, Carrie will get to… well, have fun, and you’ll even be able to bring a buddy along…”

Tommy finally answered after what seemed like eternity, first with a chuckle, then “We’re doing the long haul, huh? I like your plan, though.” The guy he eventually settled on was Rodrick Wilson, a quarterback that, while mostly put as an emergency third, Tommy had an amicable relation with: “He’s really a nice guy if you get to talk to him, but, since he doesn’t talk much to girls, none of them wanted to ask him out and neither did he think of anyone,” he explained.

Susan, feeling like she had finally dropped a boulder that she’d been carrying before making the call, replied, “I’ll ask him when I see him.” and, as an addition, said “Thank you. I love you.” This time, the first sentence came out naturally, almost gleefully, like a child who’d gotten candy.

Tommy took a few moments to reply, taken aback. “I love you too.”

Neither had been this emotionally intimate before planning for the senior prom.

Sue’s proposal, on a rather slow and cloudy Tuesday, had gone a lot more smoothly than Tommy's had… or at least she liked to imagine it so. As Rod - how he was often called - sat down for the class that the two shared, she walked up to him and said, in the most casual, non-committal way she could manage, “If you don’t have a date, would you like to go to prom with me?”

The boy, who Sue noted had hair that appeared to be growing into what was meant to be a mullet but didn’t quite reach that point, cocked his head back in a lighthearted laugh that indicated he somewhat knew about what she and Tommy had been up to,

(oh god this was a bad idea)

then nodded and said, “Yeah, sure thing.” And that was the last of it. Sue went to her seat and class began as normal, surprised that at least half of the plan seemed to have gone well.

What was tough to endure, however, was the surprise that some made clear. Lots of people, of course, weren’t surprised and caught on to what was happening. But the ones that were, mostly girls, seemed to almost react to the rumours as if what the two had done was an impossible feat. One of these, of course, was Helen Shyres, when the Decoration Committee worked on the prom mural in the gym. “You and Tommy are going, right?”

“Yes,” Sue replied, as she painted a gorgeous sunset with orange coloured chalk. She made sure that it would be the most gorgeous Spring Ball that would ever exist. “but not together.”

Helen stopped drawing and the two looked at each other in silence, like Susan had just mentioned something unthinkable and profane. “Can I ask you about it, Sue? God, everyone’s talking.”

Sue stopped drawing. “Of course.” She put the chalk down and tried to beat off excess chalk from her hands, which were bright orange at this point. “I suppose I ought to tell someone. Tommy asked Carrie, so that she’ll get out of her own head a little, and I asked Rod because he just wanted to go but had no one to take him.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence, so, once more, she felt as if she should add some information to explain herself. “We’re still going to be together and have fun. We’ll even sit at the same table. We’re just wanting others to have fun, too. Besides… I owe Carrie this much.”

And, then, as she saw Carrie get inside Tommy’s Ford 1963, sitting next to her on the backseat, face half giddier than she had ever seen her before or ever, and half mortified, Sue couldn’t help but notice for the first time that she wasn’t hideous as people made her out to be. In fact, as they drove around in his car, street lamps casting shadows and illuminating her face all at once, she was quite gorgeous.

Her dark blonde hair, that she usually saw frizzy and styled for practicality, laid around her pale shoulders like a curtain. Her round face now seemed to be positively glowing, in a way, and even her dark eyes had more of a shine. Her full lips, she noted, were highlighted with a peach-coloured lipstick that suited her just right. Her figure, usually hidden away by cardigans and long skirts, was now accentuated - in almost every way, even if Sue didn’t quite pay attention to those things - by the beautiful, simplistic, dark red dress that she wore.

All she could say was, “Hi... Did Tommy tell you how stunning you look already?” Tommy, upon hearing that, seemed to smile and slightly nod, while driving. Carrie replied, timidly, “Yes, he did.” He didn’t lie.

The air in the gymnasium that night smelled heavily like synthetic fabrics, hairspray and crepe paper, but Sue didn’t mind. She was right, making the decision to still go to prom was worth it in her mind. She sat, with a glass of fruit punch, mostly people watching: It was a habit she often liked to do, especially in moments with as many people as this. The Honor Society had just begun collecting the votes for run off voting for Prom King and Queen, and, in some faces, she saw nervousness and anticipation for something, in others, boredom and contempt as their fellow students snatched the ballots from their hands.

Most importantly, her attention was redirected back to her table. They’d all collectively voted for Tommy Ross and Carrie White, as, when Tommy exclaimed, “Let’s vote for ourselves. To the devil with false modesty!”, Carrie laughed and

(oh she sounded cute)

immediately after, Susan followed with a lighthearted “Gee, I’m voting for you two as well. I just can’t compete like this.” When she looked over to her prom date’s ballot, he seemed to have done the same. Carrie giggled, before accidentally hurting herself with a splinter from her pencil after voting for herself. Susan’s eyes widened, but as Tommy began to comfort her, she couldn’t help but zone out as she figured things would probably be alright. He’d been treating her well the entire night.

She looked up. It wasn’t particularly remarkable: a regular gymnasium ceiling, but, if anything, she was drawn to it because of how unremarkable it was compared to how flashy the entire building looked, a sore for the eyes despite its beauty, what with the bright lights.

And then she noticed something.

There were two buckets above the lights that illuminated the stage.

Chris had gotten inside the gym during the Prom Committee decoration, and, as Sue’s mood soured as she watched her talk to Tina Blake - of course, the two were as close as they could get -, a question arose in her mind. “Helen?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are they going to do something?”

Helen’s face seemed to somewhat distort itself, and, like an actor in a play, she replied, sweetly, “I don’t know.” Overinnocent.

“Oh.” Sue replied curtly, taking note.

(you know you know something: accept something goddammit if it's only yourself tell me)

The two went back to colouring.

She hadn’t seen those buckets there before, though it could have just been a small detail that her brain left out. Why wouldn’t it? As she examined it more, however, she couldn’t help but notice how out of place they were.

It was then she noticed the rope and the pulley set up near them, looking like a strange Rube Goldberg machine, that she remembered not seeing them before. It could be confetti or something equally obnoxious of the sort, but, if it were, she would have seen it be set up by a classmate or two when aiding with decoration.

The rope led to underneath the stage, as she tracked it down, and it was then a familiar, but alien feeling creeped up. She didn’t worry the entire night about Chris and her kind showing up and doing something, but it was then that the feeling hit her once more, like a sharp chest pain.

“Excuse me,” she said, as she got up from her seat, looking at Tommy who looked back at her with a confused look on his face. “I have to see something.” She slowly walked towards the side of the stage, trying to avoid bumping into Tina Blake and Norma Watson, who shined with pride and walked around collecting the votes like hyperactive ants.

When she did, she then noticed there seemed to be at least some sound coming from under the stage, muffled by the dark mint faux leather curtains that seemed to have been there since 1954. That strange feeling overcame her once more, as if something was incredibly, terribly wrong, and she pulled the stage upholstery up.

(thats hargensen i knew it i fucking knew it)

Blood rained down on the empty thrones, without anyone to crown.