Baelor steps out of the carriage first and takes Aeva from you, cradling her in one arm and helping you down the wooden steps with the other. She coos as he adjusts his hold to have his arm underneath her and her leant on his chest. The position gives her a great opportunity to look around the new surroundings and she squeals excitedly at everything she sees.

“She is talkative today.” Baelor muses, looking down at the smiling babe.

“Quite. Here I can take her.” You reach up to grab her but he stops you.

“Its quite alright, I can hold her. The journey has been long your body doesnt need anymore strain.” He presses and tender kiss to the back your hand before you walk up to the greeting party.

“It is an honour to have you here Prince Baelor. And you, Princesses.” Lord Lannister says standing tall beside his family.

“Thank you for hosting us,” Baelor says only to be cut off by an excited squeal from the babe in his arms. She has recently started making more clear noises- ahhs and oohs -that were not just crying and seemingly gets a lot of joy out of doing so. Aeva babbles relentlessly and happily, a constant stream of garbled noises interrupting any conversation being had and drawing all attention to her.

Walking through the halls of the castle Baelor questions her. “What has gotten into you today my love? Hmm? You are not giving any one else the chance to speak.” He tickles her belly playfully causing her squawk out a laugh and throw her head back.

“Perhaps she is trying to save us from tedious small talk. She far cuter and more interesting than anyone else here.” You smile up at her, stroking over the brown curls on top of her head.

Aeva runs her chubby fingers through the coarse hair of her fathers beard still mumbling quiet ‘ba ba ba’s to herself. “Mm.” He smiles fondly at her, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. “Just wait until she can actually talk. I fear we will have our hands full.”

Maekar

You sit up against the headboard with Rhae held against your chest having her last feed before shes put down for the night, the dim candle light making your own eyelids feel heavy. She suckles happily cooing against your breast while her hand busies itself toying with your hair. Maekar climbs into bed next to you groaning as the movement aches his limbs. He looks upon you both face as hard as ever but you can see the love hidden in the scowl.

“The others never made that much noise.” He refers to the constant humming coming from the tiny babe and watches her with a curiosity.

“I know. Perhaps she is just more vocal than they were.” You ponder, thinking back on your five previous babies, how tiny and fragile they were.

He scoffs. “Have you forgotten about Egg? That boy wouldnt shut up. Still wont.”

The last part is mumbled under his breath but you hear it nonetheless and elbow him playfully. He holds out a finger which she quickly grasps onto. Her tiny hand wrapping around his finger and gripping with a strength that should be impossible for someone so small. A cheerful gurgle leaves her throat as she pulls away from your breast, looking over to her father with wide eyes before yawning loudly.

“I think someone is ready for bed. Unfortunately my love you need to be burped first.” You sit her up in your lap and begin patting her back.

“Here, let me.” His hands are almost as long her, you think as he lifts her effortlessly to rest her head on his shoulder resume the soft pats on her back. He paces the room with her in his hold, her tired eyes looking at him from where she rests on his shoulder. He talks to her with a voice far to gentle for the man nicknamed The Anvil and she responds in kind- you fall asleep to the sound of their voices drifting around your chamber.

Dunk

“Look, these plants are important. If any of us catches a sickness these can relieve the pain.” Dunk holds up the leaves to the babe wrapped to his chest stares at them with intrigue. “N’keep an eye out for any lavender, your mother asked us to find some.”

“Aaaahhhhhh!” Otis claps his hand excitedly and squeals, flailing his little legs as Dunk continues his journey through the dense forest. Its times like this that Dunk was thankful that you lived on the road. Your boy had recently discovered how to yell and did so at every waking opportunity- luckily no one would be disturbed by it along the dusty roads you travelled.

Otis shrieked pointing a chubby arm infront of him with all the might he could muster. “What is it boy?” Dunk asks scanning over the plantlife beneath him. Its not until he looks up that he knows what caused such commotion.

A butterfly.

Fluttering its colourful wings just a few feet before them, landing occasionally on the delicate flowers running along the path before hopping to the next. It moved around with such ease among the calm of the woods.

“You like the butterfly? Pity your mother’s not with us, she could probably tell us what kind it is.” He says to himself trying to recall everything youd told him about the creatures before.

“Aaaahhhhhhh!” He made grabby hands and wiggled in the wrap wanting to claw his way out to investigate further.

“You cant touch it boy, theyre delicate things. Just for watching.” His fathers words dont stop his valiant effort as he continues yelling into the vast forest.

Cregan

Cregan had been away for a week or two tending to his duties as Lord of Winterfell. He hated when they took him away from his family but knew he had no choice, and you always gave him such a warm welcome back- especially your youngest Lyanna. It was the first time he had been away since her birth and its safe to say she had missed him. With your other two fast asleep she had all of her fathers attention. She sat on Cregans chest as he lays in the soft bed, babbling and patting his face which now has a healthy coating of stubble on it.

“Did you miss me?” Cregan asks to which the girl squeals in delight and continues smooshing her hands over the new texture on his cheeks. “Ill take that as yes. I missed you too.” She speaks to him in her own language- seemingly having a lot to say to him - not caring about the drool coming from her mouth. He does his best to wipe it away as she never ceases moving her mouth, cooing into the cloth before trying to eat it.

“Ive never heard her make this much noise.” You say, watching from by the hearth how he handles her so effortlessly. “I think shes trying to figure out how she feels about your beard.”

He chuckles causing Lyanna to bounce slightly. “Aye, it will be gone on the morrow girl, do not worry about it too much.”

At the sound of your voice she turns to look at you cooing happily when she spots you. You walk over to the bed now clad in only your nightgown and kiss her hair. “I dont she minds the beard.” You suggest. “Neither do I.”

“Good to know,” He sends a sublte wink your way before turning his attention back to the babe. “What do you think, hm? Should I try it out?” Her senseless babbles grow louder. “Yeah? Perhaps I wont shave tomorrow.”

Gwayne

“I know its… irritating, isnt it?” Gwayne speaks directly to the red haired babe playing on the floor before him who chatters excitedly. “The man forgets to send me even a raven for my nameday, but has no problem sending one when he needs something from me.”

Aemma clumsily crawls closer to him, settling into his lap, his hand naturally going across her front to hold her there. She tilts her head back and chirps at him. “I know, its terribly rude. And hes your grandsire. But its fine, you have us, thats enough isnt it, my girl?”

She giggles, reaching up to try and grab the hair thats fallen infront of Gwaynes face. “Of course it is.” His smile no longer carries the sadness it did moments before as he gazes down at her.

She lets out a sweet coo. “Is that so?”

Another cheerful gurgle accompanied with her shaking her head. “Wow, I had no idea that babes had such wisdom. I might have a miniature maester on my hands here.”

The gates of the Red Keep creak open allowing the flag bearers at the front of your group entry so they may announce your arrival.

"Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of The North, and his lady wife Princess Y/N Targaryen." You and Cregan ride in time with eachother and pull your horses to a stop just beyond the gate. He slides off the saddle before making his way to you to place his large hands on your waist and lift you from your own. You grunt as your boots meet the dirt of the courtyard and squeeze his arm in silent thanks before turning to see the group gathered to greet you.

"Daughter." Your mother Rhaenyra says with a warm smile that crinkles her eyes.

"Mother." You respond, walking to her where she meets you half way, embracing her in a crushing hold.

She pulls back and holds your face letting her eyes remember the face she hasnt seen in years. "It has been so long."

"I know, the journey is difficult- and long. Even by dragon. And is a miracle that Cregans duties have allowed him to come here." You turn slightly to face him. Hes stood behind you, slightly awkwardly for the Warden of the North, you think, but you dont blame him- he sticks out like a sore thumb here.

"Lord Stark, I trust the journey went well by all accounts." Rhaenyra says.

"Aye Your Grace. Your daughter is right, the journey is not forgiving, but she is tough."

"It would be quicker if someone would ride Cannibal with me." You jest and he just grunts.

"Come, let us get you inside."

The Red Keep was different than you remembered. Granted it had been many, many years since you had last been here, but it lacked the soul you recalled thrumming through every hall so vividly. Your grandsire had summoned the whole family here in celebration of his nameday. Instead of a grand tourney or hunt he had one wish: a dinner with his family. You were prepared to make the journey alone but Cregan had insisted on accompanying you after ensuring all his duties could be handled in his absence and truthfully you were thankful for his presence.

The staff showed you to your old bedroom where your belongings were already being unpacked by the handmaidens. You were thankful that your room seems to have been left untouched and didnt match the drab interior of the rest of the castle.

"Thank you, leave us." You softly receiving a sea of nods from the maids before filing out of the room. After the tell tale click of closing doors you walk over to your bed and flop down on your back with a huff.

Cregan leaves his place by the window and sits on the mattress next to you. "How are you feeling, love?"

You huff again. "Relieved. Stressed. Suffocated. Warm. Im feeling everything." He chuckled and laced his fingers with yours, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it tenderly. "And- gods-"

"You know you can speak your mind around me, wife." His voice is lower than usual as he watches you turn over the thoughts in your mind.

"Is it wrong of me to say I miss Winterfell? I have not even been here an hour and- I dont know. I am so happy to see my family again, but this place, its so different." You fiddle mindlessly with his wedding ring as you finally air out your feelings.

"You have lived in the North for a while now, I like to think it has become a home to you. It is normal to miss it." You hum, sitting up on your elbows to look at him properly. The movement causes a strand of hair to fall into your face which he swiftly tucks back behind you ear, leaving his hand there to stroke over the soft strands. "And this place did not give you the fondest of memories. I do not blame you for feeling stressed." It was no secret you struggled with your station. And then to add the constant insults and threats about your parentage, from your own family no less, it was no surprise you became overwhelmed and shut yourself away. You were thankful that Winterfell had lifted that stress from your shoulders.

"And its so warm." You say with a pout and headbutt his side.

He chuckles softly. "Aye, it is."

Viserys greets you with a hug and a pleased sigh of your name. "My word, you have grown so much. You look well, im glad the North is treating you as such."

Your heart hurts at his words. You wish you could say the same to him but time has not been kind to your grandsire. "Cregan takes good care of me, and the food up north is hearty."

He smiles, revealing a few decaying teeth but they do not dampen the sincerity of it. "And you are happy?"

"More than I have ever been."

"That is all I could hope for." He looks to Cregan who stands just behind you. "And Lord Stark. I am very appreciative that you made the journey here in spite of your duties. And equally for your care of my granddaughter."

"Of course, Your Grace." He nods politely. The Kings attention is whisked away somewhere else leaving you to look around the candle lit hall. Your eyes land on Alicent and Cregans follow. "Do you wish to greet her?"

"Not particularly, but it might be a matter of just taking the bull by the horns." You finish your glass of wine in one big gulp. "You must do your best to hold your tongue."

"Mm." He grumbles.

The dinner came and went without trouble. For once your family seemed to behave and refrain from sending eachother ceaseless insults over the meal. You enjoyed watching Cregan speak with Jace. Despite their differences they had formed a sort of friendship through Jaces occasional visits to the north, and it warmed your heart to see him fit so seamlessly into this part of your life. Aside from one unsavoury comment from Aegon about northerners prowess in a certain area, the evening went smoothly.

You ended the night with your head rested on Cregans chest in a bed that was far less cozy than your one back home. But you didnt mind, the wine moving through your veins settled you into a deep sleep as soon as you were in his arms.

The sun filtered through the net curtains far too easily, waking you much before you desired. The first thing you felt was your husband turning in the bed with a sleepy groan followed by a gruff, "Mornin'.”

"Morning my love." You kissed him softly noting the way his stubble felt against you. "Did you sleep well?"

"No." His voice is muffled by the pillow he buries his head in. Your lips move over his cheeks, down his neck and over the muscular plains of his shoulder. "Do not start something you cannot finish."

"I think you know full well that I can finish it." You say with a teasing lilt to your voice. You squeal when Cregan grabs your wrist and moves himself on top of you, brushing his nose against yours. You lift your head to kiss him deeply, whining into the kiss and fighting against his hold on your arms desperate to get your hands on him.

"Youre trouble, wife." He groans against your lips.

"You wouldnt have me any other way." He kisses your smiling mouth and finally releases your hands in favour of gripping harshly at the fat of your ass. He grinds his hardening cock against your cunt forcing you legs open wider to accommodate him which you do without complaint.

"I need you," You say between kisses. "Please Cregan."

"Shh, you have me." He blindly pulls up your night gown over your hips while his mouth works over the peak of your nipple through the silken fabric. He sits up slightly, fisting his leaking cock before lining it up with your entrance. As much as you loved foreplay, there was something so special about desperate, needy sex on a quiet morning- all hands and teeth and groping. He pushed into you slowly, the stretch sending a thrum of pleasure through you and only made you need him more.

He thrusts his hips deeply, the thick patch of hair surrounding his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders and pulled him closer needing his body pressed up against yours, needing to feel all of him. His mouth moves back to your chest which was now exposed by the flurry of movement and nibbles gently sending your hands flying to his hair and pulling at his long hair. He smiles as you whine and tug harder, growling against your tits and picking up the pace of his hips.

"Daughter, I-" Your mothers voice rings out through the room and both you and Cregan freeze. So lost in the feeling of eachother, you hadnt heard the doors open- only becoming aware the intrusion when she called out to you.

"Gods! I- I am so sorry," Rhaenyra covers her eyes and spins around lightning fast giving you a chance to separate from your lover and pull the covers over anything indecent. She speaks again, still facing away with a hand firml over her eyes. "I am so used to just- walking in. I forget that now my daughter is a woman grown. Please, forgive me."

Your cheeks couldnt be hotter as you stutter over your words. "I- Is everything okay?"

"Yes, nothing urgent. I was simply going to ask if you wanted to join me for a walk in the gardens. But it seems you have already decided your morning plans."

You let out an anguished whine and bury your head in your hands.

"Im sorry, im sorry," Your mother fights a smile as she moves towards the exit. "I will leave you to your… relations."

And with that she exits your bedroom leaving you a puddle of embarrassment next to your husband who sports a slight blush of his own.

"I can never look her in the eyes again."

"Come here." He pulls you into his side and rubs over your back. "It could be worse."

"Could it?" You query.

"Yes, but ill spare you the thoughts." He kisses your forehead softly and smiles, settling back into the bed bringing you with him. The warmth of his embrace somewhat scrubbed the mortification from your body. You were grateful you had found eachother, even more grateful that you were betrothed.

The walls of Winterfell, as well known, were raised upon natural hot springs. Fires were seldom needed; the very stones breathed warmth, lulling one toward sleep.

Heavy tapestries, richly embroidered, barred the morning sun from entering, and the chambers lay steeped in a soft, muted gloom. You lay sprawled in lazy serenity, buried beneath thick furs that cocooned you in warmth. But not only they kept the chill at bay. A man lay atop you, heavy and solid as another blanket entirely — Cregan, his cheek pressed to your belly, his broad palm splayed across your side, thumb tracing slow, absent circles against your skin. His long and dark hair had tangled overnight; he never braided it before sleep, and come morning he would grumble (adorably, you thought) about the knots that always seemed to find him.

You smiled at the thought, your fingers threading almost idly through his tousled locks. He looked so peaceful now, so utterly at rest, though he had only returned from the Wall a single day past, pushing his horse hard the whole way.

"I missed you," he mumbled against your skin, his breath warm and startling, raising goosebumps in its wake. You twitched, not having expected either of you to break the silence for some time yet. His hand shifted higher, sliding just beneath your ribs, and he hitched himself closer. Closer hardly seemed possible, you thought.

His eyes were still heavy with the pull of sleep. Cregan could easily sink back into dreams, lie tangled with you for hours more, until some urgent lord came pounding at the door with talk of accounts and petitions and all the thousand petty matters that lordship demanded. No. No one will tear me from my wife for a single second longer, stirred in his mind.

Home. The word suddenly echoed in his chest, strange and new. The grey stone of Winterfell, so often grim and unyielding, now meant only you. Your smile, your eyes catching the firelight; your laughter, your sorrow. Everything now filtered through the heart of a man who had once been as cold and impassive as the walls he ruled.

You hummed softly, scarcely above a whisper. "You've already said that…about ten times now." Your fingers burrowed deeper into his dark hair. Your gaze drifted across the broad expanse of his back, the muscle that lay carved even in stillness, broad and powerful. Cregan's breathing was deep, almost a soft snore; your touch, soothing as it was, made him sway faintly, following the motion of your hand like a great beast seeking comfort.

Then, as if stirring from a dream, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. His lips curved into a faint, almost teasing smile. "I think one more time wouldn't hurt, my lady." A playful glint lit his gaze as he pressed a quick kiss to your stomach, the nearest of his sudden carnality.

You kindle something wild in him, a storm he couldn't always name. Some days you were sharp-tongued and impossible, and he half-wondered if some old crone had taken root inside his pretty wife. Other days you were light and sly as a vixen, and he feared he could never keep pace, that you would vanish into the snowy depths of the wood and leave him chasing shadows.

A startled gasp escaped you at his unforeseen movement, and the heat rose swiftly to your ears, flooded to your cheeks. You must have looked like a maiden again. Cregan chuckled, warm and low. "Forgive me, my wife. My long absence has clearly made you forget what it is to be surrounded by a man's attention, to be so affected by it," he intoned, droning voice of a maester reciting some tedious moral. Then laughter broke through, bright and boyish, and his lips descended again to your sensitive skin.

Lord Stark kissed you with life and fire, playful and fervent, as if he wasn't kissing you at all but rather tumbling like a wolf pup with its littermates. Your vibrant laughter filled the space, and the man’s heart pounded harder with very beat. In an instant, his hands braced themselves on either side of you, and he hovered above your frame, his chest rising and falling, his hair wilder than before. A smile spread across his face — the kindest, most genuine smile — and a faint dimple appeared on his cheek. You would never have guessed that this rugged, weathered man of the North could hold such lightness, such unguarded devotion. A man who had fallen for you utterly, who would move mountains or burn the world just to catch your smile.

You rolled your eyes, trying to deflect any suspicion that he was right and you truly had forgotten what it was to share a bed with your husband. But your nervous smile, the frantic beating of your heart betrayed you completely.

"I see," your husband said, with deliberate clarity.

His lips met yours in a tender, languid kiss. Palms cradled your face, rough and warm, thumbs stroking your cheekbones with unhurried reverence. The heat of his mouth settled on yours in a hungry, patient, full of all the longing kiss he had carried across the miles. You exhaled sharply through your nose, and he deepened the kiss, working on your lower lip, sliding his tongue inside with a slow, warm exploration that made your head swirl. You found your arms wrapping around the back of his neck, pressing him closer, craving more. Your cheeks flushed hot, your breath came short and ragged. It was only a kiss, one you had shared a hundred times before. Yet somehow, this one undid you entirely.

With visible effort, Cregan pulled back, just far enough to look at you. Cregan always wanted to look at you, your face was a miracle he could not explain, a mystery that stole his breath every time. His heart hammered as wildly as yours, his pupils blown wide, and in that very moment he looked less like the Lord of Winterfell and more like some adoring, awestruck pup.

He kissed you again, soft and brief. "You are so beautiful," the man murmured, and there was a tender sadness in his voice. "It almost grieves me that such loveliness must dwell in the cold North, tucked away behind these stone walls." He spoke with complete sincerity; soon after the Northman pressed another kiss to your lips, your jaw, the tender spot behind your ear, drawing out a fresh wave of goosebumps. You sighed, surrendering to his gentle ministrations.

He was here. Real, solid, warm — flesh and blood.

His kisses grew bolder, his open mouth trailing down your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones. Back up again.

Husband's large hands slid beneath your shift. You flinched, more violently than before, at the wave of warmth that washed over your body. Cregan's hands had always been warm, almost scalding. And he himself always seemed to burn with fire. He often complained that your chambers were too stifling, and so he would throw open the windows. Yet watching you burrow deeper into the furs with each passing night, he would think that he could endure the heat, if only his sweet little wife might sleep in comfort.

His palms traced the curve of your ribs, the dip of your waist. His eyes gleamed with something ravenous.

He hitched up the hem of your nightdress, baring you with immodest recklessness. Your gaze darted away, your lashes fluttering in a frantic beat.

His lips descended upon your tender skin, a new expanse he had yet to explore that morning in your lovemaking. The Northman was gentle, but unbearably impatient, as his mouth traveled lower, from your ribs down to your navel. His breath seared your flesh, and through your mind raced the thought: how could a man so cold harbour such fire within? You arched into those utterly honest kisses. If only you knew that Cregan had cultivated and nourished these feelings solely because of you. Because of you and your nature, which captivated him more with each passing day, with a force that was nothing short of staggering.

Cregan hooked your leg, lifting it onto his shoulder. You shuddered entirely, drawing inward, as though he were committing some forbidden act, some transgression against the honourable nature of the Starks. And yet it was nothing of the sort of an acknowledgment. An acknowledgment of a husband's surrender to his wife.

With kisses, he descended upon your thigh, and his breath raised an extraordinary host of goosebumps across your skin. Your lips parted, and from your mouth escaped an involuntary sigh, impatient and utterly inviting.

He found your pussy and covered it with open-mouthed, wet kisses. He did it with such fervent hunger, as though he had dreamed of nothing else during all those days he had spent at the Wall. He worshipped you as if he could think of no other thing in the world but your slick, aching cunt. And that was the plainest truth. He licked and sucked at your folds, feasting in that very moment. He needed no grand banquets thrown in his honour — leave him his wife with her legs spread wide in his chambers, and that would be the truest feast for the Lord of Winterfell.

You arched your back and moaned so lewdly that you would later feel the burning shame of it, utterly and without question.

Cregan, meanwhile, was drinking you in, savouring every last drop of you.

Your fingers sank into your husband's hair with a newfound fervour, pressing him closer still. Cregan smiled against your skin, and his tongue began tracing ever more intricate patterns upon your swollen, aching nub with renewed diligence. His thumb stroked your thigh in a slow, steady rhythm, as though encouraging you. What further encouragement could you possibly need, when his mouth was working so ardently between your legs, delivering such immeasurable pleasure and setting sparks alight behind your eyes?

You gasped and panted, your breath hitching with each flick of his tongue. "Cregan!" you pleaded, your eyes snapping upward in a silent, desperate prayer to the heavens.

In response, your husband merely hummed against you, drawing out your rapture with merciless precision. You trembled violently, and with a loud, broken moan, you shattered beneath him.

Cregan pulled back from you, wiping your wetness from his face with the back of his hand. He looked more than satisfied with his morning mischief. The formidable man offered you a tender smile, then pressed a kiss to your forehead, achingly gentle, impossibly soft.

He held your gaze, his palm coming to rest against your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin in a slow caress. "I believe I must take my leave now, my lady," he uttered, his voice low and measured. "Else my wayward lords will have wrought some folly in my absence."

The man disentangled himself from the furs and rose from the bed with an effortless motion, shrugging into his robe. He dressed with soldierly swiftness, for that was precisely what he was. And then he left you, alone with your thoughts.

You lay there, flushed to the very roots of your hair, as the heavy door thudded shut, stirring a faint breeze across your heated skin. You bit your lip, still half-disbelieving of what had transpired only moments ago. A quiet giggle escaped you at the thought, and you burrowed yourself up to your nose beneath the blanket. Your smile lingered on your lips for a long, long while after.