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— [Y/N] sat under the Weirwood, reading some book she had found in her Septas room. One of her many hobbies; hiding for said Septa.
Her voice just gave [Y/N] headaches. It was scratchy, though high-pitched when Cregan visited – [Y/N] believed it was because the old lady had taking a fond liking on him, as if she didn't raise him...
In this particular book, it was about a young boy, speaking out about his family mistreating him and going off and marrying the love of his life, and having multiple, multiple, children.
Ethon, in all his glory, laid against her. His soft breathing indicating he was sound asleep in his own dreamland. His grey and black fur contrasted against the snowy ground that the Godwoods owned.
Her Stark brown hair was out of whatever hairstyle her handmaiden had done - probably thinking that Cregan was still trying to impress the young Velaryon.
Instead of impressing the boy, Cregan has taking the boy out to drinks, many o' feasts, and, rumored around, brothels.
[Y/N] didn't want Rickon to be raised around a father, one similar to her own. She wanted the best for her nephew, and was thinking Cregan was doing a good job by himself without the help of a Lady Wife.
But the way he was out, stupidly, and childishly, all the time, didn't seem to look like a good job.
Which was why she was shocked to see her brother standing in front of her.
"Thought I'd meet you here," He sighs, before sitting on [Y/N]'s other side.
She kept her mouth shut, knowing if she spilt one word, it'd all come spilling out.
"What book have you stolen now, dear sister?"
No reply, just a simple movement to show him the cover of the book.
Cregan lightly chuckles. "I remember father reading that to me."
She never got those good memories of their father. She remembers the terrible memories, ones a child should never remember, or witness.
"Speak to me, girl. What's the matter?"
Here it came.
"You. You're the matter." She turned her head, standing her ground.
His dark eyebrows scrunched up, like a child. "What on the Seven do you mean, girl?"
"You, going out, all the fucking time, leaving Rickon with women he doesn't like, without his father."
Cregan laughs at her. Laughs.
"Stupid girl. The boy is fine. He's aware I have a guest and is trying to be respectful towards Jacaerys, unlike you, prancing about with your stupid wolf!"
"He is but a child, Cregan!" [Y/N] exclaims.
Cregan gets up, looking away from her, rubbing his furrowed brow, laughing at her like she was somesort of pathetic peasant.
"He's grand. He has the Septas. For fuck sake, [Y/N]. You're not his father!"
Y/N stood up, next. "And if you keep leaving him behind, he won't have many words to tell his children about you."
Cregan's grey eyes turned, striking her like a thunderstorm. He stood, shaking his head.
"My son will remember me as a man who helped Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen gain back her Throne."
"Is that all?"
"You're treading on thin ice here, [Y/N]. One more word about my fathering, and I won't hesitate-"
[Y/N] throws her book beside Ethon, startling the poor Direwolf.
"What memories do you have of our own father. The man who you're following the footsteps of, Cregan. What memories do you have of him coming home, drunk, with whores everywhere. What memories?!"
As she let out a final scream, Cregans hand had finally hit her, throwing her back, onto the dirt.
"That's enough, girl. I won't have you standing there as if you have any right to the North after me. What memories will the heir to the North of poor aunt [Y/N], oh aye, a crying bitch, who did nothing but moan and complain about just walking,"
Cregan spoke with so much authority, it made his little sister want to curl into herself.
"All he'll, and the North remember, is that [Y/N] Stark was a lazy bitch, who thought she knew everything, when all she does is sit around and expect to earn respect from the North."
Cregan leaned back up, not an ounce of guilt or remorse in those dark eyes. Just dilated pupils, matted hair, and mouth snared up like their House Sigil.
He gave her one more sigh before walking back up through the trees.
[Y/N] was left in her own shook. No tears, just pure shook. She looked towards Ethon, who in that moment looked like he was a puppy again.
His hazel eyes looked at her, shameful, as if it were him who hit her. As if he morphed into Cregan Stark and spat those words at her.
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It was nearing nightfall before [Y/N] had made it back inside. The left side of her face felt like it was fire. Her jaw felt broken. Perhaps people weren't joking when they said Cregan was the strongest Stark alive yet.
Ethon was back in his cage, with a kiss on his head, like always, he was locked up once more for the night. She could hear his cries and whines to get out, something he had never done before.
She sighs and she tries to avoid the room where her brother, and Jacaerys, sat.
She was nearing her freedom to her chamber, when she heard that dreading voice.
"Lady Stark!" Jacaerys seemed cheerful.
"Yes, Prince?"
"My dragon is feeling better. Would you like to finally come and meet him?" Jacaerys moved closer behind her.
[Y/N] sighs. Her back still towards him. "I'm not feeling well, Prince Jacaerys, perhaps some other day."
"[Y/N]," His voice was merely a whisper. "What did I tell you about calling me Prince..?"
"Sorry, Jacaerys.."
"And it's not at all polite to face away from a heir.." His tone was obviously joking, she heard him on the stairs beside her, taking a step in front of her.
She looked him in the eyes. His brown eyes scanned her face. His mouth opened to speak, but to no avail, no words appear.
"[Y/N]," He whispered. "What happened.. Should I get Creg-?"
"No!" She spoke, and covered her mouth. She sighs. "Don't. He'll interrogate me, and as I said, I'm not feeling well." She laughs.
She went to step aside him, but he grapped her wrist.
Those eyes of his spoke so much and yet he was speechless.
"What happened, [Y/N]. Did someone do this to you?"
"Jacaerys, I'll speak to you tomorrow. I'm not feeling well." It was a suggestion to let her go and leave her be, it was an order.
And in a non-dragon manner, he listened to the wolf, letting her run and hide her tail between her legs, hiding from confrontation.
