yerimsdreams

[yerimsdreams]

Letters of Intent

author's note: chapter 3 is here! sorry for the wait, I was busy with resit exams and my new semester has also started :((

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: mention of death (both human and dragons). making threats. crying. anger. swearing. spoilers for fire&blood.

The dungeons beneath the Red Keep were a labyrinth of despair, a place where even the bravest souls found their resolve tested. As Visenya descended the stairs, the air grew colder and more oppressive, the distant sounds of the keep above fading into nothingness. The stone walls were slick with moisture, the air heavy with the stench of rot and neglect, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the corridors like the ticking of some unseen clock. 

At the third level, the narrow stairway gave way to a series of rough-hewn tunnels. Here, the true darkness began. The flickering torchlight carried by the northern guards did little to push back the shadows that clung to the walls, as if the darkness itself were alive, waiting to swallow them whole.

The Black Cells. 

The passage narrowed further, the stone walls pressing in on either side, until at last, they reached a row of heavy wooden doors, their surfaces scarred and battered from years of use. The wood was thick and dark, soaking up the light, so that the cells beyond were cloaked in absolute darkness. There were no windows, no cracks in the walls through which even the smallest sliver of light could pass. Once the door was closed, the black cells became a tomb of night, where time ceased to exist and prisoners were left alone with nothing but their thoughts - and their fears. 

When one of Cregan's men opened the door to Corlys' cell, the light from the torch spilled into the space, revealing a small, cramped chamber. The walls were close and suffocating, built to crush a man's spirit as much as his body. 

His figure sat slumped against the cold wall. The Sea Snake, once a man of legend and renown, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, his silver hair matted and his eyes sunken from more than a week spent in blackness. As the torchlight reached him, he squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. 

''Visenya?'' His voice was rough, as if he had not spoken in days.

She stepped forward, her presence commanding even in the oppressive gloom. The torchlight played across her silver hair and pale skin, casting sharp shadows that made her seem more dragon than woman. She regarded him with a cool gaze, her expression betraying nothing. ''Your time in this darkness is at an end, my lord.'' 

Corlys struggled to his feet, the chains around his wrists clinking with the movement. He winced, his body stiff from confinement, but his gaze never left the young princess. ''What have you done?'' 

Visenya ignored his question, her eyes flicking to the northern men standing at attention beside her. ''Release him,'' she commanded, her tone brooking no argument, ''and escort him to his new apartment in Maegor's Holdfast.'' 

The men moved forward, unlocking the chains that bound Corlys. The heavy shackles fell away with a clatter, the sound echoing through the narrow, suffocating cell. 

For a moment, Corlys simply stood there, rubbing his raw wrists, his gaze fixed on Visenya. He wanted to demand answers, to know the cost of this sudden reprieve, but the steel in her eyes held him back from speaking to her as he had done in the years before. 

''Princess,'' he sighed, breaking the thick silence, ''what happened?'' 

The words were heavy with exhaustion and the remnants of pride, a plea wrapped in the dignity of a man who had been brought low. 

Visenya's gaze did not waver. For a long moment, she simply looked at him, as if weighing how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden. 

''You were able to save my nephew,'' she said softly, the authoritative tone in which she had commanded the guards gone, ''but I was not able to save your son.'' 

Corlys inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat as the impact of her words struck him. He staggered slightly, catching himself against the cold stone wall, his hand trembling. 

''Addam,'' He whispered, the name escaping his lips like a prayer, a lament for the son he had claimed as his own. 

She weakly nodded, the guilt of his death still filling her body each time she thought of the young Velaryon man she had taught to become a dragonrider their rightful Queen could depend on. She had watched him grow, had seen the fire in his eyes as he bonded with Seasmoke, and had placed her trust in his loyalty.

Unfortunately, after the death of her third son and the betrayal of Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White, Rhaenyra had succumbed to paranoia, her once-steady mind fracturing under the relentless pressure of loss and betrayal. She had seen enemies everywhere, even among those who had once been closest to her. It was in this fevered state that she had commanded the arrest of Addam, convinced that he, too, would turn on her, as so many others had. She had seen treachery in every shadow, and in her desperation to cling to her crumbling power, she had condemned a loyal dragonrider. 

But Corlys had known better. He had seen the fear in his queen's eyes and the madness that clouded her judgement. It had been he who warned his bastard son, who had sent him away with Seasmoke to flee from King's Landing before the Queen’s guards could reach him. But in the end, the war had taken him as it had taken so many others. 

There was nothing she could say that would ease his or her grief, no explanation that would justify the tragedy that had befallen Addam at Tumbleton. 

She could still see it in her mind: the horror of that battle, the moment she and Sōnax had arrived too late to save him. The sight of Vermithor tearing into Seasmoke, the sound of Addam's last cry lost in the roar of the flames. It haunted her, and she knew it would haunt her forever. 

''He was brave,'' she smiled, the memory of Addam descending upon Raventree Hall ingrained in her mind, ''and loyal.'' 

Corlys closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength from her words. ''Thank you.'' He murmured, though the words were heavy with sorrow. He did not look at her, not directly. 

Visenya nodded. She knew it was more than his gratitude for getting the stubborn Lord Cregan Stark to change his mind, but to speak so highly of his son, whom many believed was still a traitor as the other two dragonseeds had been. 

''Let us leave this place,'' she said, her voice firmer now, ''your granddaughters will be delighted to see you again.'' 

With a slow nod and a faint smile at the mention of Rhaena and Baela, Corlys turned to follow her and the two northern men, who'd watched their interaction in silence. 

As they emerged into the light of the Red Keep, the heavy, oppressive air of the dungeons seemed to lift slightly. Cregan's men prepared to escort Corlys to his chambers, but Visenya, however, raised a hand to halt them. She stepped closer to the Sea Snake, her gaze steady and resolute. 

''Before you go,'' she began, stern but not unkind, ''Aegon will restore you to your rightful offices and honours. You will have a place on the small council, where your experience and wisdom will be invaluable.'' 

The sailor nodded in acknowledgment. He turned to follow the guards, but Visenya's next words made him pause once more. 

''Wait,'' she said, signalling for the northerners to step back, giving them some privacy. She took a step closer to him, her eyes narrowing slightly, ''there is one more thing you need to hear.'' 

Corlys turned back to her, his expression curious but cautious as well. ''Yes, Princess?'' 

''Guide Aegon well,'' she advised, her voice low but intense, ''he is in his minority and his reign is fragile. Do not make me regret my decision to intervene. If you falter in your duties or act against the realm's best interests, know that I will see to it personally that the sentence originally decreed by Lord Stark will be executed. And it will not be by his sword - it will be fulfilled with the fire of my dragon.'' 

Her gaze was unflinching, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. There was no room for error, no chance for betrayal. The stakes were high, and he understood the consequences of failing her or the young king. 

Visenya motioned for the guards to resume their duty, leading him to his chambers. As they moved away, the corridors of the Red Keep seemed to close in, the weight of her warning hanging in the air. 

The days following the release of Lord Corlys passed in a blur. The Red Keep, ever a hive of intrigue, had settled into a tense quiet as the last of the executions and sentences were carried out. True to his word, Cregan had wielded Ice with the grim resolve expected of a man from the North, but as soon as the blood was washed from the stones, he had tendered his resignation as Hand of the King. ''The snows are falling in the North,'' he had declared to Aegon, ''and my place is at Winterfell.'' 

Yet, he had not yet departed the capital, lingering in King’s Landing for reasons known only to him.

Now, a different kind of tension filled the council chamber. The noble women and men seated around the large oak table were not here to discuss war or executions but something far more delicate: the marriage of Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera. 

''They are children, Tyland!'' Visenya's voice cut through the chamber, resolute and sharp, leaving little room for argument. ''Aegon is only one-and-ten, and Jaehaera is even younger. This marriage, while needed, should not be rushed. Let them grow before you make them say words they cannot comprehend.'' 

The room fell into a tense silence, her words echoing off the stone walls. Ser Tyland Lannister, a former Green, leaned forward, his golden hair catching the dim light of the chamber. ''Princess, I understand your concern for your nephew and niece, but this marriage is not just about them. We need stability, and this union will provide that. The sooner the better.'' 

She narrowed her eyes at the man, making Tyland lean back again. ''Stability bought with the innocence of children is no stability at all.'' She spat back. 

Making the marriage of the young children part of the peace pact had not been Visenya's idea, but at the time she had understood it was necessary. Aegon the Elder's death was fresh in the mind of the realm, and Corlys wanted immediate peace, or in his words, the madness needed to end. 

Corlys, sitting to Tyland's right, clasped his hands in front of him. ''Visenya, the realm needs this marriage to happen. We cannot afford to wait.'' 

She clenched her jaw as she listened to the Sea Snake speak, a man she had saved not long ago, and yet here he was, aligned with those who would rush her nephew and niece into a union neither was ready for. 

''They are children,'' she repeated, her voice softer but no less firm, ''I am not asking to delay until their nameday, but let them have a respite from this war. They have both watched their family die, one by one. Let them heal before thrusting them into something they have no say in.'' 

''The Princess speaks wisely,'' Lady Jeyne spoke up, ''but wisdom is often lost on those who seek quick fixes.'' The Maiden of the Vale glanced towards Corlys and Tyland, her disdain barely concealed.

The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by the shifting of chairs and the occasional clearing of throats. Jeyne's words hung in the air like a challenge, daring anyone to dismiss Visenya's concerns outright. 

Lord Ryce Caron, father of Lady Elenda Baratheon, raised his voice for the first time, his deep voice rumbling through the room. ''This marriage is a symbol, a promise that the bloodshed is over. We cannot wait for them to grow.'' 

Others around the table murmured in agreement, their voices mingling in a chorus of urgency. Visenya felt the pressure mounting, the weight of their collective will pushing against her resolve. 

''Besides, many of the great houses in Westeros are already on their way to King's Landing for the occasion,'' Corlys added, ''the wheels are in motion, Princess. To delay now would send the wrong message, one of uncertainty and hesitation when we need to project strength.'' 

Visenya's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure. She knew that Corlys was right, at least in a political sense. However, the thought of forcing the young ones into a marriage they were not ready for felt like a betrayal of her silent promise to Rhaenyra to protect her legacy, meaning Aegon. 

After a long pause, Tyland Lannister sighed, breaking the silence. ''Princess, your concerns are valid, and no one here wishes to see the children harmed. But we must also be realistic. The realm needs this union, and it needs it now. The Prince and the Princess will be married, and his coronation will follow subsequently. He'll be the Third of his Name, others will rule in his minority, you included,'' he inclined his head, trying to swoon her of some sorts, ''and peace will be restored.'' 

Her gaze hardened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at Tyland's attempts to placate her with empty promises. She could see through the facade of his words, the subtle manipulation intended to sway her. But she also knew there was little more she could do. The council's decision had been made, and while she had voiced her objections, the momentum was against her. 

''Very well,'' she said finally, the words leaving her lips with a heavy resignation. She could feel the collective relief in the room as she yielded. The tension seemed to dissipate, the lords relaxing ever so slightly, ''but I will take no part in the preparations. You wish to have a wedding and a coronation now, you will plan it amongst yourselves.'' 

She stood up from her chair, her movements deliberate and controlled. The rest of the table quickly followed suit, rising in a show of respect as the Princess made her exit. Her presence was still intimidating, and though they had overruled her, they were not foolish enough to forget the power she held. 

Without another word, she turned and left the chamber, making her way toward the gardens. The tension in the chamber had been stifling, and the cool air outside was a welcome relief, though it did little to soothe the frustration boiling within her. She needed space, a moment to breathe and collect herself away from the prying eyes of the court.

As she walked, the sound of footsteps following her grew louder. The steady, deliberate pace was unmistakable, and she did not need to turn around to know who was behind her. 

She reached the entrance to the gardens, the familiar scent of blooming flowers greeting her as she stepped onto the cobblestone path. 

Cregan caught up to her, falling into step beside her. ''Visenya,'' He spoke her name, a hint of concern laced in his voice. 

She stopped, her back still turned to him, her hands still clenched into fists at her sides. For a moment, she said nothing, letting his presence wash over her like a wave of calm. The anger and frustration she had been holding onto so tightly began to loosen its grip, though it did not disappear entirely.

Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes blazing with the remnants of her earlier fury. ''They are blithering idiots!'' She burst out, her voice sharp with anger. ''They sit at that table, so sure of themselves, like they cannot be touched. That Lannister cunt gets to walk around freely while a mere moon ago, he was kissing the Usurper's ass and now he gets to make decisions on my nephew's future, on my sister's son's future? Pathetic.'' 

She began to pace, her movements agitated, as if the energy of her anger needed an outlet. ''How dare they? I am a Princess of the Crown, a Princess of the Realm. While I was out there fighting a war that despicable men like them started, they were simply sitting in their castles, doing nothing.'' 

Cregan listened in silence as Visenya vented her frustration, his gaze steady and unwavering as he watched her pace back and forth like a caged lioness.

Her voice rose with each word, the injustice of it all fueling the fire within her. ''I bled for my sister, sacrificed for her, and now they think they can sit there, in their comfortable chairs, and dictate the future of my blood? They presume to make decisions for Aegon and Jaehaera as if they have earned that right - as if they understand the cost of the peace they so desperately seek.'' 

''Where were they when my sister got her birthright stolen? Where were they when they had to honour their oaths? They were nowhere! They were hiding, waiting to see who would emerge victorious, so they could crawl back into power like the cowards they are.'' Her pacing quickened, her steps echoing on the cobblestones as she continued. 

Visenya stopped suddenly, turning to face Cregan with a fierce intensity. ''And now they want to make these children spew vows they do not understand.'' 

She shook her head, her expression one of disbelief. ''They see this marriage as a neat little package to tie up the war and move on. But they are blind to the damage they are doing. They do not care for those children, only about what they represent. Power. Control. A chance to secure their own positions.'' 

Her breathing was ragged, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, she just stood there, the anger that had fueled her rant giving way to a deep, aching sadness. 

Cregan reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the present moment. ''You are not wrong, Princess,'' he spoke calmly, ''but you are above them, stronger than their petty schemes.'' 

Visenya looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ''I just want Aegon to smile again. I cannot even remember what he looks like while smiling.'' She admitted, her voice trembling. 

His heart ached at the sight of her, the depth of her pain cutting through him like a blade. The fierce, determined woman who had stormed out of the council chamber moments before now stood before him, vulnerable and worn. 

He shuffled a bit closer, his hand squeezing her shoulder with a reassuring firmness. ''He will smile again,'' he murmured encouragingly, ''because he still has your love, your strength.''

She blinked, and a single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, frustrated at her own display of weakness. ''But I'm leaving him, Cregan,'' Visenya whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of her fear, ''I am abandoning him when he needs me the most. Just… just like I abandoned Rhaenyra.'' 

Her voice quivered as she spoke, the mention of her sister breaking down the strong facade she had worn since arriving back in King's Landing. The grief she had buried deep within threatened to overwhelm her, the memory of Rhaenyra's loss still fresh, still raw.

Cregan shook his head, his expression easing. ''You did not abandon your sister nor are you abandoning your nephew,'' he began, his voice low and persistent, ''you heeded her commands, as a loyal ally should. Rhaenyra sent you to the Riverlands because she believed in you, in your strength and valour.'' 

Visenya looked away, her gaze distant, her heart heavy. ''Yet I was not by her side when she met her end. I was not there when…'' Her voice caught in her throat, the words too painful to speak aloud. 

The man in front of her reached out, his hand warm and gentle as he cupped her cheek, turning her face back toward him. ''You carried out her will, Visenya. Your sister knew the risks, the dangers. She made her choices, and she entrusted you with a part of her legacy. You honoured her memory by doing as she bade.'' His thumb brushed away the tear that had fallen, his touch tender, almost reverent. 

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch for a moment, drawing strength from his presence. ''I should have defied her commands,'' she shook her head, her voice thick with regret, ''she was a fool to go to Dragonstone with nothing but her son by her side. With Sōnax, I would have burned Aegon alive and she would be sitting on her throne at this moment.'' 

Cregan's expression remained fixed, though his gaze grew more solemn. ''The past is a cruel master,'' he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek, ''but you cannot change what has been done. Rhaenyra was a queen who made her own choices, for good or ill. You did as she bade because you are loyal, because you loved her. Do not dishonour her memory by doubting her decisions now.'' 

Visenya opened her eyes, filled with sadness. ''I should have been there,'' she insisted, ''she should not have faced that betrayal alone.'' 

''Rhaenyra knew the dangers, and she faced them as she saw fit. Her end was her own, it is not yours to carry.'' He said firmly, his hand still clinging onto her cheek. 

Cregan could still see the disappointment etched into his betrothed's features, a burden she bore with every breath. Her eyes, though fierce, were clouded with the weight of self-reproach. 

''Visenya,'' he mumbled, his gaze not wavering from hers, ''you have a life ahead of you, one that your sister, your Queen, would want you to live with all the vigour and courage she saw in you. She made her choices, and now, you must make yours. And I shall stand beside you, my Princess.'' 

Her eyes, still filled with disappointment, began to soothe, as though his words had found a place within her heart. Slowly, she found herself believing him, finding comfort in his certainty. 

A faint, tremulous smile touched her lips. ''I thank you, Cregan,'' she whispered, ''for all that you have done, and all that you are.'' 

Cregan's gaze softened further, and he let his hand remain for a heartbeat longer before lowering it. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her gratitude with a humility that belied his own strength. 

''You need not thank me, Princess.'' 

Visenya walked with purpose through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, her mind focused on her next task - checking in on Aegon. The tension of the day's council meeting still lingered, but she had little time to dwell on it now. As she rounded a corner, her path was suddenly blocked. 

''Oh, my apologies, Princess.'' The man dipped his head swiftly in respect as he recognized who stood before him, his grand frame shifting aside to clear her path.

Visenya paused, taking in the man before her. He was undeniably Northern, his broad shoulders and simple yet sturdy attire a stark contrast to the more refined courtiers of King's Landing. 

She offered him a slight nod in return. ''Do not fret, uh…'' She searched for a name, almost embarrassed she did not immediately recognize the sigil on his chest. 

''Lord Edrick Cerwyn, Princess. I beg pardon for nearly running into you like a clumsy fool.'' He introduced himself, straightening his posture. 

Her eyes flickered with recognition as the name registered. ''Lord Cerwyn,'' she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of warmth as she spoke, ''there is no need for apologies. The Red Keep can be a labyrinth for even the most practised among us.'' 

Edrick offered a modest smile, his rugged features softened by the gesture. ''Still, it was not my intention to impede your path, Princess. I have heard much of you, though this is our first meeting. I hope I have not left a poor impression.'' 

''You have not,'' she assured him, ''you are a close friend of Lord Stark, are you not?'' 

Visenya had seen the man around the Warden of the North a handful of times. Cregan had mentioned his name once during one of the earlier council meetings, but she hadn't had the chance to actually speak with him. 

''Aye,'' Edrick grinned, his voice filled with a quiet pride, ''Cregan and I have known each other since we were boys.'' 

The young woman nodded thoughtfully. ''It is good to know that Lord Stark surrounds himself with those he trusts deeply. Such bonds are rare, especially in these times.'' 

Visenya couldn't help but notice the easy charm in Edrick's demeanour, a warmth that felt almost disarming compared to Cregan's more stoic nature. She found herself smiling a bit more naturally, her earlier tension easing. 

His grin widened slightly. ''Aye, rare indeed, but those bonds are what keep the North strong.'' 

''I see why Lord Stark counts you among those he holds close.'' She responded, her tone much lighter now. 

Edrick chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. ''Thank you, my Princess. In truth, I am looking forward to your arrival in Winterfell. The North can be a cold place, but I suspect your presence will warm it considerably.'' 

''You flatter me, my Lord.'' She said, smiling more naturally at his kind words, a touch of colour rising to her cheeks.

''Not at all,'' he replied, his tone sincere, ''Cregan, uh, Lord Stark speaks highly of you, Princess, and he is not one to give praise lightly.'' 

Her smile faltered slightly, a hint of surprise crossing her features. ''He has spoken of me?'' 

''Aye, he has,'' Edrick confirmed, ''he holds you in high regard, as he should.'' 

Visenya was silenced for a moment. She hadn’t imagined that Cregan would speak of her to his closest friends. The idea that she had made such an impression on the Warden of the North was unexpected, and it left her feeling both flattered and slightly unsettled. 

''I was not aware.'' She admitted after a pause, her voice quieter. 

He offered a gentle smile, sensing some unease. ''Well, now you are, Princess.'' 

She nodded slowly, her mind still processing. ''It, uh, was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Cerwyn,'' her voice wavered slightly, but she quickly composed herself, ''I hope to see you soon again.'' 

Edrick dipped his head in a respectful bow. ''The pleasure was mine, Princess. I am sure our paths will cross again, whether here or in the North.'' 

Visenya resumed her walk after giving him a final nod, her footsteps carrying her down the familiar stone corridors of the Red Keep. Initially, her destination had been clear, to check on her nephew. But after her conversation with Edrick, her mind buzzed with new thoughts, leading her feet in a different direction. 

She turned down a quieter corridor, where the air felt cooler and the noise of the castle seemed to fade into a distant murmur. Her steps guided her to the private chambers of Lady Melina Massey, one of her ladies-in-waiting and the younger sister of Lady Elinda, who had served her late sister Rhaenyra. 

Visenya and Melina had always had a great relationship, offering a blend of wisdom and warmth that made her an invaluable companion. The woman of House Massey was only a few years older than the Targaryen Princess so it had always felt natural to confide in her when it came to more personal subjects. 

As Visenya approached the door, she took a moment to compose herself. Then, with a gentle knock, she announced her presence. The door opened shortly after, revealing Melina's kind and attentive face. She immediately sensed that something was amiss.

''My Princess,'' Melina greeted her with a slight curtsy, her tone laced with concern, ''is everything well?'' 

Visenya managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ''May I come in? There is something I would like to discuss.'' 

The older woman stepped aside without hesitation. ''Of course, Princess.'' She gestured for Visenya to enter, closing the door behind them to ensure their privacy. 

Inside, the room was cosy and inviting, with warm tapestries adorning the walls and a soft glow emanating from the fire burning in the hearth. Melina gestured for her to settle in one of the chairs by the fire, herself taking the opposite seat. 

''What troubles you, my Princess?'' Melina asked gently. 

Visenya took a deep breath, her gaze flickering to the flames before meeting Melina's eyes. ''I just met Lord Edrick Cerwyn. He is a close friend of Cregan,''

Her lady nodded, showing her full attention was on her. 

''He said that Cregan speaks of me, to him - that he speaks highly of me.'' 

Melina leaned in slightly, her eyes alight with curiosity. ''So, Lord Stark speaks of you to his closest friends? That is rather telling, don't you think?'' She grinned, a teasing tone in her voice. 

Visenya offered a small, somewhat embarrassed smile. ''I cannot say. At times, he seems very reserved. I didn't imagine he would mention me to anyone, at least not in a personal way.'' 

Her friend's grin widened, clearly enjoying this rare moment of Visenya's vulnerability. ''Oh, my Princess. You are to be married. Of course, he would speak of you in such a light. How could he not?'' 

She shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the armrest. ''I suppose you are right,'' she admitted softly, ''I do wonder what he tells Lord Cerwyn.'' 

Melina's eyes sparkled with intrigue as she leaned in closer, her voice lowering as if they were sharing a secret. ''Oh, I can only imagine. I bet he speaks of your wisdom, your intelligence, your resilience, your beauty.'' She teased, her tone light and encouraging. 

Visenya's cheeks warmed at the thought, but she let out a small laugh, her earlier uncertainty fading. ''He is difficult to read, always composed.'' She mused. 

Her companion chuckled softly, her smile warm and knowing. ''Reserved men often speak volumes in the little they do say. And if he’s speaking of you, it’s because you’ve given him something to think about.'' 

The Princess' gaze softened as she considered Melina’s words. ''Perhaps,'' she murmured, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, ''it’s strange, though, to think of him discussing me… us… with his friends.'' 

Melina nodded, her expression filled with understanding. ''It might feel strange, but it is a good sign, Princess.'' 

Visenya tilted her head, her voice thoughtful. ''He is not like the men at court, who are all too eager to boast or flatter,'' she remarked, rolling her eyes, ''with him, every word feels… intentional. After the council meeting today, I was upset and frustrated. Somehow, he found me at the right time and he listened to what I had to say, without asking him to.'' 

''Maybe he could feel it in his bones that his future lady-wife was not feeling well?'' Melina laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

The younger woman, unable to suppress a grin, leaned forward and playfully slapped her friend's knee. ''Oh, will you hush!'' Though a faint blush graced her cheeks, the teasing was met with good-natured laughter from both.

But as the laughter subsided, Visenya's expression grew more serious. She glanced toward the fire, the flames reflecting in her violet eyes. ''Melina,'' she began, her tone shifting to something more contemplative, ''there is something I wish to ask you.'' 

Melina straightened in her chair, her attention fully on the Princess. ''Yes?'' 

''In a few moons, when it is time for me to leave for Winterfell, I would ask if you would come with me.'' She was nervous asking such a question, to leave her home. 

Melina's eyes widened slightly in surprise. ''You wish for me to accompany you to the North?'' 

Visenya nodded. ''I believe it could be a new start for the both of us. Winterfell is far from here, and there are a lot of uncertainties. Having a familiar face with me in an unfamiliar place would mean a great deal.'' 

Both women had endured the profound loss of their older sisters - Visenya with Rhaenyra, and Melina with Elinda. The grief they carried had only strengthened their bond, one that went beyond mere duty or friendship. 

Melina reached across the small space between them, taking Visenya's hand in hers. ''It would be an honour. I will go wherever you need me, even to the ends of the earth, Visenya.'' 

The Princess's lips curved into a grateful smile. ''Thank you, Melina. Truly.'' 

Melina squeezed her hand gently, and for a moment, the two friends simply sat in the quiet warmth of the room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. It was a peaceful moment, something they both unconsciously needed. 

The days that followed were filled with significant events that would shape the future of the realm. The wedding of Aegon and Jaehaera was a grand yet poignant affair, held outdoors atop Visenya’s Hill. A deafening cheer erupted from the gathered smallfolk when the marriage was solemnised, the streets thrumming with the sounds of celebration as the royal pair were paraded up to the Red Keep in an open litter. The coronation followed swiftly, with Aegon crowned in a simple circlet of yellow gold, his child bride beside him as he took on the mantle of Aegon III, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. 

But even amidst these grand ceremonies, Cregan's departure was imminent. The portcullis at the castle gates was raised, and the cobblestone courtyard buzzed with activity as the Warden of the North and less than a hundred of his men prepared for their journey back to Winterfell. 

Visenya stood near the entrance of the courtyard, her posture straight and her face carefully composed. The cold wind ruffled her hair, and the weight of her impending role as regent settled heavily on her shoulders. She watched as Cregan, mounted on his powerful horse, oversaw the final preparations of his men, his expression a mask of determined calm.

As the moment of farewell drew closer, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. Cregan finished giving orders, his commanding presence unmistakable even in the midst of the bustling activity. He dismounted his horse, his long coat billowing behind him as he walked toward Visenya. 

They met in the centre of the courtyard, where the noise of the departing men and clattering of hooves seemed to recede into the background. His gaze met hers with an intensity that was unnervingly intimate. 

Visenya took a step forward. ''I wish you a safe journey to the North, my Lord.'' 

He inclined his head slightly, the usual firmness of his features softened but still unwavering. ''Thank you, Princess. I shall take great care.'' His voice was low, almost hushed. 

They fell into a silence, the noise of the courtyard seemed to shrink around them. Cregan's expression was unreadable, his eyes intense as if searching for something in her gaze. There was an unspoken tension between them - not of conflict, but of uncertainty. They were both aware that this parting was different, heavier with the weight of their impending union and the months of separation that loomed ahead. 

Visenya hesitated, her mind racing to find the right words. ''I trust you will find the North in good order when you return.'' The words came out more formal than she intended, and she cringed internally at the stiffness of her tone. 

Cregan's brow furrowed slightly, a faint shadow of confusion passing over his features. ''I will do my best to ensure it.'' 

She forced a smile, cursing herself for the awkwardness she felt. 

The Warden studied her for a moment, sensing the unease in her expression and the stiffness in her tone. He took a small step closer, his voice lowering as if to offer her some comfort. ''I look forward to your arrival in Winterfell, my Princess. The North will look forward to seeing you.'' 

Visenya’s forced smile softened. He had a way of making things feel less daunting, even in the simplest of statements. ''Thank you, my Lord.'' 

''I will write to you in the moons we will be apart, if it pleases you?'' A hint of a smile played at his mouth as he asked, the stern lines of his face easing. 

She visibly eased at his words, her heart warming at the prospect of receiving his letters. ''I would like that very much.'' She replied, feeling much more comfortable now. 

Cregan nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed her growing ease.. ''Then you shall have my letters. I won’t let the distance make us strangers.'' 

''I will write too, though I fear my letters may be more about my complaints of the council than anything else.'' Visenya chuckled. 

Cregan's smile deepened, a rare warmth present. ''I will read them all the same. It will remind me that the South still has its own battles to fight.'' 

''And perhaps I will learn more about the North through your letters than I could from any book.'' She remarked, her voice softer now, a touch more sincere. 

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. ''You’ll find the North is as much about its people as its lands.'' 

Cregan's tone held a hint of pride. The North was a place of harsh winters and fierce loyalty, a land where bonds were forged in the fires of adversity, and he wanted her to know that she would be welcomed not just as a princess, but as one of their own.

''Then I shall look forward to your letters, my Lord. Perhaps they will make this time apart a little easier to bear.'' Visenya said, her words laced with a mix of anticipation and hope. 

His gaze lingered, as if he were committing every detail of her face to memory - the way the light afternoon light caught the silver strands of her hair, the gentle curve of her lips as she smiled, the hint of vulnerability in her violet eyes that she tried so hard to hide. 

In an almost quiet, instinctive gesture, Cregan reached out and gently took her hand in his. His grip was firm, yet careful, as though he were holding something delicate that he could easily break. Without breaking eye-contact, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

He let go, and stepped back, a respectful distance now between them. ''Farewell for now, Visenya,'' he said, with an intimate use of her name, ''may the winds favour your journey when you come North.'' 

''And may they guide you home safely, Cregan.'' She replied, feeling flushed by the manner he spoke her name. 

With a nod, Cregan turned, his fur coat sweeping behind him as he mounted his horse once more. The beast shifted beneath him, sensing the change in its rider's mood, eager to be off. Visenya watched as he took his place at the head of his men. The sound of the hooves striking the ground echoed through the courtyard as the Northern party began their journey. She remained rooted in her place as they moved out of the castle walls. 

With one final look over his shoulder, Cregan met her gaze from a distance. He raised his hand in a final, silent farewell, and Visenya raised hers in return. 

She watched until the last trace of his party disappeared from view, the banners of House Stark swallowed by the winding streets of King's Landing that had never truly welcomed them. Only when they were truly gone did she allow herself to lower her hand. 

The courtyard felt emptier now, physically and figuratively. The last weeks the Wolf in the North had been a constant presence, even when that presence was not always appreciated. He had brought with him the biting winds of his homeland, the uncompromising nature of a man forged in a harsher climate, and though his presence had often been met with wariness, it had also provided an anchor, a grounding force in the midst of chaos. 

It was comical how the Lord of Winterfell had gone back to his frosty mountains and weather, yet it was Visenya who felt cold without him there. She felt his absence keenly now. He had been a fixture in the Red Ked. 

A man out of place, but never out of his depth.

The council chamber was filled with the low murmur of voices as the lords, Lady and Princess debated the finer points of the realm's governance. 

Visenya sat at the long, polished table, her posture straight, betraying none of the fatigue that had settled into her bones. To her left sat Ser Torrhen Manderly, the burly lord of White Harbor. On her right sat Corlys, while Lady Jeyne had taken the seat across from her. The Targaryen woman no longer occupied the chair at the head of the table, now belonging to the new Hand of the King, Ser Tyland Lannister. 

Just as Lord Westerling was making a point about the raids of the Red Kraken on the western coasts, the chamber doors creaked open. The maester, a stooped man with a bald head and a chain heavy with links of various metals, stepped inside. He cleared his throat, cutting through the debate. 

''Princess,'' he said, his voice gravelly with age as he addressed Visenya, his eyes respectfully lowered, ''a raven has arrived from Winterfell.'' 

Several faces turned to Visenya, curiosity and concern etched on their features. She remained outwardly composed, though her heart quickened at the mention of Winterfell. The raven could only mean one thing - Cregan had sent word. 

She nodded calmly at the maester. ''Yes, thank you,'' she then turned to the council, her voice measured, ''my Lady, my lords, if you will excuse me. Feel free to continue the discussion amongst yourselves.'' 

The members of the council exchanged glances but nodded in acquiescence. Tyland gave her a small, acknowledging nod. ''Of course, Princess. We shall carry on in your absence.'' 

Visenya rose gracefully from her seat, her movements fluid, betraying none of the excitement that fluttered within her. The eyes of the council followed her as she exited the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind her with a quiet thud that left the room in a thoughtful silence. 

Once outside the council chamber, the maester waited for her just beyond the doors, holding out a small, tightly rolled scroll sealed with the direwolf of House Stark. The parchment was thick and slightly weathered from its long journey south. 

''A message from Lord Stark, Princess.'' The old man said, handing her the scroll with both hands. 

Visenya took the scroll from him, the weight of it light in her hand. ''Thank you, Maester.'' 

The maester bowed and stepped away, leaving Visenya in the quiet of the corridor. She turned and walked a few steps further down the hall, seeking a more secluded spot near a window where the light streamed in, casting a warm glow over the stone walls. There, she carefully broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. 

''Princess,'' the letter began, formal yet familiar, ''I trust this finds you well. The North is as cold as ever, but its people await your arrival with great anticipation. The preparations for your journey are underway, and I have ensured that Winterfell will be ready to receive both you and your dragon with all the respect due to your station.'' 

Visenya couldn't help but smile faintly at his mention of her dragon. The thought of Sōnax in the North, among the snow and cold, was almost surreal. 

Cregan continued. ''I also wish to inform you that the Bannermen of House Stark have been notified of your impending arrival, and they have pledged to welcome you with the respect and honour that you deserve. Rest assured, you will find strength in the North, and I will do all in my power to ensure you are welcomed as a Stark in every sense.'' 

There was a pause in the letter, almost as if he had hesitated before writing the next part. ''Until then, I will await your letters with impatience. Do not keep me waiting too long, Visenya. I find myself growing quite curious about how you are managing the regency council. I can only hope they are not giving you too many headaches, though knowing the Southern lords, I fear that might be wishful thinking.'' 

Visenya couldn’t suppress a smile at his playful tone. It was a side of Cregan that he rarely showed in his time in the Red Keep. The image of the stern Warden of the North expressing impatience for her letters, and humorously acknowledging the difficulties of dealing with the council, was endearing. ''Do not delay in writing back, for your words are a comfort in this time apart. Until we meet again, Cregan Stark.''

Taglist: @oxymakestheworldgoround

[yerimsdreams]

Duty is Sacrifice

author's note: chapter 2 is finally here! sorry for the wait, I had an exam period, but that is finally over!

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing. sentencing. mention of death and murder. spoilers for fire&blood.

The council chamber was dimly lit by the morning light filtering through narrow windows, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and the muted rustle of cloaks as the nobles took their seats. Cregan sat at the head of the table, towering above everyone else. 

Benjicot, Oscar and Kermit cautiously observed him. Kermit's fingers lightly drummed against the table as his brother and friend awaited the words of the Lord of Winterfell. 

On the other side of the table, the brothers Leowyn and Corwyn Corbray of the Vale sat with anticipation. They'd only arrived that morning in King's Landing after they had received word from Lady Arryn, who occupied a place at the opposite end of the table, her sharp gaze never leaving Cregan. 

He let the silence stretch, allowing it to settle over the room. He knew what was coming, the resistance he would face, but he remained fixed. 

''Unworthy as Aegon the Usurper might have been, his murder was high treason. Those responsible must answer for it.'' He spoke clearly, his hands clasped in front of him. 

The others remained quiet at his words, exchanging uneasy glances with one another. It was a sentiment that most did not share, but none were eager to challenge the northman so directly. 

''My lord,'' Benjicot dared to speak up, ''no one here disputes the crime that was committed, but we must consider the realm. Pursuing vengeance will only breed more unrest.'' 

''What of those who still hold Aegon the Elder's banner? What if they decide to seek a vengeance of their own in response to those imprisoned here?'' Lord Leowyn asked, shifting in his seat. 

''There are still pockets of resistance, but they are of little consequence, my Lords.'' Lady Jeyne Arryn responded to his concerns, before Cregan could. 

Lord Tully spoke up for the first time, scratching his voice. ''The Dance is done. The war is over, and the realm is in shambles. It is time to make peace.'' 

The Warden's eyes flicked to Kermit, studying the young boy's tired features. The desire for peace was palpable in the room, but so was the fear of what Cregan might do if his demands were not met.

''The realm must heal,'' he conceded, though his tone remained firm, ''but it cannot come at the mercy of justice. The killers of King Aegon II cannot be allowed to walk free, lest we invite more treachery.'' 

Kermit Tully’s drumming fingers stopped abruptly. He leaned forward, his expression serious, any trepidation that had manifested itself around Cregan gone. ''Let it be on your head, Stark. I want no part of this, but I will not have it said that Riverrun stood in the way of justice.'' 

Cregan nodded, somewhat relieved they would stop fighting him on this, even if it was done with heavy hearts and lingering doubts. 

''Aegon the Younger will have to make you Hand, my Lord. No lord has the right to put another lord to death. You will need the King's authority to act in his name.'' Ser Corwyn reminded him. If Cregan were to put sentences on the kingslayers' heads, he will at least do so according to the law. 

The Warden gave an unimpressed glare to the Corbray knight. He had no desire to undermine the authority of the King, nor to cast doubt on the justice he sought to dispense. The law would be his shield as much as his sword. 

''Then it will be done,'' Cregan declared, ''I will seek the King’s authority, and with it, the traitors will be judged.'' 

The room fell into a heavy silence. The lords and Lady Arryn exchanged uneasy glances but did little more than nod. They could sense the determination in Cregan, a man who would not easily be swayed from his course. Even if they harboured doubts, they understood that any attempt to change his mind would be futile. Cregan held the authority in court now, whether they liked it or not.

''Where is Visenya?'' Bloody Ben asked. He had waited all meeting for her to walk into the room and join them, her empty seat now gathering dust as the council continued without her.

The question hung in the air, drawing the attention of the assembled lords. Cregan looked over to the Blackwood boy, his keen eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was not only the inquiry that caught him off guard, but the casual way Benjicot referred to Visenya - by her name alone, without her title. Cregan knew that the young lord had fought alongside her, sharing the burdens of war in ways that few others could understand. But even so, the breach in formalities did not sit well with him. 

Before he could even think of a response, Jeyne's voice had him beaten again. ''It is curious, isn't it?'' She mused, her tone deceptively light, though her eyes gleamed with sharpness. ''The Princess is not one to retreat without reason.'' 

She did not know why Visenya had confined herself to her chambers for days on end, speaking to no one but the young King Aegon. However, she had her suspicions, and they pointed directly to the man sitting at the head of the table.

The lords around the table exchanged puzzled glances, not fully grasping the weight of her words, but Cregan understood. Her pointed comment was as much a question as it was an accusation, a way of nudging Cregan to acknowledge his own part in whatever had driven Visenya into isolation. 

But Cregan would not allow her to unsettle him in front of the others. ''The Princess will join us when she is ready.'' He replied, emphasising her title as he glanced at Lord Blackwood. 

''Or when you are ready for her to join us?'' She'd leaned forward as she asked, further provoking the Warden of the North. 

It was uncomfortable to watch, to say the least. The Maiden of the Vale the only one brave enough to somewhat challenge the Wolf of the North. Cregan would respect it if he was not the object of her sharp words. He knew she was testing him, trying to see how far she could push, but he was not about to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. 

''Whenever that may be,'' his voice was surprisingly calm, ''the council will continue its work. I suggest we resume our other duties now.'' 

The finality in his tone left no room for further provocation. Jeyne, though clearly unsatisfied, leaned back in her seat, her eyes still fixed on him, as if weighing his resolve. 

One by one, the lords rose from their seats exchanging quiet murmurs as they made their way out of the council chamber. The clatter of boots and swords filled the air, the heavy atmosphere easing as the chamber slowly emptied. 

Cregan lingered for a moment more, staring at the parchments in front of him. He realised his control over the court was slipping out of his hands. His plans to march on Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and Oldtown had been cast aside, undone by Visenya and Corlys's pacts of peace sent before his arrival. The trials for the traitors in the dungeons was the only thing that remained to him, and he would not let go of it. 

The room had emptied, save for one. 

Jeyne Arryn had no intention of letting him leave without a final word. She rose from her seat and approached him, her steps slow. There was an air of quiet authority about her, the kind that came from years of ruling her own domain with both strength and wisdom. 

''Lord Stark,'' she addressed him, ''a moment, if you would.'' 

Cregan paused, turning to face her with a guarded expression. He was not in the mood for more of her probing comments, but something in her demeanour told him it would be a bit different. 

''What is it you wish to discuss, my Lady?'' He acknowledged, standing up from his chair that scraped against the floor. 

She held his gaze, the silence stretching between them for a heartbeat longer than was comfortable. And then, with a tone that was both knowing and subtly accusatory, she spoke a single name.

''Visenya.''

Cregan's breath hitched for a moment, not expecting such an outright answer. The name hung between them like a drawn sword. 

''What of the Princess?'' He replied, his voice carefully neutral, though he knew it was a futile attempt to shield himself from whatever insight Jeyne was about to lay bare. Cregan could feel his pulse quicken. 

Jeyne tilted her head slightly, a look in her eyes that seemed to see through his composed exterior. ''No one has seen her or spoken to her in days. The court has taken notice, as have I. One might wonder what has driven her to such isolation.'' 

His jaw tightened, the recurring mention of her absence stirring emotions he had tried to bury. He had thought of little else but her in those silent days, his thoughts a storm of conflicting feelings. 

''Perhaps the Princess simply needs time for herself.'' He said, his voice low, though the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t sound sure of himself, and he knew it. 

The Lady's gaze softened, feeling somewhat pitiful for him. ''When the council is in need of her mind, she precludes herself? My cousin's daughter does not run when her presence is required by others.'' 

Cregan's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of controlled indifference. He wasn’t about to let Jeyne, or anyone else, see any sign of doubt or guilt. ''War has taken its toll on all of us, my Lady. I trust the Princess knows what is best for her.'' 

She noted the evasiveness in his voice. She had seen many men in positions of power adopt this same diplomatic tone, a way of deflecting blame while maintaining an air of authority. But Cregan Stark, despite his best efforts, was not fooling her. 

Jeyne's eyes narrowed, her earlier pity giving way to a sharper curiosity. ''Of course,'' she replied, her voice laced with just enough doubt to make it clear she wasn’t convinced, ''But Visenya is not one to retreat, as you have seen for yourself, I am sure. She has been through more than most can bear, yet she always finds a way to press on. So I ask again, what of the Princess, Lord Stark?''

His composure faltered, just for a heartbeat. It was a moment so brief that most might have missed it, but Jeyne Arryn was not most. ''As I said, Lady Arryn,'' he quickly recovered, ''the Princess is taking the time she needs.'' 

''She is not a woman to be underestimated, my Lord. Nor is she one to leave herself out of decisions that deeply affect her family, such as a potential execution of Lord Corlys Velaryon.'' 

She was figuring him out despite Cregan not giving anything away, it aggravated him. ''I do not underestimate her, my Lady,'' he said, keeping his tone respectful, ''I know full well what she is capable of.'' 

Jeyne studied him, letting her eyes wander over his figure. ''Do you?'' She challenged, again. 

A flash of frustration crossed his face before he masked it with his usual composure. ''If you are implying something, Lady Arryn, I suggest you say it plainly.'' 

She chuckled softly, a sound that was more calculating than amused. ''Do not let your sense of duty blind you to what is right in front of you, my Lord.'' Her tone was gentle, more advice than accusation. 

Jeyne did not press further, sensing she had said enough. She offered him a faint smile before leaving. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way out of the chamber, leaving Cregan alone with his thoughts and maps. 

As the guards closed the doors behind her, Cregan stared at the empty room and the large table in front of him. She had seen something in him, something he was not ready to admit to himself yet. 

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was eerily silent, the weight of the impending judgments pressing heavily on all present. The Iron Throne loomed in the background, a jagged, forbidding monument to the power that had been fought over so bitterly. But today, it was not the Iron Throne that commanded attention, it was the man sitting before it, on a simple wooden bench, that captured all the eyes in the room. 

Lord Cregan Stark, newly named Hand of the King, though it was less an honour and more a necessity born from the young king's fear and the absence of his formidable aunt, sat in judgement of all the turncloaks and kingslayers that had been arrested. 

The next criminal in session was Ser Perkin the Flea, a man of no great birth but of infamy enough to fill the hall. His shoulders hunched slightly, his gaze shifting nervously as he was brought forward to stand trial. The man who had once risen so high through treachery now looked small and pathetic. 

''Ser Perkin,'' Cregan acknowledged the traitor, ''you rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death. You raised up your own squire in her place, then abandoned him to save your worthless hide.'' 

The Flea opened his mouth to protest to plead his case, but Cregan continued, his voice growing colder with each word. ''The realm will be a better place without you.'' 

Desperation flared in Perkin's eyes. ''I was pardoned for those crimes, my Lord! I was forgiven!'' 

The Warden's expression did not change as he delivered his final, damning words. ''Not by me.'' 

The weight of that statement hung in the air as the Flea was led away, his fate sealed by the undaunted judgement of the Lord of Winterfell. 

Next came Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake himself. The room seemed to hold its breath as the old man was brought forward, his chains clinking softly with each step. Unlike Perkin, Corlys did not cower or plead. His gaze was steady, though weary, as he faced Cregan. 

Cregan observed him for a long moment, his thoughts unreadable. The Sea Snake had been many things - an ally, a traitor, a hero, a villain - but now, he stood accused of murder, and that was all that mattered. 

''You stand accused of murder, regicide, and high treason. How do you answer these charges, Lord Velaryon?'' His deep northern accent boomed through the Great Hall. 

Much to everyone's surprise, Corlys did not attempt to hide his guilt. ''What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.'' 

Cregan remained silent for a moment, his gaze steady, measuring Corlys’s resolve. The old man had seen countless battles, navigated treacherous waters, both literal and political, and yet here he stood, admitting to regicide without a flicker of regret.

As he stared into the Sea Snake’s eyes, Cregan’s mind drifted, if only for a heartbeat, to Visenya. Their bitter words echoed in his memory, and he felt the sting of her absence more keenly than ever. Seven days had passed since they had last spoken, seven days of not having even seen a glimpse of her. It was a wound that festered, a silent torment he could not afford to indulge.

His gaze faltered for a brief moment as those thoughts consumed him, but he quickly steeled himself. This was not the time for doubt. Corlys Velaryon had committed murder, and murder demanded justice, no matter the cost.

''I declare Lord Corlys Velaryon guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason. For his crimes, he must pay with his life.'' Cregan decided, every word a hammer blow. 

The old man stood silent, accepting the verdict with the same calm he had displayed throughout the trial. His granddaughters watched in horror as their grandsire was escorted away back to his cell in the dungeons, now a sentenced murderer and traitor. 

The price of peace was high, and today, it had claimed the Sea Snake.

The halls of the Red Keep were quieter now, the echo of recent trials still lingering in the air. The heavy weight of the verdicts hung over the castle, settling uneasily in every corner, as if the very stones themselves were absorbing the gravity of what had transpired. 

Cregan walked the corridors alone,his thoughts occupied with the day's grim duties. He was heading towards the courtyard, seeking his men, when a sudden presence halted him in his tracks. 

''You cannot do this,'' Baela's voice was steady, her expression fierce, her hand gripping the hilt of a sword, ''Aegon pardoned my grandsire. He granted him mercy, and you cannot simply take that away.'' 

Beside her, Rhaena lingered, her gaze troubled but determined. Cregan could see that while she did not entirely condone her sister's approach, she had chosen to stand by her regardless.

The Warden regarded her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching in something that was almost a smile. He recognized the fire in her eyes, a familiar Targaryen resolve that demanded to be heard. But her words, her challenge, it amused him more than it angered him.

''And you intend to force this pardon with that sword?'' Cregan asked, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. 

Baela tightened her grip on the sword, her expression remaining fierce. She had made a show of defiance, but deep down, she knew she would not raise her blade against him. Cregan saw it too, the internal struggle playing out behind her determined gaze. 

He let out a low, rumbling laugh. ''You will not use it, Princess. You are not here to fight me,'' Cregan respected Baela, she had been Jace's betrothed and his late friend had always spoken of her in high praises, ''you are here because you think you can sway me with a threat, but we both know that is not going to work.'' 

Baela clenched her jaw, her pride wounded by his dismissal. Rhaena, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. ''My sister only seeks what was promised by the King. It is not too late to honour that, Lord Stark.'' 

His laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression as he looked between the Dragon Twins. ''The King may have offered pardon, but I have not. Your grandsire committed crimes that cannot be overlooked. What’s done is done.'' 

Baela's grip did not falter as she held it up to Cregan, her eyes blazing with a mix of fury and desperation. She could see that her words alone weren't enough to sway him, so she aimed for what she hoped would be a weak spot. 

''Is that what you told Visenya, Lord Stark? Or did you wish to court her, but she rejected your Northern beastliness, and you had her imprisoned like you did our grandsire?'' 

Cregan's eyes flashed with anger at Baela's words, a fire igniting within him that he struggled to keep in check. Her comment had struck deeper than she could have known, but he would not let her see how much it affected him. 

''Whispers of the court do not concern me, Princess.'' He brushed it aside, though his voice was dangerously low, his temper barely restrained. He knew she was trying to provoke him. 

Baela's eyes narrowed as she noted his reaction. ''But they seem to concern my cousin, and what concerns her, concerns us, Lord Stark.'' She said, her tone dripping with disdain. 

His temper flared, but he forced himself to maintain his composure. ''Put the sword down, Princess. You know as well as I do that you will not be making use of it.'' 

Baela refused to back down, the fire in her eyes only growing more intense as she stared him down. ''Do you think so little of us, Lord Stark?'' She asked, her voice venomous. ''You dismiss our concerns, our family, as if they are beneath you. You should know better than to dance with a dragon.'' 

''I do not underestimate anyone,'' he retorted, the same way he had said to Lady Jeyne in the council chamber, ''least of all your cousin. Your grandfather was complicit in the poisoning of a King, even if it was the Usurper. A crime he will be punished for.'' 

Her hand slowly dropped from the sword, the fire in her eyes dimming, replaced by a mixture of frustration and resignation. Still, she was not ready to let him have the last word.

''You might believe this is justice, but there will be those who remember this as cruelty.'' She said quietly, only loud enough for him and her sister to hear. 

Cregan nodded slightly, acknowledging her words without conceding to them. ''History will judge us all, Princess.'' 

With that, he stepped past the two women, leaving them standing in the corridor. He did not slow his pace, even as doubt clawed at the edges of his mind. 

Baela's grip on the sword slackened further, her shoulders drooping as she exchanged a look with Rhaena. Her twin put a comforting hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the cold emptiness of the corridor. 

The castle was draped in silence, the kind that only settled over King's Landing in the dead of night. The corridors were empty, save for the occasional torch flickering in its sconce. Outside, the air was cool, a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth inside the castle walls.

Visenya moved quietly, her steps light as she made her way through the Great Yard. She had been to see her dragon, Sōnax, seeking solace in the dead of night when sleep eluded her. The moon cast a pale light over the paths, guiding her through the maze of hedges and flowers that had once been so meticulously tended. Now, they seemed as weary as she felt, their blooms drooping in the darkness. 

She passed the godswood, pausing against the heart tree. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, trying to ease the tension that had settled in her chest. 

It was then that she heard the faint sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate. She turned, instinctively reaching for the dagger she kept hidden in the folds of her gown ever since the start of the Dance, but she relaxed slightly when she saw who it was. 

Cregan emerged from the shadows, his tall figure illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. He had been patrolling the grounds, unable to sleep with the weight of the day’s decisions pressing down on him. The trials, the confrontations - it all swirled in his mind, leaving him restless.

They had not expected to see each other at this hour or even at all until the Lord of Winterfell would ultimately return to the North. 

The pair stared at one another, neither moving or speaking. The tension that had manifested itself in Visenya's chest had been lifted from her body and into the air between them. Cregan's dark eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Visenya did not look away.

''Princess.'' He finally greeted her, his voice rough from the lack of sleep. 

''Lord Stark.'' She nodded, her tone equally guarded. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the lines of fatigue etched into his face. It mirrored her own exhaustion, the strain of everything they had endured. 

He loosened the grip on his sword as he took a few steps closer. ''What brings you here at this hour?'' He asked, though he already suspected the answer. 

''I could ask you the same.'' She replied, her tone neutral, careful.

Cregan let out a soft breath, almost a chuckle, but it lacked any real humour. ''I suppose neither of us has found much comfort in sleep lately.'' 

Visenya nodded, her gaze turning back to the large tree behind her. ''The nights are long when ones thoughts are troubled.'' 

''And yours are troubled, Princess?'' He asked, taking a step closer, though still keeping a respectful distance. 

Her eyes flickered back to his. ''They are. As are yours, I imagine.'' 

Cregan did not provide her with an answer right away, instead watching her. He looked at her, really looked at her, and he could see the toll that the last few days had taken on her. She was still beautiful, even in all her fatigue and unrest. 

''Yes,'' he said, his voice thoughtful, ''there is much to ponder about.'' 

''The trials, I suppose.'' She was leaning against the tree, observing every step and move he made. 

Cregan stopped his pacing and turned to face her. ''Indeed.'' 

''I know what you think of his actions,'' Visenya sighed, '' and I agree that poison is a coward's weapon.'' Her gaze became distant, as if dreaming. 

The Wolf of the North nodded along, his expression one of contemplation.

''When I flew to King's Landing, I only had one purpose; to kill my half-brother, to kill him as he had my sister, by burning him alive and feeding him to my dragon. You can imagine my anger when I arrived here and I am told that the Usurper is dead, and by poison of all ways,'' she chuckled, though the sound was devoid of real mirth. 

''However, I am glad he got a coward's death. My sister died like a true Targaryen, in fire and blood. Her death will be a grand story told for centuries, but no one will remember his. The story of his demise will fade because it lacked the valour and the strength that he lacked,'' She admitted, almost sounding proud. 

Cregan nodded slowly, understanding the fierce loyalty and pride that Visenya held for her family. 

''But there are others who acted not out of cowardice, but out of duty to the realm, to their family. They deserve a different fate.'' She met his gaze again, sorrow in her eyes. 

Cregan's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing where the conversation was leading. ''Lord Corlys Velaryon?'' 

Visenya nodded. ''I ask you one last time to reconsider his sentence. Yes, he made a choice that many would condemn, but without him, Aegon would not be alive today.'' 

He remained unreadable, though his eyes softened slightly. ''You ask much, Princess. The law cannot bend every time someone believes their cause is just.'' 

She stepped closer to him, her violet eyes locked onto his.''If not for the stability of the realm, if not for the honour of my nephew, if not for the sake of peace, for me. A personal boon.'' 

Cregan studied her, the sincerity in her voice piercing through the walls he had built around himself. ''And if I were to grant this boon, what would you offer in return, Princess?'' There was a hint of curiosity, the first time the mighty Warden of the North could actually sound like his conviction could be persuaded. 

''In return, I will give you whatever you desire, Lord Stark.'' Visenya answered, her voice strong despite the tremor in her earlier plea. 

He could see the desperation in her eyes, the way she held herself with a dignity that was both regal and vulnerable. The offer she made was not one to be taken lightly. 

''What I desire?'' He repeated, almost as if testing the weight of those words. He looked down, thoughtful, then back at her, his gaze piercing through the darkness. ''What if what I desire is not something you are willing to give?'' 

Visenya stiffened slightly, her heart pounding as she anticipated what he might say. ''Name it.'' She said, though there was a hint of apprehension in her voice. 

Cregan took another step, closing the distance between them. ''What I desire is all of you, forever.'' 

Visenya felt the air catch in her throat as Cregan's words hung between them. It was as if the entire world had paused, waiting for her response. His dark eyes, intense and unwavering, held hers captive, and for a moment, she found herself unable to speak.

''All of me?'' She managed to whisper. She was not sure if it was a question or an incredulous statement.

Cregan nodded, his expression solemn. ''Yes. Your hand in marriage, your loyalty, your trust - everything that you are, everything that you could be. Not just for a night or a season, but for as long as we both shall live.'' 

She searched his eyes, looking for a trace of jest or manipulation, but found only earnestness. The Warden of the North was not a man to make light of such things. The very idea was preposterous - her, a Targaryen, bound to the North? Yet, in that moment, it felt as though he was offering something more than a mere proposal. It was an invitation to a different kind of life, one far away from King's Landing. 

She let out a small, breathless laugh, one that held no humour. ''Are you mad, my Lord? A Targaryen in the North?'' 

Cregan's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. ''Perhaps I am, my Princess. But madness and greatness often walk hand in hand, do they not?'' 

Visenya regarded him, the idea swirling in her mind. It was mad, audacious, and yet... "You would truly ask this of me? To marry into the North, where winter reigns and dragons do not fly?"

He nodded, his expression unwavering. ''I would. The North may be a land of ice and snow, but it is also a land of honour, of strength, and of loyalty. It is a place where bonds are not easily broken, where words are not just spoken but lived, my Princess.'' 

''It is no place for dragons, nor for those who carry their blood.'' She shook her head. 

''And yet, here you are,'' he countered, ''a dragon in King's Landing, a place that has brought you nothing but pain and loss. What has this city given you that the North could not? What has this life offered you, other than endless war and treachery?'' 

She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. His questions struck at the heart of her fears, her uncertainties. The life she had known was one of fire and blood, of power plays and betrayals. But what had it truly brought her? What had it cost her?

Everything. 

Cregan took her silence as an opportunity to continue. ''I offer you more than just a marriage, Princess. I offer you a chance to build something new, something not tainted by the ghosts of the past.'' 

Visenya felt a chill run down her spine, though she was not sure if it was the cold night air or the weight of his words. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it - a life in Winterfell, far from the scheming of King’s Landing, the endless battles for power. A life with a man who, despite his stern exterior, had shown her a kind of respect and understanding she had not expected. 

But the thought of leaving everything behind, of binding herself to a man she barely knew, was terrifying. ''You ask much of me, my Lord.'' She remarked, her voice slightly trembling. 

''And you asked much of me, my Princess.'' He retorted gently. 

''You are right,'' she chuckled, ''I did ask much of you.'' 

Visenya looked down, her thoughts a tangled web of doubt and longing. She had always been a Targaryen, defined by her name, her blood, her dragon. But what had that brought her? Loss after loss, betrayal after betrayal. 

''What of my dragon? Sōnax is a creature of fire and sky, bound to me as I am to her.'' She could not leave her behind, she'd seen how Seasmoke had acted when Laenor left. She did not want Sōnax to be subjected to the same fate. 

''She would find her place,'' he assured her, his eyes not leaving hers, ''The North may be cold, but it is also vast, with endless skies and mountains that reach the heavens. She will not be confined, just as you will not be.'' 

It did not feel real to her. As a young girl, she had imagined how her betrothal would go. She figured it would be much like her sister's, one to strengthen alliances and no regard for what either the bride or groom want. There was no room for dreams or desires. It was all about duty. 

Despite asking him for a favour, his proposal almost felt like a choice. It felt foreign, strange, like something she was not accustomed to. To have a choice in something so monumental felt both liberating and terrifying.

''And if I say yes, if I agree to this... I want to be your equal. I do not wish for you to rule, while my only purpose would be to squeeze out heirs like a broodmare.'' She was firm and resolute, no room for arguing. 

Cregan took her hand, engulfed by his. ''You would be my equal in every way, my Princess. We do not see women as mere vessels for heirs. I already have one, my son Rickon. We value strength, wisdom, and the ability to lead, regardless of one's gender.  If you stand beside me as my wife, you will be a Lady of Winterfell, not just in name but in action.'' 

Visenya felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, a stark contrast to the cool night air that surrounded them. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, his grey eyes filled with a depth of sincerity she had not encountered before. 

With a deep breath, she nodded, her decision crystallising in the quiet of the night. ''I will marry you, Lord Stark. A hand for a head.'' She agreed, grinning. 

A genuine look of joy and relief crossed Cregan's face. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. ''Then it is settled,'' he said, his voice warm with emotion, ''I will have my men release Lord Corlys from his cell when the sun rises.'' 

''Thank you, my Lord.'' She expressed quietly. 

''Cregan.'' He corrected gently. 

''What?'' Visenya blinked, caught off guard by his sudden informality.

''You may call me Cregan.'' He repeated, his smile softening. 

Visenya hesitated for a moment before nodding, a small smile forming on her lips. ''Then you may call me Visenya.'' She offered in return. 

The familiarity between them, though still new, felt strangely comfortable. 

''I will be leaving for Winterfell once the sentences have been carried out.'' Cregan informed her, still holding onto her hand. 

She nodded, the gravity of his words not lost on her. ''So soon,'' she murmured, squeezing his larger hand as if to hold onto the moment a little longer, ''I will have to stay here longer. For Aegon, he needs me here for the time being.'' 

''I know,'' he mumbled back, ''your duty to him comes first. But when your time here is done, Winterfell will be waiting for you...and so will I.'' 

There was a tenderness in his words that made Visenya's heart ache. She gave him a small nod, her grip on his hand tightening for just a moment before she finally let go. 

''We will discuss the formalities once we both have found some rest. I am retiring for the night.'' She announced, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the past week catching up with her as she leaned against the tree. 

Cregan noticed the weariness in her posture and stepped forward. ''Allow me to escort you to your chambers, my Princess.'' He offered his arm, for her to support her weight. 

Visenya smiled softly, touched by his offer but aware of the distance between their quarters. ''You are kind, Cregan, but your chambers are far, and you need rest as well. We have both endured enough for one night.'' Her words were gentle, her refusal a considerate one. 

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, understanding her reasoning. ''As you wish,'' he accepted, ''goodnight, my betrothed.'' She could see a hint of a smirk on his face. 

''Goodnight, my betrothed.'' Visenya echoed, the words feeling both strange and comforting on her lips. 

With one last look, they parted ways, each retreating to their respective chambers. 

As Visenya walked away, the weight of their conversation settled over her like a heavy cloak. She had made a decision that would change the course of her life, and yet, she felt a strange sense of peace. It was not the peace that came from certainty, but the kind that came from acceptance, from choosing a path and committing to it. 

Cregan watched her until she disappeared into the castle, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He had asked for her hand not out of a simple desire for power or alliance, but because he saw how fiercely she protected those who had stood by her sister and their family.

He wanted to be the object of her loyalty, amidst other things. 

taglist: @oxymakestheworldgoround

[yerimsdreams]

The Hour of the Wolf

author's note: so this is a series i started instead of studying for my exams lol. and also a coping mechanism to deal with the hotd drought.

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: mentions of death. spoilers for fire&blood. swearing.

''The King is dead.'' 

The declaration reverberated through the cold corridors of the Red Keep, carrying with it a chill that seemed to seep into the bones of those who heard it. A murmur of unease rippled through the assembled lords and men, their breaths hanging in the cold air like ghosts. At the front of the gathering stood Cregan Stark, every inch the embodiment of the North in his fur-lined cloak and somber demeanor, flanked by his men, who loomed like shadows behind him. 

''By whose hand and by whose sword, I wonder?'' He inquired, looking down on the Lord of Driftmark, not swayed by his formidable reputation. 

Corlys' gaze briefly faltered at the question, his hand tightening around the pommel of his cane, glancing down at the polished floor of the Red Keep.

''Poison, my lord.'' A voice spoke from inside the council chamber, one that belonged to a young lord from the Riverlands. 

Cregan glanced behind Corlys, finding Lord Benjicot Blackwood along with Ser Oscar Tully and his older brother Lord Kermit Tully. ''Do the babes speak true?'' His voice held a sneer, the insult landing heavily on the youthful lords, who bristled at the disrespect but found themselves unable to summon a retort in the face of the imposing northerner.

The Lads, as they were known, shuffled uneasily, their courage waning under the Northman's scrutiny. Even their proud lineage did little to steel their nerves against the palpable menace in Cregan's gaze.

Corlys curtly nodded, though in comparison to the little lords in the room, he was unmoved by Cregan Stark's appearance and berating. ''Aye.''

The Lord's grey eyes shifted to his own men, nodding his head to the Sea Snake, a silent order to seize him. Without a word, two of Cregan's guards stepped forward, their heavy boots thudding against the stone floor. The King's Landing guards hesitated, their hands inching toward their swords, but they were swiftly disarmed by the northerners, who moved with the swift precision of wolves on the hunt.

The Sea Snake was dragged into the hallways and escorted to the dungeons, without as much as a word from the old man. 

Cregan's focus lay with the Lads now, fully stepping into the council chamber, his presence casting a long shadow across the room. ''Who told you the war was done? The Clubfoot? The Snake? Because you won your little battle in the mud? Wars end when the defeated bend the knee and not-'' 

''What is the meaning of this?'' 

Every man turned at the sound of the undaunted voice echoing from the hallway, curious who would dare question the Wolf in the North.

It was a surprising sight, and quite the contrast to Lord Stark: a smaller woman with violet eyes and long silver hair cascading loosely over her shoulders.

For most men in the room, it was their first encounter with a Targaryen Princess. The North spoke of the Targaryens as otherworldly beings - riders of dragons, with a fiery temper to match their beasts. They were described as possessing an ethereal beauty, almost unearthly. 

Yet, the woman standing before them exceeded these tales. They depicted the ruling family as if they were part of a distant legend, but here stood a living, breathing embodiment of those legends, surpassing them in every way. 

Princess Visenya Targaryen

Kermit, Oscar and Benji let out a relieved sigh as she made her way into the large room, finally a familiar face that would save them from the Stark's wrath. 

''Princess,'' Cregan bowed his head, following her figure, ''these boys-''

''These young men,'' she corrected, her tone brooking no argument, ''have been our courageous allies and should be treated as such.'' She vouched for them, facing the Lord of Winterfell. 

Cregan tightened his jaw, but merely nodded at the woman in front of him. 

She could sense the conflict in his eyes, she momentarily glanced at the sigil on his chest before continuing. ''Lord Stark, I have worked closely with them. They are not the ones who should be berated for their deeds.'' 

''The King is dead, Princess. The men accountable are the same men ruling in your nephew's place.'' Cregan said, straightening his posture. 

''My nephew pardoned them.'' She stepped closer, her voice steady but firm. 

His expression hardened at her words. ''They were not pardoned by me.'' His tone dropping to a growl as he loomed over her. 

Visenya was visibly bewildered by his response, wondering how he had seemingly grasped all authority to himself within a few hour span. ''And who are you to the King? What is a wolf to a dragon?'' She retorted, a challenge thrown down at his feet.

''A meal.'' Benjicot quipped from the sidelines, earning stifled chuckles from his companions.

Cregan's head turned towards the Blackwood lord, his eyes flashing with annoyance. ''Watch your tongue, boy.'' He warned. 

The three young men immediately fell silent, their gazes back to the ground. 

The Princess took a deep breath, her voice colder than the Northern winds. ''You overstep, Lord Stark. You cannot simply cast aside royal decrees because they do not suit you. My nephew's will is the law.'' 

''His will, perhaps,'' Cregan allowed, ''but not his wisdom. He is a boy, one-and-ten. Do you want him to be surrounded by turncloaks and kingslayers?'' He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, the heat of his breath mingling with the frost of her resolve.

''Lord Stark,'' she said, her voice trembling with restrained anger, ''do not think you can intimidate me with your Northern bluster. I have faced dragons and men far fiercer than you.'' 

A tense silence followed her words, only the distant sound of the smallfolk audible. The Lads watched as the King's aunt squandered off with the Warden of the North. 

Then, unexpectedly, Cregan’s stern expression softened into something resembling admiration. ''Very well, my Princess,'' his voice softened, ''your counsel is appreciated.'' 

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded, her resolve firm. She glanced behind the broad-shouldered lord to look at his men. ''Larys Strong, Septon Eustace, Perkin the Flea and Grand Maester Orwyle. Bring them to the dungeons, and do not shy away from violence.'' 

The northmen moved swiftly to obey, much to Lord Stark's astonishment. He watched, somewhat bemused, as his own men followed the orders of someone else. 

Cregan's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he turned back to the woman in front of him, his respect growing for the Targaryen Princess. ''You have a commanding presence, Princess. I'll give you that.'' 

Visenya met his gaze, giving him a grateful nod. ''I shall take my leave now.'' 

As she made an advance to leave the room, Cregan's voice stopped her. ''Uh, Princess, may I have a word with you? In private.'' 

She paused, the request catching her by surprise. For a moment, she considered his words, the flicker of curiosity sparking in her violet eyes. Then, with a composed nod, she acquiesced. ''You may.'' She turned to Benjicot, Kermit and Oscar. ''You're excused, we will speak later.'' 

The Lads curtsied at her words, happy to oblige. Before they left the chamber, Ben and Oscar pretended to kiss one another, teasing the Princess as Cregan had his back turned to them. 

She shook her head at their banter, but chuckled nonetheless. ''What can I do for you, my lord?'' 

''I would like for your nephew, the King, to strictly remain in his royal apartment for the time being.'' He suggested, a more serious expression on his face. 

The woman frowned, her arms crossing instinctively over her chest as she processed his words. ''Why?'' 

''His safety. As long as the men who poisoned the usurper are still alive and in this castle, he is not safe with anyone but you. We cannot afford to take any risks with his life.'' His tone was firm, but gentle. 

Visenya studied him, weighing his words, realising they were true. ''You should tell him yourself. I think Aegon should meet the man who is still fighting in his mother's name.'' 

Cregan nodded, offering the best of a smile a man from the North could. ''It would be an honour, Princess.'' He bowed. 

She bit back a smirk as he slightly bent over, amused by how Lord Stark's demeanour had changed from when she first walked into the council chamber. 

''Follow me, my lord.'' She motioned her head towards the large doors. 

The Princess led him to Aegon's apartment in Maegor's Holdfast, not much words being spoken between the two allies. 

She stopped the northman a few steps away from entering the King's room. ''Lord Stark, I must remind you that my nephew has endured a lot these last years. Besides me and his sisters, he has no one left. He… appears like a child, but he no longer is one. Do you understand?'' She spoke softly, a certain vulnerability present when talking about the young boy. 

Cregan was touched by it, empathising with the losses the Targaryen family had suffered. He knew how it felt for he had suffered great losses of his own in his father and younger brother. 

''I understand, my Princess.'' He nodded. 

She smiled, grateful for his understanding. ''Good.'' They continued walking until they stood in front of Aegon's door, greeting the Kingsguard who were present there. 

The eleven-year old sat by the window, looking out on the city. 

''Aegon, this is Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell. He would like to speak with you.'' His aunt carefully introduced him to the boy, who slowly turned towards them. 

Unlike his aunt, Aegon did seem to feel overwhelmed by the man that was towering over him as if he was the Wall himself. Cregan offered a respectful bow to the young king. ''Your grace.''

Aegon, who had been silent since their entrance, nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between the imposing figure of the northman and his aunt, who stood nearby with an encouraging but anxious expression.

Visenya moved to gently put her hands on his shoulders. ''Lord Stark has been a great ally of ours. He was a friend of Jace.'' 

The mention of his late eldest brother briefly brought a spark to his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. 

''Me and your brother hunted together,'' Cregan's gaze was earnest as he addressed the boy, his tone steady and devoid of the harshness that had marked his earlier confrontations, ''he had a real knack for it.'' 

Aegon simply nodded, leaning more into his aunt's touch the longer the conversation went on. 

''Aegon, you'll have to stay in here a bit longer.'' The Princess cautiously told him, squeezing his shoulder. 

He looked up at her, pouting his lips. ''Why am I not free yet?'' 

''It is for your safety, your Grace,'' Cregan answered, ''this city is full of vipers. There are liars, turncloaks, and poisoners in this court who would murder you as quick as they did your uncle to secure their own power.'' 

''Who did?'' His small voice asked, having his aunt hold him closer. 

''Lord Strong, Lord Velaryon, the Flea, and more.'' Stark responded, briefly glancing at the Princess. 

Aegon frowned at the answer. ''But, they are my friends.'' 

The Princess wanted to sob at the pureness with which her nephew spoke, somehow still blind to the acts his ''trusted'' companions had committed. 

Cregan knelt beside him. ''False friends are far more dangerous to a king than any foe, your Grace. The Snake, the Clubfoot, and the Flea only saved you to make use of you, to rule Westeros in your name.'' He replied, his words wise. 

The King's frown did not disappear, but he let the Lord's answer sink in. He looked up at his aunt, seeking reassurance. 

She knelt beside Cregan, cupping Aegon's face. ''You must be careful of whom you trust. I know this is difficult, my sweet boy. But I believe in your abilities. You are as brave as your brothers, as wise as your mother, and as daring as your father.'' 

The Warden of the North stood back up on his feet, feeling as if he was intruding on a private, family matter. He simply watched as the Princess spoke encouragement into her nephew, looking nothing like the woman who had waltzed into the council chamber and put him in his place. 

He'd heard the whispers of King Viserys' second daughter, the spare to the Iron Throne. His closest friend, Lord Cerwyn, had once told Cregan a story of how the younger sister of Rhaenyra had been merely two-and-ten when she tried to burn a group of young lords in dragonfire when they'd all tried to ask for her hand in marriage. Another tale claimed the Princess had locked the Dowager Queen Alicent, her stepmother, into a tower and had tried to feed the key to one of the dragons in the Dragonpit. 

Cregan was sure that parts of the hearsay must have been fabricated to put the Princess under a certain light, but doubts danced around his mind. The way she'd stormed into the counselling room had been bold, the way she'd spoken to him and had commanded his men was fierce. But seeing her now, comforting the young king with such tenderness, Cregan realised there was much more to her than the stories conveyed. She was a guardian, a protector of her family and those loyal to her. 

Aegon seemed to draw strength from her words, his small frame relaxing slightly. ''I will try to be brave and wise, Aunt.'' 

She smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. ''I know you will,'' she leaned forward and kissed his temple, ''I think you can use a good night of rest, my boy. I will see you in the morning, okay?'' 

Her nephew nodded timidly, still a bit unnerved by the presence of Lord Stark. ''Okay.'' 

''Goodnight, sweet boy.'' She ruffled his hair as he quietly whispered the word back to her. His eyes darted over to the northman next to her. ''Thank you, Lord Stark.'' 

Cregan inclined his head. ''You are welcome, your Grace. I wish you a night of rest.'' 

As they left Aegon's chambers, Visenya closed the door gently behind her, the heavy oak creaking slightly before settling into silence. Cregan scratched his voice, the sound coming out like a grunt. 

''Let me escort you to your chambers, Princess. It is no time for a Princess of the Realm to walk these halls alone.'' He offered, gesturing towards the shadowy corridor that led to the royal apartments.

Visenya let out a chuckle, a look of pity in her eyes. ''Lord Stark, it is not I who should be afraid of wandering these corridors alone, if I may put it so forwardly.'' 

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. ''Why may that be, Princess?'' 

She started walking towards her personal chambers, leaving a curious Stark to trail behind her. ''I am grateful for your presence here at court, my Lord. You have continued to fight for her, even after her tragic death,'' she swallowed hard at the thought of her sister's passing, ''and for that you have my eternal gratitude.'' 

The Warden nodded, tilting his head. ''But…'' 

''But not everyone shares my sentiment.'' She glanced at him, her expression serious. 

Cregan's smile faded, sensing where she was going with this. ''Forgive my bluntness, Princess, but I have the upper hand here. Anyone who dares raise a hand against me or my men will have it removed.'' 

Visenya stopped in her tracks, Cregan frowning as he waited beside her. ''Lord Stark, I do not doubt that. However, this is King's Landing, this is not the North. Kin slays kin here to sit on a wretched and cursed chair,''

''This court is a game. You either make the rules or you obey them.'' She finished, her body now fully turned towards him. 

The Wolf held her gaze, her violet eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. ''And what role do you suggest I play in this game, Princess? Am I to be the enforcer or the pawn?'' 

Visenya resumed her steps towards her room, the northern lord following her. ''Neither.'' 

His brows furrowed. ''Neither?'' He echoed, puzzled by her cryptic response.

''You, Lord Stark, will punish the enforcers and pawns. Make an end to this continuous cycle of treachery and selfishness so my nephew can rule in peace without men clawing at his neck for even an ounce of power.''

Her words were strong, yet with a hint of vulnerability as she begged the Lord of Winterfell to make sure her nephew could be a King, but more importantly, a boy who was surrounded by people that wanted the best for the Realm and him, and not themselves or their Houses. 

''In the North, we do not break our oaths, Princess. My father pledged his support to yours and his chosen heir, your sister. I will see to it myself that Aegon will sit on the Iron Throne, with good counsel to uplift him during his reign. I promise this to you.'' He said firmly, his eyes fixed on hers as he made a vow to protect her nephew. 

Visenya now realised why Rhaenyra had been so keen on having the North on their side. The House of the Wolfs never forgot an oath, it was not to be broken, even in death. Lord Cregan Stark was a young lord, her age, but he carried himself as if he had lived a full life as the King in the North. 

She took a deep breath, her expression softening as she regarded the Warden of the North. ''You're an honourable man, Lord Stark. It's a rare thing to find.'' 

Cregan inclined his head slightly, a hint of a smile touching his lips. Her sincerity touched him. ''Honour is all we have in the North, my Princess. Without it, we are nothing.'' 

As they reached the entrance to Visenya’s chambers, she stopped and turned to face him. ''Then may your honour guide us through the trials ahead.'' 

He nodded, a resolve settling in his eyes. ''Goodnight, Princess. Rest well.'' 

''Goodnight, my Lord.'' She replied, her tired eyes looking up at him. 

Despite their bids of goodbyes, neither moved. The dim light of the torches cast flickering shadows on their faces, highlighting the quiet intensity in their eyes. 

''Princess,'' Cregan said delicately, his voice almost a whisper, ''if you wish I can command one of my men to guard your door for the coming nights.'' 

Visenya gently shook her head, appreciating the gesture. ''That won't be necessary, my Lord. But thank you.'' 

Cregan nodded, respecting her decision. ''As you wish, Princess. I'll leave you now.'' 

As she turned to enter her chambers, Visenya glanced back at him one last time, her eyes meeting his. ''Goodnight.'' She murmured again. 

''Goodnight.'' The Warden replied, his voice equally soft. 

He stepped back, allowing Visenya to enter her chambers. As the door closed behind her, Cregan stood there for a moment longer, finding himself unable to move away from her quarters. 

He took a deep breath, settling his hand back on his sword, Ice, as he tried to steady his thoughts. Cregan had never been intrigued by another person as much as he was with Princess Visenya Targaryen. Her strength and tenderness had stirred something within him, a feeling he couldn't easily shake. 

She was an enigma to him. 

With a final nod to himself, he turned and walked away, his steps echoing in the quietness of Maegor's Holdfast. The image of the Valyrian princess haunting his mind. 

The night was silent, save for the distant howl of the wind outside the castle walls, a reminder of the harsh world that still remained. 

The following day dawned clear and brisk. Visenya had been summoned from her quarters to greet the arrived Maiden of the Vale, Lady Jeyne Arryn. The Lady of the Eyrie stood awaiting in the courtyard of the Red Keep, her presence regal. 

Both women's eyes lit up as Visenya appeared through the castle doors. ''Good morrow, cousin.'' Jeyne called out warmly, moving to embrace her. 

''My Lady, it's good to see you.'' The Princess returned the embrace with a tight, affectionate squeeze. 

''Visenya, my dear,'' they pulled away, but held each other's hands, ''my condolences. Your sister was a brave woman, one of a kind.'' 

The younger woman gratefully nodded. ''Thank you, cousin.'' 

''How are you holding up?'' Jeyne asked, squeezing Visenya's hands. 

Visenya momentarily glanced to the ground beneath them, gathering her thoughts. ''It has been challenging, my Lady. But your presence here brings me strength.'' 

Jeyne's eyes filled with understanding, feeling for the losses Visenya had endured. ''We must be strong for each other, Princess. Your nephew needs you in these dire times.'' 

She nodded, drawing comfort from her words. ''Indeed,'' she smiled, ''where is Rhaena? Did she not join you?'' Visenya glanced around, but seeing no sign of the young Targaryen woman. 

''She wished to see her brother immediately,'' Jeyne explained her absence, ''her twin sister Baela joined our journey from Dragonstone. They're with Aegon together.'' 

Visenya's smile widened at the news of the Dragon Twins. ''He'll be relieved to see them.'' 

As they spoke, a group of riders on horseback entered through the gates, with Lord Stark leading them. The Targaryen princess noticed him first, unconsciously smiling as he dismounted from his mare. Jeyne followed her line of sight and raised an eyebrow at her family member. 

Cregan, catching sight of the two women standing in the middle of the courtyard, decided to approach. He said something to his men before walking over to the Princess and Lady. 

Visenya subtly straightened her posture, a faint smile tugging at her lips. ''Lady Jeyne Arryn, allow me to introduce Lord Cregan Stark. Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North.'' 

The man bowed his head in a formal greeting, his gaze respectful. ''Lady Arryn, it is an honour to meet you.'' 

Jeyne returned the greeting with a gracious nod. ''Lord Stark, the honour is mine. I've heard much about your steadfast loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra.'' 

Cregan smiled politely, his eyes briefly flickering to Visenya before returning to Jeyne. ''I only do what is necessary for the North and the realm.'' 

The Maiden's keen gaze didn't miss the subtle exchange between the two. She turned back to Visenya with a knowing smile. ''Well, it seems the North is in good hands.'' 

Before Visenya could respond, a commotion broke out at the doors of the Red Keep. Baela stormed in, with Rhaena following closely behind. 

''Why are we not allowed to see Aegon?'' Baela demanded, her voice echoing through the courtyard. ''He is our brother!'' 

Visenya raised an eyebrow, seeing that her younger cousin had not lost her fiery temper in the time they had spent apart. ''It is nice to see you too, Baela. I missed you dearly.'' Her voice tinged with sarcasm. 

Baela shot her cousin a frustrated look but didn’t respond to the sarcasm. Cregan stepped forward, his expression calm but firm. ''It is for the King's safety. Until we can ensure his protection, we must limit who can see him.'' 

''We are his family! We would never harm him. This is absurd!'' Baela interrupted, her tone heated as she took a step closer to the Warden, sizing him up. 

Rhaena, quieter but just as determined, added. ''Lord Stark, we only want to see our beloved brother.'' 

Cregan looked on amusingly as Baela continued staring at him, her gaze unwavering. 

''My Lord, you cannot possibly keep the boy locked up with only his aunt as a companion. Let the girls see him. It will do more good than harm.'' Jeyne said, supporting Baela and Rhaena. 

The Wolf glanced to Visenya, whose expression had softened slightly. ''He needs his family, Lord Stark.'' 

Cregan hesitated, his stern demeanour faltering under the combined pressure of the women. Finally, he sighed. ''Very well. But I must insist on maintaining strict security measures.'' He yielded, begrudgingly. 

Baela's fierce gaze softened, and she nodded in appreciation. ''Thank you, Lord Stark.'' 

''We appreciate it.'' Rhaena added quietly. 

Cregan nodded curtly, still not entirely comfortable but willing to concede for the sake of the young king and his family. As the sisters hurried off to see their brother, Visenya lingered a moment longer, her eyes meeting Cregan's. 

''Thank you.'' She said, her gratitude clear. 

The Warden simply nodded, still seeming a bit aggravated by having essentially been overruled. ''If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to.'' 

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Visenya and Jeyne standing together. Jeyne watched him go, then turned to her cousin with a knowing smile. 

Jeyne’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ''It seems the Wolf in the North is quite taken with you, my Princess.'' She teased. 

Visenya frowned, though a warmth climbed up her neck. ''What do you mean?'' 

''Cregan Stark is a man of few words, but he seemed quite intent on every one he spoke to you.'' The Maiden responded, a hint of playful knowing in her gaze. 

Visenya’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced in the direction Cregan had gone, feeling a flutter of unease. ''I am his only way to get everyone to listen to him, Cousin. It's just political.'' 

Jeyne sighed. ''Even the most stoic men cannot always hide what is beneath the surface. Every man has the same weakness, Visenya. You of all people know that.'' 

Visenya's expression grew contemplative, her eyes lowering to her clasped hands. ''I will have one of my ladies guide you to your chambers. I am needed at the library.'' She deflected, scratching her voice. 

The older woman nodded understandingly, though her gaze remained thoughtful. ''Of course, Visenya. I appreciate your hospitality.'' She decided to drop the topic of Lord Stark, sensing her cousin's daughter had not yet fully come to terms with her own desires. 

As Jeyne followed the lady-in-waiting to her chambers, Visenya turned and made her way toward the library, intending on grabbing some books for Aegon to read or for her to read for him. 

Once in the library, she was relieved to have found some peace and alone time. As she meandered through the shelves, her fingers brushing lightly against the spines of countless volumes, her mind drifted back to the conversation with Jeyne.

Lord Cregan Stark could not possibly open his heart to her, could he? His presence is as imposing as the North represents, but he'd been gentle when they visited Aegon the night before. He is honourable, as he has shown time and again, but he carried himself with a sense of authority that was both commanding and, at times, overwhelming. 

Visenya’s gaze fell on a particularly old tome, its leather cover worn with age. She reached out and gently pulled it from the shelf, her thoughts still circling around Cregan. The image of him, standing in the courtyard with a hint of something softer in his eyes, contrasted sharply with the stern figure he often projected.

She opened the book, the musty scent of old paper filling her senses. Her eyes traced the faded ink that had been placed there by her ancestor of whom she bore the name. 

Queen Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon the Conqueror. 

It had been Rhaenyra who came to their parents with the name. Her older sister had always had an affinity for Vhagar's first rider. Some people would suggest that she was not a role model, but herself and her sister had always disagreed with that sentiment. The Queen had once wielded immense power and influence, even after Aegon passed away. 

Perhaps she should find strength in the legacy of her ancestor. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and the door to the library swinging open. A familiar voice, filled with barely contained fury, cut through her reverie. 

''Visenya!'' Baela's voice echoed, sharp with anger. 

Visenya’s heart sank, her moment of peace abruptly shattered. ''Baela, my girl, please refrain-'' 

''Our grandsire! Why is he rotting away in the dungeons?'' She demanded to know, frustrated beyond belief. 

She closed the book and placed it back on the shelf with deliberate calm. ''Baela,'' she began, her tone measured, ''Lord Corlys was involved in the poisoning of the Usurper.'' 

Baela frowned, her arms flying everywhere. ''And? Is that not a good thing? The cunt is dead.'' Removing Aegon from the throne had been the entire purpose of the war, why was her grandfather being punished for it? 

Visenya sighed, preparing herself for the difficult task of justifying why Corlys sat in the dungeons along with the others. ''I know, but he committed treason, along with Larys Strong. Whether we found him a Pretender or not, a King was killed. I know he wouldn't, but I cannot allow to have traitors guiding your brother in his minority.'' 

Baela's eyes blazed with rage. ''He was fighting for our family! How could you let this happen? He is rotting down there!'' 

''What would you have me do, Baela?'' Visenya raised her voice. ''It was Lord Stark and his men that arrested them. I know he did it to help us and to help Aegon, but Lord Stark has a point.'' 

The younger girl clenched her fists, her voice trembling with emotion. ''And why does he have the right to do all of this? He comes in two years late, and thinks he can just take over? He made a promise to Jace! Do you think he would have wanted his grandsire executed?'' 

The mention of Jacaerys had her heart ache. Baela was right, Jace would not have wanted this, but Jace also would have wanted his younger brother to be safe. 

''Jacaerys would want us to protect Aegon. Lord Stark is trying to help us do that, even if his methods seem harsh.'' Visenya took a deep breath, struggling to keep her emotions in check. 

Baela's eyes filled with tears, her anger mingling with despair. ''You cannot let this happen, Visenya! He acted in the good of the realm. He did this for us! For you!'' 

It pained her to see her cousin in this state, but she did not have the power here. ''Baela, there is only so much that I can do.'' 

The girl's desperation was palpable. ''But you must do something! You have influence,'' Baela took a few steps towards her, tightly grabbing her hands, ''I am begging you, Cousin. We have already lost so much, we cannot lose him as well.'' 

Visenya felt the weight of Baela's plea pressing on her. The Wolf had been adamant in his arrest of the men involved in Aegon's murder, but she could at least try. 

''I will speak to him,'' she relented, quickly continuing before Baela could interject, ''but I do not promise you anything. My influence knows its limits.'' 

Baela embraced her family member, holding her close ''Thank you. Thank you. I know you will do your best.'' 

The older woman returned the embrace, resting her chin on Baela's shoulder. ''I am happy to see you again, my girl. You've been vigilant.'' 

The pair had not seen each other since Visenya left Dragonstone for Harrenhal, to assist the Riverlands in Daemon's absence as he flew with Caraxes for King's Landing with Rhaenyra. 

''You too,'' Baela sniffed, more tears streaming down her cheeks, ''without you none of us would be here.'' 

Visenya gently pulled back, wiping a tear from Baela's cheek. ''It's over now, and we still have each other. That is the only thing that matters.'' 

Baela nodded, her eyes still shimmering with tears but now holding a spark of hope. ''I trust you, Cousin. I will wait for your word. And thank you, truly. For everything.'' She hugged her once more before stepping back. 

''I will see you soon, before supper.'' Visenya nodded, to herself and to Baela. 

With a nod, the younger woman left the library, almost running to tell her sister of the promise Visenya had made to them. 

The Princess let out a deep breath that she had been holding in from the moment Baela stormed in. She knew it would be difficult to change Lord Stark's mind, especially on the matter of treason and broken oaths. She needed to appeal to his sense of honour and justice, to make him see that pardoning Corlys was in the best interest of the realm. 

It was one of his men that guided her to the council chamber, where his commander had been spending his time since leaving the courtyard. 

Visenya carefully opened the large doors, sending the northman back to his original station. She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts racing as she took in the sight of Cregan Stark standing at the head of the council table. The position, one that had belonged to her father, now seemed to belong to him, and it suited him more than she cared to admit. His hands rested on the surface as he studied the maps and parchments spread before him. 

As she slowly approached, he looked up, his expression softening slightly when he saw her. ''Princess,'' he abandoned his previous occupation, his full attention on her, ''what brings you here?'' 

''I need to speak with you about a matter of great importance.'' 

Cregan straightened, sensing the gravity in her tone. ''Of course, Princess. What is it?''

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. ''It concerns Lord Corlys Velaryon. His imprisonment… it cannot stand.''

His expression hardened, the brief moment of softness replaced by the stern demeanour he wore so easily. ''The Sea Snake was complicit in the murder of a King, and he swore loyalty to the Usurper after the death of your sister. That is treason.'' 

Visenya kept her voice calm, despite the frustration already bubbling to the surface. ''He acted out of necessity, to keep Aegon alive. Larys Strong and my half-brother wanted to send him to the Wall or execute him. Corlys made sure of it that my sister's line would live on, and her blood would sit the Iron Throne. He saved my nephew, protected him when others would have seen him dead.'' 

''And in doing so he betrayed his oaths. I understand the man's reasoning, but the law is clear. A king was poisoned, a line crossed that cannot be ignored. If I were to let this treason go unpunished, what message would that send? That anyone who claims to act for the good of the realm can kill a king and walk free?'' His eyes narrowed as he met her gaze. 

Her temper flared at his unwillingness to see reason. ''Do you think I do not understand the weight of his crimes? Do you think I am asking this lightly?'' She raised her voice, betraying the emotions she was struggling to contain. 

His face remained stony, his voice steady as he responded. ''I believe you understand it all too well, Princess. But you are letting your personal history cloud your judgement. He is the grandfather of your cousins and was one to three of your nephews.'' 

''Yes, he was their grandfather. Do you think they would wish to see him have his head taken for protecting their little brother? What would Jacaerys say of this to you?'' Visenya's hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

The mention of his late friend only seemed to stoke a fire in Cregan's anger. ''Jace was a noble, young man, a true Targaryen. But even he would have understood the necessity of upholding justice, no matter how painful it might be.'' 

Her breath hitched, before letting out a scoff. ''You think he would have condoned this? That he would have stood by and watched his grandfather be executed like a common criminal? He would have fought for him - just as I am doing now.'' 

Cregan took a step closer, his presence as imposing as the northern winds. ''And I would have fought beside him, just as I fight for the realm now. But this is not about sentiment, Princess. It is about the law, and the law must be upheld.'' 

Visenya's eyes burned with aggravation as she stared up at Cregan, her chest tight with the weight of their confrontation.  She had faced many challenges, many men who tried to bend her will, but this- this was different. Here she was, pouring out her heart, trying to make him understand the gravity of what he was doing, but all she saw in his eyes was that same, unyielding determination. 

It was infuriating, the way he seemed so immovable, as if her words had no effect on him. She felt a surge of helplessness, a sensation so foreign to her that it made her insides twist with anger. She had never felt so powerless, so unheard. 

''You are so consumed with the idea of upholding the law that you cannot see the damage you are doing. Lord Corlys has been loyal to our house for decades. He has earned more than a traitor’s death.'' Her composure was slipping, her tone turning sharper. 

''I cannot allow personal feelings to dictate justice.'' He remained impassive, not swayed by her pleading or arguments. 

A tense silence followed, the kind that seemed to stretch time itself. Neither of them budged, like the night before where they stood in front of her chambers, but it was different this time around. There was no hint of affection or intimacy, only gazes filled with icy resolution. Gone were the quiet moments of understanding they had shared, the brief glimpses of something more that had flickered between them in the darkened halls of the Red Keep. 

Cregan looked like how she imagined a Lord of Winterfell to look - as if the snow was running through his veins, unbending to the fire of a dragon. The delicacy she had seen in him before was buried deep beneath the ironclad exterior he wore. He was as immovable as the northern mountains. 

He was everything she despised and respected in equal measure - uncompromising, resolute, and bound by a code that left no room for the heart.

It was Visenya who spoke first, her words cutting through the air like a blade. ''You will regret this, Lord Stark.'' 

Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the threat that laced her words. It wasn’t a threat of violence or retribution - those were tools for lesser minds. It was a promise of consequences. 

Cregan's eyes remained locked on hers, though they were not filled with a freezing winter anymore. He could almost sense the toll this was taking on her, what his unwillingness to compromise meant. 

''Perhaps,'' he said quietly, the chill in his voice thawing just slightly, ''but this is the path I must walk, just as you walk yours, Princess.'' 

The Warden understood that Visenya was fighting to protect what she held dear. She did not hold any sort of love for the Sea Snake, but she did for his granddaughters and for the support he and Rhaenys had given her older sister when she needed it the most. 

He understood her, even sympathised with her, but he could not bend. Not for her, not for anyone.

Visenya's visage hardened once more, her walls going up as quickly as they had come down. She turned dejectedly, her dress swirling around her as she made for the door. The Princess disappeared into the haunted corridors of the Targaryen castle, her footsteps ringing out in the silent chamber.

Cregan watched her go, acutely aware this would not be the last time he would squander over the life of Corlys Velaryon. 

The room felt frostier, emptier, as if her presence had left a void in its wake. He let out a slow, measured breath, trying to shake off the lingering unease. He stood firmly in his decision, and believed it to be the righteous one, so why did Visenya's pained face and words remain seared into his mind?

[yerimsdreams]

A Fool's Dream

author's note: i hate this, but oh well, this suddenly came to me and i needed to get it out of my system. this does not have an ending so beware of that lol .

zaros kymen atha'lin x earis!reader (she/her pronouns are used) + argil cameo.

warnings: swearing. snitching. bad ending. mention of prostitutes. this is over 3k words. idk what else. oh jealousy.

The Earis strolled through the peaceful corridors of the castle, making her way towards the library. Ever since the start of the trials, she had been practically living there, spending every minute she could spare in the giant space. 

As she entered the grand hall, her eyes scanned the rows of shelves and the warm, inviting study desks she had come to know so well. To her surprise, she spotted a woman standing by one of the desks she and Zaros had unofficially claimed as their own. 

The woman was elegant, though not a member of one of the Noble families as she wasn't recognized by the Queen's daughter. The mysterious visitor was aimlessly looking through the discarded papers on one of the studies, specifically her study. 

''Can I help you?'' The Earis asked, her tone polite but tinged with authority. 

The woman flinched, somehow not having heard the doors open. She turned to face her, plastering a polite, but flushed, smile. ''Uh, sorry, my, uh, Earis.'' She curtsied, quickly letting go of the papers. 

The heir frowned, taking a few steps closer. ''May I know who you are?'' 

The woman straightened, composing herself. ''I am Lyanna, my Earis.'' She replied. 

Her name didn't ring a bell, and she frowned even deeper. ''And what are you doing in my library, Lady Lyanna?'' 

Lyanna hesitated, glancing nervously at the scattered papers. ''Uh, I am waiting here for Sarl Zaros, my Earis. He mentioned this was where he often studies, and he invited me here.'' 

The Earis' eyes narrowed slightly, growing suspicious. ''Invited you here? For what purpose?''

Lyanna grew uncomfortable with the royal woman’s gaze on her, though she remained collected. ''To show me it. He spoke very high of your personal collection, my Earis, and I wanted to see it myself.'' 

She nodded in response, though there was still a question lingering in her mind. ''How do you know Sarl Zaros, if I may ask?'' 

''We are betrothed, my Earis.'' 

The words struck her like a blow. His betrothed? Zaros nor his mother had made any mention of his potential future consort. The Earis struggled to maintain her composure, her mind racing with the implications. 

''I see,'' she finally said, her voice steady but more cold than before, ''I was not aware of such an arrangement.'' 

''It is a recent development, my Earis. Our families have a long history together.'' Lyanna clarified. 

The Earis momentarily glanced away, before looking back at her. ''Be that as it may, but this is a private study area. Only those directly involved in the trials are permitted to use it.'' 

Lyanna's smile faltered. ''But Zaros-'' 

''Is this Zaros' library?'' The heir interjected sharply. ''Are these paintings of Zaros' deceased family members?'' She pointed at the portraits of former rulers and consorts of Serulla, all of them Ilves descendants. 

Lyanna's eyes widened slightly, and she vehemently shook her head. ''No, my Earis.'' 

''Then, Lady Lyanna, you understand why you cannot be here,'' the Princess continued, her tone unyielding as she motioned her arm to the exit, ''unless you wish to take the throne as well, you may leave now.'' 

Lyanna's face flushed, and she curtsied once more. ''Of course, my Earis. My apologies for the intrusion.'' 

As the woman walked past her, the Earis couldn't help but feel a mixture of satisfaction and confusion. She had asserted her authority, but the revelation of Zaros's engagement lingered in her mind. 

Just as Lyanna exited, Zaros entered the library, his expression shifting to one of concern as he saw his betrothed leaving. ''My lady, why are you leaving?'' He briefly stopped her. 

''Sarl Zaros. The Princess informed me this is a private study area. I did not intent to intrude.'' She quietly explained, barely able to look him in the eye. 

''You're not intruding, i invited you here.'' Zaros retorted, sending his competitor a glare, though she was already picking out a new book to read, not sparing the couple a glance. 

''No, the Princess is right, Sarl Zaros. I shall take my leave.'' Lyanna brushed his words off, not risking going against the word of the daughter of Queen Roena. 

Zaros nodded. ''My apologies for the inconvenience, my Lady. I'll meet you later.'' His tone softened. 

Lyanna nodded, casting a quick, nervous glance at the Earis before making her way out of the library. 

The Atha'lin heir's jaw clenched as he turned around and made his way over to his desk, not pleased one bit by what he had just been told. He placed his books and notebook down with a bit more force than necessary. ''Do you get pleasure out of showing off your authority?'' 

The Earis turned from the bookshelf, her expression cool and composed. ''Sarl Zaros, this is my private study and library. The only reason you are allowed in here is because of my mother. The least you could do is respect the rules that were set in place.'' 

His eyes flashed with frustration. ''Lyanna was not causing any harm. She wanted to see the library so I invited her.'' 

''That does not change the fact that this is a restricted area. She could have been a hired assassin for all I know.'' She retorted. The Earis' eyes briefly widened with joy as she found the book she needed. She slowly walked over to her desk, wary about getting closer to the agitated man sitting at the bureau next to hers. 

Zaros stood stiffly by his desk, his frustration evident as he watched the Earis approach with deliberate calmness. ''A hired assassin? I understand your concern for security, but Lady Lyanna is not a threat. You simply wanted to demonstrate your power as heir.'' 

His words hit a nerve, stirring defensiveness within her. She took a measured breath as she sat down, her tone steady but tinged with restrained emotion. ''This is not about power. It's about protecting the sanctity of this space. I do not know her so how would I know if she is a threat or not? I don't judge based on looks.'' 

Zaros' head shot up at her words, his signature smirk making its way onto his face. ''Not know her? She's the youngest daughter of the Featherstone Family. The daughter of one of Serulla's highest-respected sailors.'' 

It was clear to him that her surname was still not clearing up the confusion on Lyanna's identity. 

''She is Rena's younger sister. You know, Rena? The girl you got suspended from the Academy after falsely blaming her for burning your curtains, even though you had burned them yourself?'' 

The grin on his face infuriated her. She knew how much gratification the man received from mentioning the mistakes she made in her youth. ''I did not realize. I didn't connect Lyanna to Rena Featherstone.'' 

''Of course you didn't,'' he bit back immediately, ''you were too preoccupied embarrassing her.'' 

''I did not embarrass her, I handled it as I saw fit. I enforced the rules. If that embarrasses her, then perhaps you should have informed her of them beforehand.'' She shot back, not appreciating his observation. 

Zaros's smirk faded at her rebuttal, his expression hardening slightly. ''Do not blame me now. I am fascinated by this library, and I simply wanted to show it to her. It is not my fault you got in before me.'' 

''I understand your fascination with my library, but I would appreciate a warning before I find another one of your… courtesans here.'' She replied coolly, her tone measured. 

''She is my betrothed, not a prostitute.'' Zaros replied firmly, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. 

''Sorry, I couldn't tell, given your history.'' The Earis raised an eyebrow. She didn't know why she was acting so petty, she just couldn't help but let the subtle insults roll off her tongue. 

Zaros gave her a hard look, clearly biting back on whatever comment was brewing in his mind. He shook his head, letting out a sarcastic chuckle. ''I am not engaging in this. I won't let you push my buttons or insult my betrothed. I will see you later… my Earis.'' 

He got up from his chair, taking his books with him as he took big strides towards the library doors, disappearing back into the halls of the castle. 

The Earis watched Zaros leave with a mixture of frustration and regret settling in her chest. She knew she had crossed a line with her remarks, letting her emotions get the better of her. He always seemed to have that effect on her, she couldn't properly think around him. 

She tried to erase it by focusing on her books, but the interactions she just experienced kept gnawing at her. She wondered where this sudden betrothal came from, and why she hadn't been informed about it. 

Her mind churned with questions and suspicions. She decided she needed more information about Lyanna Featherstone, and there was only one person who could help her discreetly. 

Argil. 

He has been one of her mother's most trusted confidants, and the man knew everything about everyone. Besides his formal role within the monarchy, he'd filled a void for the young Earis in the absence of her own father.  

The walk to Argil's study was not a long one, so she did not have much plan to rehearse her words, but as Zaros liked to remind her, she had a knack for convincing. 

She found the older man right where she thought he would be; behind his bureau, surrounded by stacks of scrolls and books. The room has always smelled of aged parchment and ink, a testament to Argil's dedication. 

"Argil," she greeted him with a bright smile, ''may I have a word?'' 

He looked up, his sharp eyes softening as he saw her. ''My Earis. How may I help you?'' 

She closed the door behind her, ensuring their conversation would remain private. ''So I was just in the library, and when I walked in there I met Lady Lyanna Featherstone.'' 

''Ah, Sarl Zaros' betrothed.'' Argil noted. 

''Yes,'' she grimaced, ''she seemed very interested in my desk, and I didn't immediately recognize her so I asked who she was, and-''

''I'm sorry, my Earis,'' Argil interjected her rambling, ''interested in your desk? In what way?'' His expression grew more serious. 

''Oh, she was looking through the papers that were lying on my study,'' she shrugged lightly, pretending it was of little consequence, ''anyway- I asked her who she was, and-'' 

''I'm sorry to interrupt again, my Earis, but that does not sound appropriate. Your study materials are private and should not be handled by outsiders.'' He frowned, his concern evident. 

The Earis waved her hand dismissively. ''I'm sure she was simply enamored by my calligraphy.'' 

Argil shook his head. ''Curious or not, we cannot allow anyone to go through your personal documents, especially during such a crucial time as the trials. Was she with anyone before you walked into the library?'' 

She feigned a moment of thought before answering. ''No, she was alone. I didn't see anyone else around.'' 

Argil's frown deepened. ''This is quite troubling, my Earis. I will need report this to the judges, the Queen's Council and your mother.'' 

"Well, if you think it's necessary..." she trailed off, pretending to be uncertain. 

''It most certainly is,'' he replied firmly, ''thank you for bringing this to my attention, my Earis.'' 

''No problem, Argil. I appreciate your diligence.'' 

''Was there anything else you wanted to share with me?'' He stood up from his desk, his full attention on her. 

She shook her head. ''No, I will leave you be, and let you do what you need to do.'' The Earis said, standing now as well. 

Argil nodded solemnly. ''Thank you, my Earis. I will handle this matter promptly and discreetly.'' 

As the Earis turned to leave, Argil spoke again, his tone gentle yet serious. ''My Earis, If there is anything else concerning you, do not hesitate to come to me.'' 

She nodded in acknowledgment, though slightly caught off guard by his unprompted invitation. ''I will, Argil. Thank you.'' 

She knew deep inside as she made her way over to her chambers that she shouldn't feel proud of what she had just done, but it was comforting to know that Argil still fell for these traps after all the years he had been working with their family. 

The Queen's daughter had set the wheels in motion, and now it was only a matter of time before the consequences unfolded. 

Later that evening, as the Earis sat in her chambers, ready to unwind for the night, a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. The only person she would expect this late in the day would be her mother. She got up and opened the door, only to find Zaros standing there. 

''Zaros-'' 

''Have you completely lost your mind? Banning Lyanna from the castle?'' He interjected her, exclaiming his discontent with fury. 

She looked up, startled by his sudden appearance and tone. ''What are you talking about?'' 

"Don't play dumb with me," he snapped, stepping into the room, ''you reported her to Argil, who then questioned her like she was some common thief in front of the entire Queen's Council and the judges!'' 

The Earis stood, trying to maintain her composure despite the fire in his eyes. ''First of all, I didn't report her to Argil. I was talking to him about my day, and then mentioned that I ran into her and that she looked very interested in my study desk. It's not my fault that he saw something wrong with that.'' 

''You manipulated him into reporting it!'' He raised his voice, his frustration boiling over. 

She narrowed her eyes, her own temper flaring. ''Manipulated? I simply stated what I saw. None of this would have happened if she minded her own business, and left my property alone.'' 

Zaros took a step closer, his anger palpable. ''You know damn well what you were doing. You wanted to get rid of her, and you used Argil to do it. I was a fool to believe you had changed, that you had matured these last 8 years. You're even worse than I thought.'' 

''You don't know anything about me, Zaros- and I'm tired of you claiming that you do. Like you say, it's been 8 years! You have changed, I have changed. We're not fucking kids anymore so let it go!'' 

Zaros's eyes flashed with fury. ''Let it go? How am I supposed to let it go when you keep pulling these stunts? Yes, we aren't kids anymore, but you're still playing these same petty games as if you were a juvenile. You can't stand it when you're not in control.'' 

She crossed her arms, her voice icy. ''Petty games?'' The Earis gasped. ''A woman that I don't know was peeking through my personal belongings. A woman that happened to be your betrothed, so a woman that your mother meticulously picked out for you. I don't trust your mother, so I don't trust her. I am protecting the integrity of these trials. If you can't understand that, then…'' She trailed off. 

He took another step towards her. ''The integrity of the trials? That's what you are protecting? The only thing you are protecting is yourself and your throne, by making me and my family look like people that would do espionage on the Royal Family.'' 

''I didn't have to make anything look like espionage, Zaros. I caught her in the act, what was I supposed to think?'' She retorted. 

''Maybe you could have thought for a second that not everything is a conspiracy against you, that not everyone is out to sabotage you. Lyanna was just curious, genuinely interested in what you were working on, and you made her out to be some criminal.'' 

The Earis' eyes narrowed. ''Why are you defending her? If the roles had been reversed, you and your mother would have done the exact same thing.'' 

''Because she is- well, was my betrothed, and I know she doesn't have ill intentions. You on the other hand.'' He glanced away from her for the first time. 

''I have ill intentions? That is vile, Zaros,'' she shook her head, ''you still think so little of me.'' 

Zaros turned back to her, his eyes filled with frustration and a hint of something more vulnerable. ''It's not that I think little of you. It's that you cannot stand the idea of me being betrothed while you sit alone with your fantasies in your quarters.'' 

The Earis' eyes flashed with indignation. ''How dare you. This has nothing to do with jealousy. I was protecting my privacy and the principles of the trials.'' 

''It has everything to do with jealousy! You can't bear the thought of me having someone else by my side while you keep everyone at arm's length.'' He responded, his voice raising in volume. 

''That is false!'' She yelled, not caring one bit about who might hear her. ''You have no idea what it's like to be in my position!'' 

''And you have no idea what it's like to be in mine!'' He retorted, matching her tone. ''To be treated like an outsider, to have to fight for every scrap of respect.''

''You don't think I have to fight? That I don't have to prove myself to people like you who think I don't know anything about life simply because I am the Queen's daughter.'' She shouted. 

''At least you have a clear path, I have nothing but what I've clawed my way to.'' Zaros snapped once again. 

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. ''You think I wanted any of this? I never asked for these Trials, or to be scrutinized like this. It was your family who made all of this happen, Zaros!'' 

Zaros' face contorted with a mix of anger and pain. ''You think I wanted any of this? You think I want these Trials? You think I want to marry her?'' He suddenly exclaimed. ''I don't want to marry her, okay! I don't want her to be my consort, I don't want anyone to be my consort.'' 

The Earis was at a loss for words, never having seen him like this. His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced by raw emotion. 

''I didn't- my mother, she…'' He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, not seeming to know where it was going anyway. 

''Zaros?'' She said softly, her voice having quieted down. 

He sighed at hearing his name, a deep, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of years. ''I do not want this. I was not born for this. You were,'' Zaros finally managed to look her in the eye, ''this is your birthright.'' 

''Zaros, what are you saying?'' Her voice trembled, her heart pounding in her chest. 

''I do not desire the throne, I never did,'' he confessed, ''I thought I wanted it.'' 

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing how to properly proceed with the conversation after Zaros' admission. 

''Then why did you accept?'' 

''I could not let my mother down, not after everything she has done for me and our family. I could not say 'no' in front of an entire room of Nobles and the Queen. I would have made us look like fools.'' He rambled, his hands flying up. 

His competitor watched him, her heart aching at the sight of his turmoil. ''You could have told me.'' 

''And what would you have done then?'' He asked right away. 

''I don't know,'' she admitted, ''I would have told my mother, or- or Argil.'' 

''Oh, great,'' Zaros sarcastically remarked, ''you would have told the two people who would have just taken advantage of it. Great idea, your Highness, amazing.'' He rolled his eyes. 

The Earis felt a surge of frustration. ''I am sorry that I do not have the perfect solution for your hypothetical problem, Zaros.'' She bit back. 

A tense silence fell between them, the weight of their words hanging in the air. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with unspoken emotions and unresolved conflict. 

"Just forget it," Zaros muttered, shaking his head, "forget I said anything." He turned and walked towards the door, opening it and not sparing her a glance as he left. 

"Zaros." The Earis called after him, but he didn't stop. He kept walking, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. 

She longingly stared at his disappearing figure, her hands covering her face. ''Fuck…'' she muttered under her breath. The young woman waltzed back into the safety of her room, though it felt haunted by the revelations that had just taken place. 

[yerimsdreams]

All Bark, No Bite

author's note: the way I planned for this to be something cute and then it turned into... this. lol.

zaros kymen atha'lin x earis!reader (they/them pronouns are used).

warnings: swearing. mention of death. tombstone. crying.

''Why won't you just tell me what happened, mother? It's about my own brother!'' The Earis exclaimed in frustration, following their mother like a lost duckling. 

Queen Roena shook her head, continuing to make her way out of the library. She'd originally gone to check up on her child's progression with their studies for the upcoming trial of debate, but it had quickly turned into another interrogation on her son's death and the late Atha'lin matriarch's involvement in it. 

''Mother! I deserve to know!'' Their plea went in vain once again as the Eminence almost reached the doors. 

''Mum, please.'' 

The Queen halted at the two words. They sounded like a child, one that would ask their parents to check under their bed to see whether there was a creature lurking there or not. She hadn't heard them sound so desperate in years, maybe ever. 

The older woman turned around, guilt dripping all over her face. The ruling monarch was not one to wear her heart on her sleeve. However, every emotion she was feeling in that moment was visible for the world to see. 

''I can't, my darling,'' she sighed, ''it's in the past. It shall remain there.'' With one last sad smile, she opened the doors and departed from the library, leaving her hopeless child behind. 

The Earis simply stood there, feeling the weight of their mother’s words pressing down on them. The library didn't feel like the warm and welcoming place it had always been for them, instead a cold breeze had settled over the vast book-lined hall. 

They let the tears fall, not blinking them back like they were used to doing. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness planted itself inside of them. Why couldn't anyone just tell them the truth? Why does everyone have to be so secretive and vague about the subject? 

Despite the grand state of the library, it felt as if they would be swallowed up by it if they stayed a second longer. It was as if the books were mocking them. Thousands of figures of history laughing in their face, the poems of the finest writers were pointing at them and falling over from amusement. 

Their shoulders slumped, the Earis turned away from the door and wiped the tears from their face. They needed to get out, to breathe fresh air and clear their mind. 

They made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, moving swiftly towards the gardens.  The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the library. They let out a deep breath of relief once they were outside, the scent of all the various flowers providing a pleasant distraction. 

The garden was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. All the nobles had gone back to their own respective homes, while the staff of the Royal Family were done with their duties for the day and had retreated to their quarters. 

The heir walked along the winding paths until they reached their brother's memorial. They sat down next to the stone plaque that carried their sibling's name. 

''What really happened to you? Why won't Mother tell me? Why won't anyone tell me the truth of it?'' The questions that had been haunting them tumbled out in a whisper. Their voice broke on the last few words, and they buried their face in their hands, letting the tears flow freely again. 

"Out and about so late, my Earis?'' A familiar voice sounded from the shadows, breaking the comfortable silence that had been present. ''People might start to think you're engaging in promiscuous activities with a secret companion.'' Despite not looking at him, they could hear the smirk playing on his lips. 

''Begone, Zaros.'' There wasn't much energy behind their words, just pure exhaustion. They weren't in any mood to deal with his snarky comments. 

Zaros, sensing the weariness in their tone, stepped out from the shadows and approached them. His signature grin faded as soon as he saw the tears glistening on their cheeks. He stood there, uncertain on how to proceed. 

''What happened?'' He asked quietly, hesitantly taking a few steps closer to them. 

The Earis turned towards him, roughly wiping their tears away. ''Just go! I do not want to hear from you at this moment.'' 

He paused, concern etching his features. "Did someone harm you?" His posture straightened as the question left his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing. 

They let out a bitter laugh, shaking their head. "No, no one has harmed me. Just leave me be." 

But Zaros didn't move. Instead, he crouched down in front of them, trying to catch their gaze. ''Please, you appear burdened beyond measure. For someone or something to break your mask like this… please, speak to me.'' 

''Why? So you can use my hardships against me later?'' Their head snapped towards him, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain. 

He lightly flinched at the accusation, but remained composed. ''I have no intention of doing that. You're crying in the garden, all by yourself, everyone can see that something has transpired.'' 

They turned away, their gaze focused on their brother's stone, frustration boiling over. "You're only here to enjoy my suffering. Begone, please, at once!'' 

''I am not here for my own entertainment. We may no longer be as close as we once were, but I am not indifferent to your pain. Now, please, tell me what happened?'' Zaros insisted, his tone earnest. 

The Earis momentarily lifted their head to meet Zaros' eyes. They tried to find something that would tell them he had another impertinent comment waiting, but they did not find it. Instead, they found his soft eyes, and genuine distress on his face. 

They sniffed, and took a deep breath. ''I, uh, have been asking my mother about what you said about your grandmother, uh, snatching my brother,'' their voice became small at the mention of their sibling, ''she won't tell me anything, she refuses. I just asked her about it again, moments ago in the library, but she brushed me off.'' 

Zaros frowned at their admission. ''It was not my intention to cause a rift between you and your mother.'' 

They shook their head. ''I know that, it's not your fault. I just… I feel as if I do not know my family at all. Ever since the contention, strange things have been happening, and I don't know what or who to believe anymore.'' 

His expression softened at their words. ''I understand. I still believe it is not up to me to tell you what happened regarding your late brother, but… I do feel for you.'' 

The Earis sarcastically chuckled. ''You feel for me? That's a first.'' 

Zaros sighed, undeterred by their sarcasm. ''Stop that. Just because of what happened in the past does not mean I do not care for you or wish to see you discontented. I could have walked away the moment I saw you here, but I stayed. Do with that what you will.'' 

They wanted to believe him, to trust that his concern was genuine, yet years of bitterness stood between them like an impenetrable wall. ''You expect me to believe that you suddenly care about my well-being?'' 

''Yes, I do,'' he retorted, ''I am not lying when I say that seeing you like this pains me.'' He admitted, his full attention on them. 

The Earis stares for a few moments before groaning, their hands covering their face again. ''Why do you always do that?'' 

''Do what?'' Zaros questioned, confused. 

''One sentence you'll completely tear me and my character apart, and in the next you- you say things like that.'' 

Zaros shifted uncomfortably. ''I don't tear you apart, I simply say the hard-''

''Hard truths, yeah. You've said it plenty.'' They interjected, rolling their eyes. 

''So you do know it?'' The teasing gentleman made a small return. ''Anyway- I do not mean to hurt you with my words, I just want to give you a different perspective.'' 

''You simply wish to remind me of all my flaws, Zaros. Don't play dumb, it does not suit you.'' 

Zaros's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. ''I speak harshly because I believe in your strength. I challenge you because I know you can rise to it. You are the heir to the throne. There is the possibility that you will become ruler, so I might just as well put both your feet back on the ground. It is for the good of the realm.'' 

They were still guarded, so they let out a scoff. ''For the realm,'' she repeated, ''for the realm or for the good of your own family? The, oh, so noble Atha'lin line who care about the smallfolk and their troubles while they drown themselves in the royal wealth, and feast on the food and wine which they pay for with the little money they have.'' 

His face tightened, their words slowly sinking in. ''Do not speak of my fa-'' 

''Not speak of your family? All you do is speak on me and my family. I understand your anger, and it is justified. But you are a hypocrite, Zaros. You bark and bark, but as soon as I turn it around on you, you put on your cloak of high morality and point the finger at me for everything that is wrong with Serulla,'' the gates had opened, and there was no closing them now. 

''You think all it takes for the common folk to have you in their favor is to lower some fucking taxes? You believe that by sneering at the noble families, the ones that will work in your Council if you become king, you will actually achieve change? Well, you are greatly mistaken. You know nothing about what it takes to rule a Dominion, especially not one like ours. Your mother is using you for her own bidding, to lift her own status- you are only too blind to see it.'' 

Zaros recoiled as if struck, his expression hard to read. It seemed to have taken him a few extra seconds to fully comprehend their words. Once it had hit him, he quickly stood back up, though he didn't move away from them. 

The Earis watched him in their peripheral vision, puzzled on why he stayed standing there, fully expecting him to have made his way into the castle by now. 

''You and I have more in common than we allow ourselves to think at times.'' He remarked, gazing into the Serullan night sky. 

Their own vision stayed on their brother's engraved name, hoping an answer would appear to help them out of this situation. 

Zaros continued at their silence. ''We both want the best for our families, and we'll both go to the absolute end for them- no matter the cost.'' 

''This is a high cost you are paying, Sarl Zaros.'' They uttered back, looking up at his figure. 

''It is, My Earis.''