Look at the little babies <3 Sorry for the delay, hope you like x
Cregan was not enthused at Visenya being sent to Storm's End. When she told him the following morning, sitting up in their bed which he stood in front of as he dressed, he had stayed silent. He listened, he dressed and then he stared.
Stared at her like he was still processing.
"Jace is a boy grown, Cregan he is perfectly capable. Luke is still a boy... I don't want to go anywhere but..."
She trailed off, she hoped he heard her words and believed them for the sincerity she felt. She meant it. She didnn't want to go anywhere, not when the North prepared for war and her place was here.
When he looked at her, she felt herself warm just under his gaze. While she had grown used to that hot feeling around her neck and chest when he looked at her, the warmth was something different. It wasn't burning flames and fire, it was warm, steady and low like embers. Something she hadn't known fire was capable of.
Cregan had taken her to bed the night before but they had slept. That was all. The decision that sat in front of them regarding children was perhaps too much of a mountain to tackle in one night but Visenya felt better having him know and having herself know his secrets too.
"Was it an order?"
Visenya's brow furrowed at the question.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean did Prince Daemon or Queen Rhaenyra ask you to go to Storm's End or did they order you to go?"
Visenya thought about it for a moment. Daemon had ordered her but her mother had asked her. And she knew that if Cregan knew how Daemon spoke to her, she would be dealing with war between her own husband and her youngest brothers' father.
"My mother asked me... for Luke."
He paused, taking it in.
"Ok."
He nodded, so simply she had not been sure she heard him right.
"Ok?" she questioned, wanting to be sure.
"You're my lady-wife, Senya" he said, unaware of the effect it had on her when he said those words "not my prisoner. You'll fly for Storm's End."
Visenya had not expected her husband to forbid her but she had expected something more of a push back, a reluctance even. She almost felt a little disappointed.
"Ok." she nodded, watching him tie the strings of his shirt and admiring him as much as she always did.
"And if Daemon had ordered me?" she asked, curiosity winning out.
Cregan's tongue ran along the inside of his cheek as he thought of it. The more he thought back on his correspondence and treating with Prince Daemon the more he realised how little the man had thought for what Visenya's life could be.
Daemon didn't know if Cregan would be rough with her or cruel to her, he didn't know if he would ever let her visit Dragonstone again or have her family come to stay when she missed them. He hadn't bothered about the details, all of which would mean the difference between Visenya being the best Lady Stark Winterfell had ever seen and a dragon chained in the North.
"You're Lady Stark... you don't have to do anything you don't want to." he nodded, a sense of confidence about him when he said it that made Visenya want to climb from her bed and wrap herself up in him.
"But you come as far as Moat Cailin with us." he added, her eyes snapping back to his from where they had drifted down south of his chest.
"What?" she questioned.
Cregan leaned forward, his fists coming down on the bed either side of her and looming over her. Times like this she realised why people called him the Wolf of the North and why rumours of him being a beast circulated the capital. Visenya was not a slight woman but she felt it with him.
"We take you as far as Moat Cailin and we make camp there. You can continue on Ghost and if you're not back within an agreed upon days, then we act."
Visenya's heart thumped in her chest. Of course, he would not allow her to leave indefinitely and without protection. She had imagined that he would not let her out of his men's sights for the purpose of keeping her North. But she hadn't imagined that he would come with her, even if a part of the way.
"But..." she protested, wondering aloud. But his lips on hers shushed her confusion.
"We were going to make camp at Moat Cailin anyway for when the Winter hits, princess. We don't want to be kept North by the Winter so when the time comes, we'll be nearby and we'll be ready."
Visenya felt a smile at her lips.
"The Northern forces are going to make camp at Moat Cailin and blockade the North?" She asked.
Cregan nodded, his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek in a cocky smile.
She grinned.
"That was my idea." she stated.
And he grinned back.
"Yes, it was."
Not only was her lord husband allowing her at war councils, but he was also listening to her.
Visenya had put it to them that setting up base for the North at Moat Cailin would essentially barricade off the North. It would make the Barrowlands, the Rills, the fishing villages of the coast west of Winterfell unreachable by land. It made White Harbour, Widow's Watch, the Karrhold and the Dreadfort and Winterfell itself only accessible by ships and attacking by sea. The Blacks had the Velaryon fleet as well as the modest amount of ships the North maintained a secret.
Dragons might be sent North but the skies would be monitored, none would pass North without their knowledge and if they did that was what Visenya and Ghost were for too.
"You like my straetgies, Lord Stark?" Visenya said low, knowing that when she spoke like that he shivered as if the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
Her hands looped up around his neck and her fingers played with the hair that grew longer and curled at the ends.
"We'll leave for Moat Cailin before nightfall."
He said, knowing the plans by heart as he had thought them through until his head ached. But the way his wife pulled at his shoulders and pushed herself up until she was clinging to him like an animal climbing a tree, he couldn't think of Moat Cailin only the beautiful, soft and heavenly smelling princess who nuzzled at his neck.
Something about knowing he was using her plans, was listening to her strategies and was not overly bothered about her impending trip to Storm's end as well as the reality that this was the last time they would be sharing their bed in Winterfell, drove her to wrapping her legs around his middle and sighing contentedly when he finally did straighten up and pull her up into his arms securing her against his with a hand splayed across her ass.
"Our last night for a while in our bed and all we did was sleep." she murmured wistfully, her mouth muffled against his neck but the sound he made when she mouthed at his earlobe was enough to placate her.
"We were both tired, princess." he reasoned, knowing that after everything they had talked of last night, sleep was what they had needed most.
What had been shared the night before had seemed insurmountable at the time. But in the hazy, dark of dawn with warm hands and soft sighs, it didn't seem enough to keep their hands from each other. Nothing seemed capable of that anymore.
"Too tired for this?" she asked, her voice a little breathy already from the way he squeezed at her ass and pulled her tighter against him.
Her hips rocked forward, encouraged by the push and pull of his hand and his own body that responded to her.
Cregan didn't know much of women but he had heard that the marital act was often a chore and necessary evil for the woman. But not for his wife. He was determined for her never to feel this and going by the way she sighed happily in his ear and her eyes fluttered back and shut, he was achieving this.
He couldn't imagine fucking her and wondering if she enjoyed it, doing something to her and not being certain she loved it. He didn't ever want to do it like that with her, unsure of if she was even feeling safe. He wanted her to want him, he wanted her to want him so mich she couldn't resist him. He wanted her to feel even a fraction of that heat and desire he felt for her, had felt since soon after she arrived.
"We have a war to plan, princess." he reminded her as if she needed reminding.
"I know" she nodded, her head tilting back and her neck looking too appealing to be ignored.
Cregan seemed powerless to resist and his lips and teeth found purchase in the soft skin of her neck quickly.
"I'll bed you ten times over when we are somewhere safe, I promise." he reassured her, feeling his erection pushing against the seams of his trousers and aching to be inside her again. It hadn't been more than a day since last he was inside her but a few hours seemed too much to bear even now.
Sighing dejectedly, she pulled her face from his shoulder where she had been directing her attentions.
"Fine. But don't forget you promised to honour me." she sighed, almost petulantly but it made Cregan smile. She might be a brilliant Lady of Winterfell but she was still a spoilt princess at times, especially when she was denied something she wanted.
And she wanted him. A thought that sustained him throughout many unpleasant parts of his days.
"I know, princess. I don't forget my oaths." he said, her grip relaxing until she shifted in his grasp to be put down.
He set her on her feet reluctantly, wishing he could stay in their chambers rather than make plans to leave their home. But he had no regrets over pledging to her.
"Good" she smiled, stepping aside to where her clothes were kept.
Hooking her leathers over her finger she turned over her shoulder to him.
"Maybe its time I make some oaths of my own."
Cregan smirked. Curse those dimples, Visenya thought to herself as she felt her own stupid smile.
"Oaths are generally made on ones knees, princess" he retorted, thinking that he could shock her.
But his ladywife was nothing if not quick.
"Maybe I would be happy to go to my knees for my lord husband."
Cregan nearly went to his own knees at the thought. His wife, his princess on her knees for him. Her lilac eyes looking up at him, her tongue coming past her lips to taste him, her hands trailing up his thighs and abdomen.
Whatever hope he had had of going soft in time for his council failed. And the grin she tossed over her shoulder made him know that she knew exactly what she was doing. His beautiful, wicked, princess.
And the squeal of laughter she made when he grabbed for her, pulling her in against him once more and catching her lips with his was better than any other noise he'd ever heard her make.
*
Leaving Winterfell was harder than Visenya had ever imagined it could be. She was shocked at how similar it felt to leaving Dragonstone not many moons previous. Maester Fagan promised her that they were ready. Lady Alyssa would stay at Winterfell with Maester Fagan, Arrina, Harrin and Torra.
'There must always be a Stark in Winterfell' Cregan had told Harrin when he had protested and wanted to come.
If anything happened to them, Harrin would be Lord of Winterfell.
Cregan's eyes were stone cold the whole day. Visenya watched him say goodbye to Harrin, watched him pick Arrina up into his arms and promise her he'd bring back a gift. It reminded her too much of saying goodbye to Joff, Aegon and Viserys that she felt tears in her eyes.
"Be careful, my dear" Lady Alyssa begged of her when she wrapped her arms around the princess who had become her daughter.
It had gone from cordiality and correctness, 'your grace' and 'my lady' to 'Senya' and 'my dear'. A drop in station Visenya was grateful for, almost as much as she was for the so-called 'demotion' from Princess to Lady Stark.
"I will... we'll see you all soon." Visenya nodded, blinking back tears and knowing it was a lie. She had no idea when she would see them again.
"Come now, child" Lady Alyssa hushed her youngest daughter who was starting to cry audibly "Cregan and Senya will come back soon."
Just like leaving Dragonstone, Visenya felt unsure of what lay ahead. But she didn't leave alone with Ser Jarrald this time. Cregan walked with her to her horse, a dappled grey mare that she had chosen for her similarities to Ghost who flew ahead by himself.
"I'm not sure I would have believed the words myself a few moons ago but it grieves me to leave." She admitted, trying to meet her husband's eyes. He did eventually look at her.
A ghost of something warm lingered in his gaze.
"Good." he nodded.
Her husband of few words. But she knew that what he didn't say was all she felt through his gaze.
"This feels like home now." She stated, as if they needed to hear it out loud.
And it did. Winterfell, with its stone walls and long draughty corridors had become home. And the blacksmiths, the forgers and the welders, the cooks and the scullery maids, the knights and the bannermen who trained in the courtyard. Maester Fagan with his wrinkled hands and greying hair. Ser Darron with his grim expression and his eternally straight spine. Ingrid with her soft hands and pretty face that looked back at Visenya in the mirror as she brushed her hair.
What had once conjured up images of Jace and Luke, Dragonstone and her mother, home now seemed like something else entirely.
And Cregan could see it. His grin wasn't even that smug. The dimple was in his left cheek that was grazed by the scar that went straight down his face. Something so boyish with something so fierce.
"Good" he nodded again, leaning in and kissing her cheek and forehead before helping her onto her horse, his smile still pulling at the edges of his lips.
Moat Cailin wasn't far. But with horses and wagons, bannermen and armies that all moved to barricade Moat Cailin so it would stop any Southern forces from ever making it North, it was a slower journey than Visenya was used to.
Three days went by and she knew that she would have to leave for Storm's End as soon as they made camp. She was so grateful to arrive into Moat Cailin where the war camp had been set up and her tent was waiting along with a bath and Ingrid.
"Ingrid, I wish you had heeded your father's advice and stayed at Winterfell." Visenya had said although the comfort of having Ingrid with her was palpable.
"I'm handmaiden to Lady Stark. What use am I in Winterfell when my lady is elsewhere?" Ingrid had replied, almost insolently but Visenya felt all the fonder of her for it.
Visenya bathed and dressed in her night clothes, hoping to see her husband. But war councils and ravens that came what seemed like every few moments kept him from her just like they had in the last three nights. She slept fine but cold. She was always cold without him.
"I suppose we shall have to grow used to spending time apart" she had sniped coldly when he had found her dressing one of the mornings.
"I can grow used to many things, princess but being apart from you I will never bear well." he had said, his voice muffled against her neck.
He was behind her, his large figure hulking over her and his knees bent slightly so he could rest his chin on her shoulder, his arms looped around her middle.
"You seem to be bearing it rather well." she snapped, her patience too thin for his kindness.
But like always, her fire didn't burn him. It just seemed to warm him.
His chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as his breath skimmed her skin.
"Gods you're so soft" he groaned against her shoulder, his teeth scraping gently over the tendons in her neck before his tongue laved over them in a carress that made her shiver.
"And warm" he growled, his hands running down either side of her until his nails scraped against the outside of her thighs.
Visenya pushed back against him, her back nestled into the centre of his chest and her ass pressing back into the cradle of his lap where she felt him hard against her. The rotation of her hips back and forth and back again was enough to make him hiss through his teeth.
"Three days, Senya." he said, his voice strained but his arms tightening around her middle so that he just held her, not in the salacious way they might have preferred but in a much softer way.
Her hazy mind took a moment to clear. Three days? What was he talking about? And why had he stopped touching her?
But her senses came back to her.
"Three days." she nodded, her hands gripping onto his arms that held her.
Three days was the time she was allotted. She would fly to Driftmark where Luke would be waiting for her. They would fly to Storm's End and treat with Lord Borros, convince him of the Black's worthiness of his commitment and she would fly home to her husband.
"And if three days pass?" she wondered aloud.
His arms tightened around her whether subconsciously or not, she didn't know. But they wrapped tighter around her, his heartbeat quickening against her back.
"Then the North declares War."
He said so calmly, with an almost earnest eagerness that should have terrified any woman. But Visenya was fire and blood, and it struck a match in her.
"On who?" she asked.
"On whoever would dare to take Lady Stark from where she belongs."
The dragon inside Visenya wasn't sure. Dragons had riders, not owners.
"And where does she belong?"
She could almost feel Cregan's smirk when his lips brushed her ear.
"With me."
Visenya shivered, her hips rolling back against his and her heart double beating.
There was something about Cregan Stark that fanned the flames inside her. He didn't own her, now did he want to. He didn't order her nor would he ever have to. But there was a relishing, a thrill, a heat in belonging with someone, dare she say belonging to someone.
He was hers.
He'd never touched another woman like he had touched her. He had never been inside another woman or been brought to a peak by another woman like she had done to him. He didn't listen to other plans like he did hers. He didn't sleep beside anyone else or bathe with them or let Ghost walk the Wolfswood with them. That was hers. He was hers.
And knowing this made it very easy for her to admit she was his.
But it also made it harder for them to pull away from each other. But daylight was breaking and the sooner she left, she sooner she could return. That was what she told herself as she pulled on her warmer riding cloak over her leathers, black with a red trim for her mother but the wolf's head pin on her chest and cloak straps.
"Three days." he reminded her, his large hand on the side of her head and drawing her into him where his lips pressed against the side of her head.
The men around them were busy, bustling and preparing for the arrival of more bannermen from House Dustin and Ryswell. Ser Darron and Ser Jarrald wished her well and wished her luck, promising to see her in three days time.
No one's eyes wandered to their liege lord when he leant down and stole a kiss from the Princess. It was short and chaste but Visenya was growing as fond of these moments as she had the passionate and rushed franticness of their earlier kisses. There was something soft and familiar about these ones, as though it was just a moment and that the next would come soon after.
But nothing was certain in war. And whether they were ready or not, it wasn't just the war that was coming for them. The Greens were coming for them too.