Chapter Text
"Are we sure it's the prince?"
"Who else would it be?"
"It could be the Hightowers’ offspring."
Cregan stared up at the dragon circling the night sky above Winterfell, its figure lit by the half moon. He blinked through the rain running down his face and shrugged. "It's a dragon. If it wants to land, it will. Not much to be done about it.”
"And what exactly is your plan if it’s Aemond Targaryen who falls from the sky?"
"Ignore him and hope he leaves?" Cregan suggested.
"Lord Stark—"
"Calm down, Osric." It was too easy to wind up his worry-wart of a captain. The man was getting on in years and his patience for jests waned each year. "We received word of the prince's arrival. It'll be him. The Hightowers know who we swore loyalty to. They have no reason to come here."
"Aye well, let's hope you’re right, My Lord."
They both traced the dragon’s path as it circled closer and closer. The prince was taking his time to announce his arrival as opposed to unceremoniously landing his dragon in the courtyard. Cregan appreciated the effort, though he hoped the prince would not stall much longer. His bed was calling for him, so loudly its cries were almost heard over the wind.
Cregan, come join me...
Yes, he definitely needed to sleep.
“See that you don’t scare off the prince with that scowl on your face.” Osric said, eyeing him sideways.
Cregan found that his features had indeed twisted themselves in a grimace, and he did his best to smoothen his face. “Ironic coming from you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a good mood.”
“I am an old man, frowning is what we do. You’re young, My Lord, too young to look like the fate of the world rests solely upon your shoulders.”
“Not the world’s fate, no.” Only the North’s, he didn’t add.
Osric acknowledged his words with a hum. “Perhaps the prince’s visit will do you some good then.”
Cregan arched his brow at the ridiculousness of that statement, but the old man merely gave a decisive nod.
“You know, I met the Queen when she was around her son’s age, when I accompanied your father south. If the prince resembles her in any way, he’ll be a breath of fresh air to your overall gloom, no offence meant of course.”
“Offence taken.” Cregan grumbled, even if it mostly proved Osric’s comment on his disposition.
It was not his fault the Gods had decided to test him, a harsh winter looming alongside the threat of a succession war, all whilst Winterfell was still in the aftermath of its own power struggle. He had a right to his gloom and he doubted the prince would be of any aid. “He’s the heir to a Throne he’s looking to secure. After confirming our loyalty and the men we can spare, he’ll leave. I doubt he’ll be here long enough to breath fresh air near me.”
“I respectfully disagree, My Lord. Times such as these call for a closer bond with your allies. The Queen will have realised this as well.”
Cregan hummed, not entirely disagreeing.
“And the friendship of a Targaryen prince would not exactly be a negative for us either, wouldn’t you say? It might inspire silence in those would do well to shut up for once.” Osric added.
A good point, but still—
“Friendship? A minute ago, you worried about the Greens descending on us and now you’re filled with hope and pretty words? Are you feeling all right, Osric?”
“Well, you seem certain it is our prince circling us. And who am I to question you, My Lord?”
“You question me all the fucking time, old man.”
The captain’s own perpetual frown lifted for a moment as he barked out a laugh, clapping a heavy hand on Cregan’s shoulder.
“Only to keep you sharp, Cregan.”
The familiarity of his name on Osric’s tongue and the laughter in his eyes was enough to raise Cregan’s mood for the first time that night. As if sensing the uplift, the heavy sound of beating wings grew closer and the silhouette of the dragon clearer as it closed in on the courtyard.
"You can go back to sleep." Cregan nodded in the direction of the barracks where Osric stayed with his guardsmen. "I can see the prince inside on my own."
"For my own peace of mind, I think I'll linger just a bit longer. Until I know for sure you won't be burned to a crisp."
"I'll feel better knowing you're here to stop a dragon from doing just so." The man’s answering eye-roll raised his spirits even higher, reminded of his thirteen-year-old self annoying Osric in search of that exact response. It was good to know some things didn’t change.
"Please treat the prince with more decorum, I beg of you.”
"I'll be on my best behaviour." He pledged. A pledge he was intending to honour despite the sarcastic lilt to his voice. He couldn’t deny his own curiosity at the visiting noble, having never actually met a member of the Targaryen family, mysterious as they were, nor had he ever seen a dragon.
"Great, that inspires me with confidence." Osric muttered as he stepped away to lean against a shadowed part of the wall encircling the courtyard.
Cregan allowed himself a final smile before straightening his face. The dragon grew bigger as it neared the courtyard, and Cregan stepped forward from the shadowed wall to make himself more visible in the torchlight. The sound of beating wings thundered in his ears as the dragon finally arrived, the ground trembling slightly as the beast landed with a thud, only a few feet away.
Cregan blinked. There was a dragon in his courtyard. For the first time in his life, Winterfell’s thick stone walls felt utterly useless. He blinked again. The dragon’s eyes shone bright in the moonlight, its green scales shimmering, and Cregan suppressed a shiver as its piercing gaze fell on him. The creature was smaller than those in the stories he had grown up with, but those eyes warned him of danger nonetheless. He had to force himself to look away from them and focus on the rider instead.
Prince Jacaerys was graceful in his descent, sliding down with ease and landing firmly on his feet. He spoke a few words to his dragon, though Cregan could not make them out, and then approached, footsteps sure and head held high, until a pair of dark eyes came into the torchlight, piercing like his dragon as they studied him silently.
Cregan took the opportunity to do the same. The prince's infamous dark curls were tousled and wet from his journey, and he bore the face of royalty with a strong nose and defined jaw. There was a determined glint in his eyes, brimming with purpose. For a moment Cregan wondered whether the prince might have the gall to make his demands right there, in the dead of night, before they had even exchanged a single greeting.
So much for that friends—
The prince smiled, so surprisingly shy it made Cregan blink again with how boyish it made him look, harmless and innocent, as if he wasn’t the heir to the Iron Throne who’d arrived on a dragon of all things.
The prince’s eyes flicked to somewhere over his shoulder, and Cregan wondered if he’d spotted Osric when—
"You do have a direwolf." The prince stated, not without awe.
Cregan froze. How did he—a familiar flicker in his mind coincided with movement from his left as Grey abandoned her hidden perch to join them in the torchlight. Her massive head brushed Cregan’s upper arm in a silent request that he fulfilled with a soft stroke down her neck, her grey fur wet with rain but still warm to the touch. She stood surprisingly calm, ears lifted and back a smooth straight line, unbothered by the stranger and the dragon. Cregan had long trusted her with his life, so he followed her lead and loosened the tense hold of his shoulders.
"Oh, I apologise—Lord Stark, I presume?" The prince said, eyes jumping from Grey to the sword strapped to Cregan’s back as if it was his key recognising feature.
Cregan inclined his head. "Prince Jacaerys."
He was fairly certain he was dealing with Queen Rhaenyra's eldest son, but the nod he got in return was a welcome confirmation.
"I'm sorry, My Lord, it's just—there were some in White Harbor who claimed to have seen a direwolf by your side, but most dismissed it as a myth."
Good, Cregan thought, that was how he preferred it. Though she wouldn’t remain a myth for long if this was her new way of treating visitors.
“She doesn’t care for visitors usually.”
“Oh,” The prince frowned, as if unsure whether Grey’s presence was a good or bad thing. And then he smiled that smile again, a confusing mix of determination and timidity that made Cregan feel strangely wrong-footed.
"Well, in that case, I'm honoured." Prince Jacaerys continued, inclining his head in a small bow towards Grey. "My Lady, a pleasure."
Cregan could only stare, bewildered. No one, outside of maybe Sara, had every called Grey a lady before, let alone bowed to her. He hated that it charmed him.
"Does she have a name?"
His hesitation was overrun by the thought that the prince had earned her shortened name at least, in exchange for his respect. "I call her Grey, whether she considers it her name…" He trailed off with a shrug.
The prince huffed out a small laugh. "I understand." He said, glancing over his shoulder at the dragon whose gaze remained focused on his rider and his strange companions. Despite the prince's more than pleasant demeanour, Cregan had not forgotten the dragon standing guard, its eyes a pervading glimmer in the dark.
"I named him Vermax, but whether he answers to it, well, he's a free spirit."
A dragon with a free spirit roaming around Winterfell? Worry spiked in Cregan’s gut.
The prince grimaced slightly. "Oh, I didn’t mean—there’s no need to worry, he means no harm."
Not the words Cregan would use to describe a fire-breathing creature capable of mass destruction, but the prince was all but oozing sincerity, and Cregan liked to think he was a decent judge of character. Rationality told him that with the years of peace behind them and Grey’s unruffled manner, ears relaxed and tail swishing calmly, he had no reason to think the dragon would just attack. So for now, he’d accept the prince’s words.
Still, he’d rather not have a dragon residing in his courtyard.
"I fear we don't quite have lodgings for him."
"I didn't expect you to. He’ll find a place to sleep on his own. And he'll bother no one, I promise you."
Cregan considered the prince for a moment, the earnestness In his eyes as he vouched for his dragon, and chose to meet him in the middle. "The Wolfswood to the west offers food and warmth.” He said. “There is plenty of wildlife and the trees keep out the worst of the rain."
Dangerous creature or not, the dragon was a guest, and Cregan would try his best to treat him so.
The prince’s eyes grew a little wider, and his smile reappeared, a little softer. "That's a kind suggestion, Lord Stark, much appreciated." He glanced at his dragon again, glowing eyes snapping to his rider's. A moment later, the creature beat its wings to rise up into the air, the gust of wind almost forcing Cregan a step back. The dragon circled above the courtyard to gain height, before disappearing in the direction of the Wolfswood. Cregan stared after him, wondering just how the dragon understood where to go, until a violent shiver wracking the young prince’s body drew his attention back down.
"Let's get out of the cold." He motioned for the prince to follow him. Osric' hiding spot when they passed it. He must’ve been somewhat content with Cregan's welcome then. The prince glanced at the spot as well. Had he seen Osric standing there? It seemed unlikely with how dark it was.
"I hope your journey went well?" Cregan asked politely as they entered the Great Keep, inspired by the reminder of Osric's earlier plea. Grey trailed after them, quiet and calm as if they escorted a stranger inside the keep every day.
"It was fine. I’m still adjusting to the weather."
"You'd best embrace it. The rain hasn’t let up much these past days."
The prince huffed out a laugh. "I'll simply stay inside then, it’s almost warm in here." He curiously pressed a hand against the stone wall as they walked through the corridor, as if sensing the source of warmth. “How is the stone not cold?”
"It’s warmed with the water from the hot springs beneath Winterfell, there are pipes running through the walls.”
The prince looked impressed. "That’s incredible."
Cregan agreed. It was a great feat of engineering, one he was profoundly grateful for, especially in wintertime. They went up the main staircase and down another corridor, and the prince's hand never left its place on the wall, slender fingers sliding reverently across the stone as if adhered to the source of heat.
"Oh, before I forget." The prince spoke suddenly. "I wanted to apologise for the late hour. With Vermax—"
"No need for apologies, Prince Jacaerys. A later arrival is much preferred over the commotion your dragon would’ve caused in broad daylight."
The prince frowned "He really is of no danger to your people."
His subdued voice invoked a sense of sympathy inside Cregan's chest. The prince had not met Grey with fear, despite her size and the long canines peeking from her muzzle, so the least Cregan could do, was shown him the same kindness.
"I didn’t mean to imply so." He said. “But they’ve never seen a dragon. Commotion would have been inevitable, danger or not.”
"Oh. Right. That’s fair. I’ll...keep him out of sight then.”
Not exactly what he’d meant, but he couldn’t lie that he preferred it that way. The last thing he needed was a panicked Wintertown on top of everything else that already busied him. Their arrival at the prince’s room saved him from answering.
"This is yours." He opened the door to a bedchamber illuminated by a crackling fire. A wide bed dominated most of the room, mattress covered in furs, alongside a desk and a drawer, with a big armchair sat near the hearth. The prince eagerly moved inside, dropping the bag that had been slung over his shoulder as he warmed his hands in front of the fire, colour returning to his pale skin. The flames lit up the three-headed dragon on the prince’s chest, driving home the reminder that a Targaryen was gracing these halls for the first time in many decades.
The image of royalty clashed with the simpleness of the room.
"We could put you up in the guest house if you prefer." Cregan offered. The building was big for one person and would need a lot more fires to keep it heated properly, the hot springs beneath the castle only doing so much. But—
"This is perfect." Prince Jacaerys interrupted his thoughts, with another one of those smiles. He gave them so freely it almost made Cregan want to return one. Almost. This one was appreciative and soft—Gods, he needed sleep.
"Alright. There should be extra clothes in the drawer if you have need of them. Tomorrow I'll get you a proper cloak so you can survive the rest of your stay here." He said, eyeing the red thin red cloak draped over his shoulders.
Another breathy laugh. "Thank you for your hospitality, My Lord. And for your interest in keeping me alive."
Cregan nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face impassive. "Breakfast is served an hour after dawn. Someone will come wake you. Have you need of something else before I take my leave?"
The prince shook his head.
"Goodnight then, My Prince."
Those dark eyes widened a little for a reason Cregan couldn’t fathom.
"Goodnight, My Lord."
Cregan closed the door and stood there for a moment, finding his bearings. Grey chuffed, and if she were human, she’d be laughing at him. He just needed a moment to adjust his expectations, because he’d been prepared for at least a small amount of southern arrogance, a crown prince staking a rightful claim, and instead he’d been met with a sort of shy charm that was so unexpected it had Cregan forgetting what the prince’s purpose of visiting even was. Could it simply be a very strange tactic to make Cregan more agreeable? If it was, he was embarrassed to admit it might be working. He really needed to find his bed. A good night sleep would set his head straight.
He instructed some guards to stay posted around the prince’s room, because good impression or not, he was not taking any risks with his family nearby. The inner living quarters were quiet and dark, the only sound being Grey immediately trotting off to Rickon’s room. Cregan yearned for his bed, and it distracted him enough that he flinched in a way he would forever deny when his sister grabbed onto him from the dark.
“Gods, Sara—it’s the middle of the night. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, oh fearless Lord Stark.”
Cregan glared at her.
“I heard you getting up earlier. Figured the prince might finally be arriving so I climbed the tower for a good view. I can’t believe I finally saw a dragon.” Her voice was filled with awe. “You were so close to it, were you scared? You can be honest with me, Creg.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Fine, don’t be honest then. Tell me about the prince. Was he a pompous princeling like you thought he’d be?”
“I never said that.”
“Sure you didn’t. Well, was he?”
“No. He smiles a lot.” They were the first words that came to mind, and since he had a hard time keeping up a front around his baby sister, they were also the words that came out of his mouth.
Sara looked a tad bewildered. “He—?”
“It might be a front.”
That earned him an eye-roll. “Or he’s just a person who smiles a lot.” Sara said pointedly. “We can’t all be like you, stoic down to our core.”
It was Cregan’s turn to roll his eyes. Stoicism was difficult to maintain with a sister like his.
“So,” Sara continued. “He smiles a lot. Very important observation, I’m sure. Anything else?”
“No.” Cregan said, pushing past her, already annoyed at himself and her.
“Cregan,” She whined, following him to his chambers. “Just tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He’s been here for five minutes.”
“That’s enough for a first impression at least. Is he handsome?”
Yes. “I don’t know.”
He pushed into his bedchamber, almost smiling at the sight of his bed until Sara blocked the door from closing.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I’m going to bed.” Cregan said.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me something. Is he that much of an arsehole you can’t—“
“He seems nice.” He interrupted her, because he believed her when she said she wouldn’t leave and he really needed to sleep.
“Nice?” Sara’s eyes grew wide. “Unbelievable, you like him already.” There was no teasing in her voice, only utter surprise, which almost made it worse.
“I don’t like him.” Cregan frowned. Like was such a stupid word, as if they were children.
“Well, you don’t dislike him. Which is a lot for you after first meeting someone. A noble nonetheless. From the South.”
There was a grain of truth in that, but damn him if he was ever going to admit that to his sister.
“I’m going to bed.” Cregan repeated.
His sister smiled, wide and bright, her eyes sparkling with joy. Cregan stared at her for a moment. She must have really thought of him as a miserable bastard if the mere idea of him not disliking a visitor made her this happy. He already dreaded her meeting the Prince.
“Breakfast is at two hours past dawn.” He lied, hoping to postpone the inevitable a little longer.
Her smiled dimmed a little. “That’s later than usual.”
He shrugged. “Southerners, you know.”