Hi! Ive Got A Request Please For Aegon After Hes Injured At Rooks Rest Where Wife!reader Wont Leave His

Hi! I’ve got a request please for Aegon after he’s injured at Rook’s Rest where wife!reader won’t leave his bedside just watching him rest and helping care for him and soothing him when he’s able to wake up 🥺

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{The days following Rooks Rest were spent by Aegon’s side and no where else}

Thank you for the request!! Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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It was a day just like the last, the morning sun was blocked behind the thick tapestry that hangs over the huge windows. It casts a hazy light through the chambers, the smoke from the candles dances through the soft rays of sun that peak between the gaps.

The chair beside Aegon’s sick bed was your new home, you slept and ate there- well what little you could stomach. The Maesters had advised you to get proper rest, urging you out of the room whenever they had to tend to him. However, all their complaints went in one ear and out the other.

You were adamant and so they all soon gave in, the desperation in your eyes must’ve spoken to something deep in Grand Maester Orwyle.

The sound of Aegon’s shallow breaths is the only sound that breaks through the silence, along with the faint crackle of candle flames that were starting to die out. You were almost on the cusp of sleep, your head tipping to the side as you try to fight off the heavy weight of exhaustion.

Although your attempts are futile, there was a restlessness that had coiled itself around your body holding you from finding peace ever since they had brought your husband back to the Red Keep in that wooden box, the memory still stirs your stomach unpleasantly.

Shaking the thought off you lean forward slightly, reaching over to brush his hair away from his face, your knuckles grazing over his unburned cheek. His skin is warm to the touch, hot with the leftover remnants of a fever he had not long broken.

You stare at him, watching him sleep so soundly that he almost looks at peace. If it weren’t for his pained expression and the way he weakly fists at the bedsheets then perhaps you might’ve tricked yourself into believing he was fine… just resting as the Maesters put it.

You dip a cotton cloth into the basin, wringing the water out before gently dabbing it against the untouched areas of his skin, the last parts of him that weren’t scorched. His body tenses up, and then a broken sigh passes through his chapped lips, the coolness brought him some relief if only for a few fleeting moments.

He sinks back into the comfort of the pillows as you bring the cloth over his chest, avoiding the marred skin. “… you’re still here?” He whispers, disbelief twinging through his broken tone, watching you through his bleary eye. He knows it’s you, despite the daze he is in. He can tell by the way you tend to him with a certain care that the Maesters didn’t have.

His voice sends a pang of hurt through your chest, hitting your heart. “Of course… I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, going back over to the basin to fold the cloth back in its place before walking over to him once more.

He had been in out of consciousness since this morning when you had witnessed him speak vaguely to Orwyle, his words then were slurred almost incoherent.

“You don’t have to.” He rasps, his actions betraying his words as his fingers twitch weakly in a desperate attempt to hold your hand. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers around his palm.

“No, I want to. I’m not leaving you Aegon.” You tell him, more of a reassurance than anything. To soothe him whilst he remains in this almost delirious state. He nods feebly, a smile ghosting over his features, the feeling of your thumb caressing the inside of his wrist brings him peace of mind.

Your gaze casts along his body slowly, the dragon fire had caused a web of marred flesh over his chest and arm, across his face. An unsettling sight of pinks and reds, darker in some places and lighter in others as they blended into a violent purple in some areas, it was all extremely sensitive that even the bedsheets seemed to cause him a great deal of agony.

He watches the way your eyes study him, taking in the horrid sight that has become of him. He hates it more than anything, the look of grief in your eyes for a life that he was no longer able to live, long lost within the very same flames that had nearly claimed him. He hates it, such a solemn emotion doesn’t suit you.

Aegon looks up at you as if it was his first time really seeing you since he was first brought home. He seemed much more aware than he did yesterday. His purple eye brimming with tears that he has no control over, not right now in this condition.

“You look exhausted.” He states the obvious, looking at the deep bags underneath your eyes, although you are well aware of the fact. It was his shallow breaths that kept you from sleeping, far too scared that he might pass whilst you were unconscious.

You hum in acknowledgement, not trusting your voice to carry your words without breaking into a sob. His fingers squeeze your own, a wordless understanding, so softly that you barely even notice it.

You collect yourself, clearing your throat. “I’m okay, shall I get the Maesters?” Your words immediately make him shake his head, a desperate noise of protest slipping past his lips.

“No, stay. I need you.” He tells you, leaning into your palm with a shaky sigh.

His hand reaches for the soft velvet of your dress, trying to urge you closer to him, keeping you there with a small pained whimper. You wrap your fingers around his hands softly, looking down at him, trying to stop him with worry in your eyes as he tries to sit up.

“Stop it Aegon, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not leaving just lay back.” You promise, urging him to rest back down against the pillows. He mumbles something that sounds more like a jumble of pained blusters, letting you guide him back to the comfort of the pillows.

“Sit down with me,” he whispers in a strained tone, noting the hesitation in your eyes as you look across his burned skin.

You do ask he asks, perching yourself down on the edge of his bed. Your eyes search his expression for any signs of discomfort, but you are met with only a weak smile as his hand rests against your lap.

He looks over to the chair beside his bed, the blankets and pillows that were placed over the cushions, the small tray of food on the table nearby that had been untouched… you really hadn’t left his side? The thought chokes him up.

“You’ve been sleeping in that old chair this entire time? Don’t be silly…” He says, working his fingers between your own, his thumb stroking across your wedding ring. “You should be in bed… sleeping.”

“What use am I to you if I’m in bed?” You ask him, looking down at his hand as he caresses the small gemstones on your ring.

It had become some sort of habit of his, over time as he let you into his heart little by little. It brought him comfort to know that you chose to stay with him, for all his faults you still found yourself caring for reasons that Aegon can’t seem to comprehend even now.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows slightly, a weak scoff escaping his chapped lips. Your selflessness would forever puzzle him. “You are my wife, I won’t have you wasting away.” He spoke with a sternness, he was worried about you. How much sleep have you had- or food for that matter- if any at all.

You sigh, opening your mouth to argue with him but he quickly cuts you off. “You’d be no use to me at all by torturing yourself like this, you silly girl…” The words carry some truth, but you were stubborn.

“You worrying about me whilst you lay here…like this… that is silly Aegon.” You tell him, looking down at your lap to your joined hands as his thumb continues to idly rub over the wedding band.

He grunts, looking up at you with a small frown but he can’t be mad. He missed you far too much to spend these moments arguing. “You are frustratingly stubborn… I missed you.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your ring.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, letting him guide your hand to rest against his cheek. He leans into the warmth of your palm as your thumb caresses him once again.

“I’ve missed you… so much.” You breathe, words coming out hushed as you try to keep the tears from falling down your exhausted eyes.

He watches you with slight confusion as you suddenly scramble over to the tables beside your chair, grabbing something before joining him at his side once more. Before he can ask what you were doing you take his uninjured hand, gently pushing his own wedding ring onto his finger.

His heart stops for a moment, leaping into his stomach at the feeling. The affection, the gentleness, makes his throat close up and he can’t do much, rendered speechless as he stares up at you with disbelief.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up… that you were-” dead… you can’t speak the word, you didn’t dear to, just in case in some sick turn of events it might come to fruition.

The tears fall freely, looking down at your wedding rings. A symbol that meant much more than just duty, you were entwined by the soul and heart, tethered to each other.

He reaches up to brush your tears away, his expression softening. “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.” He rasps, hating the fact he can do more to soothe you. He’s never felt so useless before then he does right now.

“As am I… I’m not going anywhere.” your teary response makes him chuckle weakly.

“Come here…” he grunts, trying to play off the pain that was still searing through his body in hot flashes.

“No- I don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper, suddenly panicked as he tries to tug you down to him by his good arm.

He beckons you closer, his fingers curling around the back of your head. “You won’t… just please.” He begs meekly.

You steady yourself, pressing the palms of your hands against the mattress- being super vigilant of the burns that tarnish his body- as he lowers you down to kiss him. Your lips meeting his own gently before you pull away.

“No more. Rest before you overexert yourself.” You tell him sternly, getting up from the bed as he grumbles in a mixture of objection and pain, watching you walk back over to the wash basin. His complaints soon die down at the feeling of the cool damp rag pressing against his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, moulding back into the pillows. The chill it brings against his flushed skin was very welcomed.

“Shh, just relax.” You coo softly and it isn’t long before he’s drifting back off to sleep. His hand entwined with your own, your rings glistening underneath the soft candlelight, not willing to let go even in his unconscious state.

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Helloo can I request a sweet smut with aegon x reader where they've been apart for some time due to work and when they come together they just want to be intimate with one another

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon’s patience has been wearing thin, he soon reaches a breaking point}

!!-18//MDNI-!! Sorry this took so long I simply cannot catch a break, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

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Since the moment Aegon sat down on his council chair he wanted to leave, to abandon the whole damned meeting and let the fools figure it out for themselves. What was the point of even being there if they overlooked everything he said?— if they did not take him seriously?

It angered him beyond belief, the way they looked at him, the snide remarks that left a stupid pain in his chest no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He sits there bored and pissed off, spinning the marble against the wooden table as their words blend into one another making one big dull noise.

He feels silly, ignored, and he doesn’t enjoy it— so he leaves, slamming his fist onto the table so hard that it causes each of the council members to jump in their seats. The marble rolls off of the table, smashing onto the stone floor as the door shuts behind him with a loud thud.

Aegon bites the inside of his cheek, trying to cool his temper down before entering your bedchambers- the last thing he wanted to do was sour your day with his mood, but it doesn’t work he can’t seem to quell the frustration that coils around his already tense body.

It's your laugh. The sound of your laughter, light and merry calms him. It clashes so greatly with the heavy weight of his heart, with the turbulence in his mind. He stands there for a moment, just outside your shared bedchambers, his anger evaporating as he listens to the heavenly sound.

With a deep breath, he opens the door entering with a relieved sigh. His lilac eyes meet your own with a tender expression that softens his features, watching your dressers ready you for bed, taking your necklace and earrings off with great care.

“You’re dismissed… leave us.” Aegon commands, waving a dismissive hand to the two ladies. They both bow courtly before leaving the room with knowing smirks gracing their lips.

You stand there however with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion as he draws closer to you. “I’m still in my day clothes?” You state only receiving a chuckle in return.

“I’m aware.” He smirks, admiring the way the silk of your dress hugs your curves. It drives him to madness and he can’t help but grasp at your hips as he continues to drink in the sight of you. "You don't need your dressers to get you ready for bed... I can take care of that for you."

The realisation hits all so suddenly, taking your breath away and the only response you can give him is a small ‘Oh’ which only makes him chuckle once more against the soft skin of your shoulder.

It had been far too long since he had taken you, all the interrupted moments and the long busy days had caused a searing ache between your thighs that you had tried to sate with your fingers, but nothing could compare to Aegon— he knew you like the back of his hand, he filled the spaces you couldn’t.

“What has spurred this one?” You ask, tone hushed and breathless as he leaves a trail of warm kisses along your neck and the dip of your shoulder. It wasn’t a complaint, far from it, you just wanted to know whether or not he burned for you the way you did for him.

And gods did he. Aegon's fingers work at the laces of your dress with practised ease, his touch feather-light and yet exhilarating. He watches you through the reflection of the mirror, the way the silk of your dress ripples down your body like a waterfall until it pools around your feet leaving you vulnerable to him.

“Do I need an excuse to want to touch you like this?” He whispers, lips grazing against the curve of your jaw. It’s all so dizzying in such an embarrassing way.

You lean back against him, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your waist causing your skin to break out in gooseflesh. He mumbles something about how ‘sensitive you are’ into the crook of your neck and you can feel the smirk that teeters on his lips when a breathless moan escapes you.

“No of course not— I’ve missed you.” You sigh, leaning your head to expose more of your neck to him as your fingers find his hair.

He nuzzles his nose against the underside of your jaw, humming in contentment as your sweet flowery scent surrounds him. “I’ve missed you— so much.” He breathes.

Aegon cups your jaw, tilting your head slightly to the side so he can kiss you. So slow and yet full of passion that has only been building up for the past few weeks. He groans into your eager mouth the taste of your tongue against his own going straight to his cock.

His arms wrap around your midsection, pulling you closer to him. He press his growing erection against the curve of your ass and he can’t help but rut against you slightly. He was more pent up than he realised.

He breaks the messy kiss momentarily, his breath warm against your skin. "You taste... incredible..." he whispers, his voice a low rumble, before kissing you once again.

“The wine perhaps.” The words are hushed through a small giggle. Once again his lips find yours, not breaking as you turn around in his embrace, one of his hands reaching up to caress your warm cheek.

"No," he murmurs, pulling back to admire you with a hungry look and a lazy grin. "It's not the wine." He leans back in. "It's... you," the kiss is much greedier, and his hands trace a path down your spine, resting against the small of your back, drawing you closer to his body.

You gasp, hands flying to grab his forearms as he suddenly begins to guide you backwards over to your shared bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress as you collide with the softness of the bedsheets, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Where did your manners go?” You tease him lightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with desire in your eyes as he lifts his tunic over his head, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

He smirks, leaning over you, trailing his lips along your collarbones— a clash of teeth and tongue. His hips lay flush over your own as he slowly grinds himself down onto you, relishing in the sweet sounds that you make.

"My manners?" he murmurs against your chest, his eyes meeting your own with a glint of playfulness flashes through them. "They flew out the window the moment I took that dress off of you."

His gaze roams over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out beneath him bare— hips writhing desperately. You gasp against the pillows as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak whilst his other hand cups your unattended breast, thumbing over the nub.

“Aegon— please.” The words are a struggle to get out as he’s rendered you completely breathless, but the way your hips lift up to try and press against his, desperate for attention, tells him everything he needs to know.

He hums in understanding, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts. “I’ll get there, my love… I’ll get there.” He coos softly, his hand falling to your restless hips as his thumb rubs over the curve and dips whilst his mouth ravishes your chest in wet kisses and small licks.

Aegon slips his hand in between your thighs, watching your face intently as his fingers part your slick folds, running along the sensitive flesh before catching your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud. He’s completely taken with the way you arch up into his touch, how your lips part, the sounds you make. All of it— all of you—causes his cock to throb.

You mewl, hips bucking against his hand as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them. “Mhm… you’re so beautiful with my fingers buried in your cunt,” He smirks, enjoying the fact he isn’t the only one who has been pent up. “So wet…” the words are muffled against your lips, your slickness coating his digits.

You brush your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Your free hand works deftly to unlace his breeches, the fabric falls mid-thigh letting his cock spring free, begging for attention.

Aegon hisses sharply into your ear, burying his face against your shoulder as your hand wraps around his length. “I want your cock inside me, please…” you beg him, voice strained with pleasure. The deep desire to feel him as close to you as humanly possible completely drowns out everything else in your mind, your thoughts now are only of him.

He nods his head in compliance, not having the strength the refrain himself any longer than he already has. Sliding his fingers out of your cunt, he coats your slickness around the tip of his thick shaft, the feeling sends a tingle down his spine, his skin hot to the touch.

Aegon swats your hand away gently as he guides the head of his cock between your folds, nudging the tip against your clit over and over again basking in the way his name sounds coming from you all whiny, laced with such wanton passion.

He groans as he lines himself up to your entrance before sinking into you slowly, whispering soft lovely words of encouragement against your jaw. The way you take him with ease, how your slick walls clamp around him it’s all so maddening— so mind-numbing and all he can do is huff and moan against your skin.

The stretch of him is so achingly good, the drag of his cock along your walls as he thrusts his hips against your own sends a searing heat through your abdomen. Aegon mutters on about how ‘good you feel’ and how ‘well you take him’ like some sort of crazed man, completely drunk off of your body.

His movements soon become sloppy, trying so hard to keep himself from spilling too early but the sounds of wet flesh and your moans coupled with the way your cunt squeezes around him makes it nearly impossible as he teeters closer to the edge.

“Fuck— I can’t— it’s been too long I— I won’t last.” He whimpers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. His hands pin your hips down to the bedsheets as he continues to fuck himself into you, moaning hotly against your flushed skin as you wrap your thighs around his waist to hold him closer.

“I- I’m close… don’t worry.” You reassure him, your hand grasping at his white hair. The tightness deep inside him eventually snaps, spilling his warm seed inside you with a broken cry of pleasure, panting and whining into the crook of your neck as apologies fly from his lips. You grab his face, kissing him greedily as you come around cock, milking him practically dry.

The pair of you go boneless against the comfort of the pillows, catching your breaths with dazed expressions. Aegon’s fingers trace a soothing line along your spine as you instinctively seek out the warmth of his arms.

“Sorry-” He rasps with a lazy grin, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. "It's been too long"

“Mm… don't apologise, we'll never go that long apart again.” You reply earning a weak nod and a hum of agreement from him. You rest your cheek against his chest, allowing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm your own erratic one.

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-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{The war has brought many casualties, those that you’ve already seen begin to unfold before you}

I’ve received many requests for another part so here it is, sorry for the long wait. Enjoy my lovelies!! 💕

//!CW!// spoilers for Rhaenyra’s death//

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The sound of men and clanging metal intermingled throughout the camp, overwhelming your senses. It was a sound Cregan promised would soon become a distant noise. He was wrong.

You sit on the bed, palms pressing against your ears with a deep frown. You hated it here, hated the cold and the men and the noise and the way they all looked at you with a strange look in their eyes as if you were some kind of creature from beyond the wall that their nursemaids used to scare them with.

You missed Winterfell, the warm castle and the glass garden that you spent hours in, admiring the winter roses. It had quickly become your home and you were sick with the desire to go back, but Cregan wanted you here he needed you here.

You just wanted to escape from your mind, the murmurs and whispers. The way it screams at you to make the blasted noise all stop.

“Apologies, there was some trouble with the-” his words fall short as he spots you, wrapped up in furs, hunched over and covering your ears as if you were in pain. The sight was an immediate punch to the gut.

He felt awful in truth, he should’ve left you home in warmth where you could be comfortable, but the daunting thought of you going through another episode whilst he was gone, far away from you… it was enough to make his stomach turn with unease.

“Y/n?…” he calls your name softly, sitting down beside you with a small frown. His index finger and thumb cup your chin to tilt your head, making you look up at him.

“I want to go back home.” You tell him, your voice trembling with sadness and from the cold air that was clearly getting to you.

He nods in understanding, working his fingers around your wrists to bring your hands away from your ears and down into his lap. Gods, you weren’t making him feel any better.

“I know my girl, just hang in there.” He whispers the same thing he has told before. His voice was hoarse with exhaustion but loving all the same. His thumb caresses over your knuckles, trying to soothe away your troubles and bring you warmth.

However, his gentleness does very little to quell the sudden pang of frustration that hits your chest.

“It’s cold and noisy and I’m sick of being looked at like some sort of monster!… you’ve dragged me out here for your own sake without a single care about me!” The words come out too quick and too harsh. Regret immediately fills your heart.

He stops for a moment, looking a little taken aback by your sudden anger. his expression softens as he squeezes your hand. “You know that’s not true.” He tells you firmly, his hands still holding your own tightly. He was worried for you, deeply, it showed in smaller ways but it was still fiercely there. “You’re here for your own good… I’m sorry.”

He can tell you are miserable, the way your lips purse together in a pout and how your eyes seem to droop. such an expression didn’t suit you. Silence settles between the pair of you, his thumb rubbing across your soft palm.

“Forgive me for shouting, I do not mean to.” The words leave your lips in a soft whisper, defeat weighing heavily against your shoulders as you slouch.

“Don’t be silly, I’ve dealt with unruly men with tempers far worse than yours for weeks now” He sighs, giving you a small smirk which you return weakly.

“I could be worse if you’d like.” You tease lightly, trying to make light of the situation you are currently stuck in.

“No, you’re alright.” He deadpans, trying to fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. “You’ve already got the dragon's temper.” His words are muffled against the back of your hand and for a moment you feel the warmth that you craved.

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The following days were slow, not much happened and the Ravens seemed to be few and far between. You were nowhere near Kings Landing, the snow on the floor could attest to that.

You found peace within your tent- away from prying eyes who judged you without even knowing you- curled up in the furs enjoying how the air carried a twinge of the warmth dragged from the bonfire that was in the centre of the camp. Soon enough sleep would capture you, allowing you a small moment of respite.

Cregan had left you not too long ago, whispering a promise of returning as soon as possible whilst pressing gentle kisses against your forehead in an attempt to coax you to sleep. The sun had set since then, and the camp was now much calmer than it had been as of late, it seems as though the men were getting restless.

Sleep had always been a false sense of security for you, ever since you could remember. Rhaenyra, your mother, had tried every remedy known to the Maester on Dragonstone, she had even resorted to sending ravens to the Citadel but to no avail.

With the history books telling her little to nothing and the Maesters all at a loss she felt as if she had failed you, but then again most dreamers in your lineage were failed. Doomed from the moment they first drew breath.

You were clearly no exception, and your dreamless sleep soon turned violent. The cries, hot dragon fire, a woman burning, the smell of charred flesh. you had seen this one before but not like this, not so real as if you were witnessing it first hand.

It plays on repeat and you can’t seem to wake or move for that matter, paralysed to do nothing but watch. Then you see her, your mother, her purple eyes meet your own as she stands before a golden Dragon. She does not flinch or cry out for the Gods but merely braces herself for the inevitable.

The sight of her burning body sends a searing heat through your spine almost as if you had taken her place. Suddenly you’re jolting upright, screaming until your lungs feel like they might just collapse and kicking the furs off of your body.

“No! no… no, no.” You mumble to yourself, standing up on unsteady feet as you stumble out of the tent and into the freezing cold air. The chill gives you relief then everything goes numb, and the world around you doesn’t feel stable enough like some kind of weary dream.

Smoke was the only thing you could smell, so strong that it chokes you up as you continue to rush through the camp. Muttering about fire and dragons to yourself, completely crazed in the eyes of the men around you.

“Lady Stark?!” The sound of worried voices filters through the ringing in your ears. It’s too much.

Cregan had long abandoned the meeting in one of the tents as soon as your scream echoed through the camp, shouting demands to the men around him whilst rushing to try and get you in a desperate attempt.

Strong hands grasping your elbows causes you to stop in your tracks, it was Cregan, you were safe. You stare up at him all teary-eyed and shallow breaths. Your own hands tremble as you hold his forearms tightly.

“She’s burning… breathing dragon, burning flesh, she's burning.” You tell him frantically, your fingers digging into the leather on his arms. “She’s burning.” The words all come out in harsh gasps.

“Seven hells… you’re going to freeze.” He rasps, taking off his fur cloak to drape it over your shoulders, pulling it around your body to protect you from the chill in the air.

You continue to hold onto him for dear life, muttering a series of “No… no… please no.” Against his chest as he holds you close to him tightly, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“Go on, off with you all!… you’ve got better things to be doing.” He shouts, watching the men disappear back into their own tents, busying themselves with a few odd tasks.

He guides your tense body back over to the warmth of your shared tent, sitting you down on the bed as you continue to murmur incoherent words of protest. Cregan brushes his fingers through your hair, trying to pull you out of his dazed state.

“She’s going to die… she's dying, I don’t want her to die.” You panic, hands grasping his own with a worried look, brows pulled together.

“Who, who will die?” He asks softly, the rough pad of his thumb gently rubs over your knuckles, soothing the tremble in your hands.

“My mother… it was so clear, please, we have to warn her.” The words are a struggle to get out, trying to fight the way your throat closes up.

He watches the helplessness in your eyes intensify, how your fingers tighten around his hands in desperation. There was little either of you could do so far away, your dragon had died a whelp and the ravens would never make it to Kings Landing in time. All he can do is pull you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, I’m sorry…” he murmurs against your hairline, holding you as you cry against his shoulder.

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You never lost hope, for the following days. You waited on bated breath for further news, constantly looking up at the sky for any Ravens… Dragons… anything that would be a sign she was still alive. Nothing had come until the early hours of the next morning.

Two scrolls with the wax seal of House Targaryen. Two deaths that would officially end the ongoing conflict.

“Y/n?…” Cregan calls your name softly, watching you intently as the letters fall from between your fingers and onto the floor.

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes fixed on the ground beneath you. You did not cry, you couldn’t and it destroyed Cregan. He’d rather your tears than this distant look of despair that glazes across your eyes. His hand rests against your own, fingers caressing your palm gently.

“The stranger looms behind me, whispering the fates of my loved ones into my ears and all I can do is stand by and watch… I am useless.” Your whisper, voice so hushed and broken.

Cregan doesn’t know what to say, he’s at a loss and he fears any words that dare leave his lips will just end up coming out as a sob. Instead, he pulls on your hand until you’re collapsing against him, head tucked under his chin.

“Don’t blame yourself… she wouldn’t want that.” He whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as your arms wrap around him, clinging to him like he was your lifeline.

He spoke the truth, he’d already heard plenty about your mother from both you and Jacaerys enough to know that her love for you was beyond what words could ever describe.

Maybe it was the exhaustion… the cold… or the grief that broke the dam in your eyes, making you cry out in choked sobs against his chest as his fingers brush through your hair soothingly.

“I want to go home Cregan…” you beg him through tears, going limp against his sturdy form.

“I’ll get you home sweet girl… I will.” He promises, not daring to let you go just in case you completely crumble before him. He would keep his oath he made to your mother, to protect you even from your own mind. Cregan would soon take you home but not before you witness your youngest brothers crowning.

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I need him so bad, my bitch fine as hell 🤭💕🫶

{{also need whatever the fuck they’re giving him injected into my blood real quick}}

- Hiya my lovelies!! 💕

Please send over some requests for house of the dragon, I’m dying to write for my baby girls <3

Or you can check out my master-list here! for other fandoms, love you lots!! 💕

Hello! May i request another cute moment with Cregan Stark and his son? Maybe Cregan was starting to teach his son how to use the sword. Idk if this is a good idea.

-Cregan Stark x Reader

I love this!! thank you for requesting, enjoy my lovelies💕

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Summer in the North was not so different from the winter, save for the slightest change in the air and the fact that the sun made an appearance every now and again. The people also seemed happier too, lighter without the weight of worry that sat heavily upon their shoulders.

This meant that Cregan had more free time, the afternoons now spent with his son, Rickon, out in the training yard. The echos of their laughter filled Winterfell with a warmth, it was infectious.

You stand underneath the stony overhang, watching the pair of them with a content expression. Cregan shows him how to hold the wooden sword, giving him pointers on how to stand correctly and how to swing the sword without hurting himself.

“There we go son, getting the hang of it.” He beams proudly, watching Rickon swing the sword against the hay-filled man before ruffling his brown hair with a chuckle. He was so patient with him, never once rushing him.

The sound of your clapping makes the pair of them turn around, each of them wearing the same love-filled expression and dark messy hair.

“Momma!” Rickon giggles, dropping his sword before rushing over to you with a toothy grin and bright eyes. It still makes your heart leap with joy whenever he calls you ‘momma’ despite the fact he isn’t yours you still love him like he is, he’s practically your other half.

You reach down to brush the snowflakes from his hair, your hand brushing against his rosy cheek as hugs you sideways. “Are you not too cold my sweet?” You ask softly, watching as he shakes his head.

“No… but did you see me, did you? I’ll be using real swords soon!” He exclaims excitedly, jumping up and down in pure joy as Cregan joins the pair of you, resting his hand against the small of your back.

“I did, you’re a natural.” Your words only make his smile brighten, his hands clasping together with a giggle. The sight causes Cregan's heart to melt, tenderness blooming through his chest.

It fills him with adoration, the way you treat his son with such kindness, how you’ve learned all about his interests and the way you read to him nightly. The love he harbours for the pair of you was stronger than the winds of the North.

Rickon rushes off back to the training yard, shouting for you to watch him before picking the wooden sword back up.

“Here… you look cold, my love.” Cregan notes, taking off one of his furs before draping them gently over your shoulders to protect you from the chill that lingers in the air. He takes your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles in hopes of warming them up.

You look up at him with a warm smile, watching as he guides your hands to his mouth, his lips peppering gentle kisses along your knuckles and the back of your hands. “Thank you, always so attentive.” You whisper, your tone carrying a certain twinge of playfulness.

“Of course, you’re carrying my child now, you deserve only the best.” He says firmly, pressing another kiss against your temple, his hand caressing your back comfortingly.

You hum in acknowledgement, leaning against his sturdy frame as he holds you close to his chest. The pair of you watch Rickon as he swings the wooden sword into the straw man with vigour.

“Do you think he’ll be excited?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him, his hair half tied up to keep it out of his eyes.

“Oh, he’ll be over the moon.” His words soothe the worry in your heart, suddenly replaced by excitement as he continues with a chuckle, “I can already picture him, as soon as they can walk he’ll be dragging them out here.”

You giggle at the thought of Rickon teaching his younger sibling to sword fight, your hand falling to the slight swell of your stomach. The idea of the Winterfell castle being filled with a litter of mini Starks, their laughter and bickering, it brought a giddiness to the both of you.

Rickon continues to practice for a few more minutes, running towards the straw man with the sword grasped tightly in his hands only to slip, falling against the gravel on his knees, you gasp softly in worry as Cregan goes to walk over to him.

“I’m okay!” He calls out to the pair of you, standing up with a bright smile, brushing off his knees before running back over to you.

“Gods be good.” Your husband sighs, shaking his head with a small twinge of amusement flickering through his eyes. “Let’s get you both inside, hey…”

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