Sweet obedience

Chapter Four

When Rhaella arrived to the Throne Room, she froze in her steps.
There was a huge party of men, crowding the hall and spilling out into the courtyard outside, all wearing thick black and grey furs, and sporting heads of thick, dark hair.
They stood around the hall, talking and laughing with such deep, commanding voices that she was surprised she hadn't heard them from the royal Sept.
They had clearly come in their masses, anticipating the tourney that was to be held in a few days time.
Rhaella fixed her hair and her dress, wishing she was wearing something slightly more modest. If she had know Cregan Stark was to arrive today, she would have dressed for the occasion, perhaps worn something dark, covered up her body in the way that Northern ladies did.
But she were a Velaryon Princess, if the Warden of the North wanted another Northern wife, he would've taken one.
Rhaella took her skirt in her hand, and made her way through the hall, her eyes set on the throne.
If Cregan were looking for her, she would ensure he found her.
She stepped up to the base of the Throne, before turning around and scanning her eyes over the crowd. Most of the men looked the same, not like what she had heard of the Lord of Winterfell.
She would be disappointed if he were nothing like his reputation, she had been looking forward to meeting him.
Her ladies spotted her from across the room, but it looked as if they were pinned in place by a group of admirers. She was not all that bothered, from their conversation earlier they seemed like the type to enjoy such attention from men. She doubted they needed saving.
"Princess Rhaella." A deep, husky voice spoke in her direction.
She turned her head down the few steps, and much to her surprise she barely had to lower her gaze at all. This stranger was tall.
When she saw his face, she realised not only was he tall, he was handsome. He stood with a rugged sexiness, his dark hair curly and soft, his beard nearly trimmed but still thick, and his shoulders were unbelievably broad.
The rumours did him no justice. She parted her lips to speak; but found herself lost in the icy blue of his eyes, and the way he stared at her with pure intent.
"Lord Stark." She smiled, realising how tiny she were in comparison to the Northman. He looked as if he could pick her up with one hand, one very large hand.
A few indecent thoughts raced through her mind, which she quickly banished with a silent prayer. "I did not expect you so soon."
"We rode through the nights, I hoped to have a few days to rest before the tourney."
"Oh." She stated, her lips parted in an o shape.
"At least that is what I told my men." He added quickly, looking at her as if he were about to share a secret, "I would not presume to think that I am entitled to your time, but I would be grateful for it my Princess."
She blushed slightly, "I was sad to hear about your late wife." She meant it, she knew the pains of one losing their mother on the birthing bed, Rhaenyra had always carried that pain: it was truly a gruesome affair. "But I am glad you are here my Lord."
Cregan nodded graciously, it had been a while since his late wife's passing, and it was not a secret that he were actively looking for a new wife. "I am glad too."
They shared a moment, and it felt as if they had known each other for a long while. There was an understanding, a mutual respect between the two.
"Have you visited the Godswood since you arrived?" She remembered her studies, remembered how the North worshipped the old gods and that it was tradition to pay their respects. 
"I have not, I came straight here, in the hope that I would see you." Cregan stated, "But I'll admit I lost hope when your ladies told me they had not seen you."
"I was praying in the sept." Rhaella clarified, she didn't need to sound as if she had been off gallivanting. "My uncle was kind enough to let me know that they were looking for me, but forgot to mentioned your arrival. So if you'll please excuse my state of dress-"
"You look beautiful," Cregan interrupted her, not the done thing when speaking to a Princess, but she let that slip. "I would not change a thing."
"You are too kind." The way he held her gaze was dizzying, "I would be happy to show you to the godswood, if you would like?"
"Only if you can spare the time, I am sure there are many other of your subjects waiting to meet you."
"We have barely had a chance to talk, that doesn't seem fair," she smiled.
"What would you like to talk about?" He held out his hand, and she took it more than happily, holding onto him as she stepped down the few steps until she were at his side.
Rhaella looked up to him, eyes wide and hopeful, "you have a son? Rickon?"
"Yes, named after my father. He is just approaching his first name day."
"I will make to sure to send him a gift: I have four younger brothers, so I am quite familiar with the various interests of young lords. Perhaps I can give it to you on your return to winterfell?"
Cregan looked down at her, with a slight smile across his stern but gorgeous face, "maybe you can bring it yourself. Have you ever visited the North?"
"I'm afraid the furthest north I have ventured is the twins," she recalled the brief visit a few years ago, and how dreary she had found both the castle and the people.
"I am not one to judge, I have never been south of kings landing, never been west of the Trident."
"So I have never been to Winterfell, and you have never been to Dragonstone," she hummed as they walked through the crowd arm in arm, the men around them standing to attention and observing the handsome couple.
If there were two people who looked as if they were born to rule, it were Rhaella Velaryon and Cregan Stark. They would be formidable together, and everyone in the throne room looked at them and saw a hundred years of power flash before their eyes.
"Perhaps we need to change that," he stated, "how long does it take to sail to Dragonstone."
"A few days," she purred, "but only a couple of hours on dragon back."
Cregan chuckled, "I will take your word for it."
"Viseria is well disciplined, she never once tried to throw me off when I first tried to mount her; although if I said she doesn't bite, that would be a lie." Rhaella teased, and he laughed.
They walked out of the hall, Cregan parting the way for her as a gentleman would, and she suddenly realised she felt safe around him, and she hadn't felt like that since she had arrived in Kings Landing.
"You're funny," Cregan replied, "I didn't expect you to be funny."
She hadn't expected to make jokes either, admittedly bad ones but still, she was unusually comfortable around the Northman. "I didn't expect you to be so... friendly." She retorted, her surprise apparent in her voice.
"You'd heard of how I imprisoned my Uncle?" Cregan assumed.
"Yes," Rhaella nodded, remembering the story well, "but Uncle's can be... challenging." She thought of Aemond briefly, before pushing him from her mind.
Cregan raised an eyebrow, as if to say care to explain. But she knew she couldn't, she couldn't tell anyone, not even her own mother- if she told Rhaenyra, then Daemon would certainly find out, and she wasn't so sure that he wouldn't feed Aemond to Caraxes.
Rhaella continued, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin once again as they walked through the courtyard and across the portcullis to the Godswood, "will you be competing in the tourney yourself?" She asked innocently.
"I may be a competent swordsman, but I have no interest in jousting."
"You won't be asking for my favour then," she couldn't hide her disappointment, despite the archaic tradition irking her, she had been quite sure that it was Lord Stark who was going to receive it.
"You might yet make a jouster out of me if you carry on like that." He teased playfully, "perhaps I can join your side instead?"
She nodded, "now that is a marvellous idea. As long as his grace King Viserys approves."
They both knew he would, not only did he relish in seeing his granddaughter happy, an alliance between the North and his family would be one for the history books. It would lead to an entirely new era of Targaryen power.
"I will request it myself," Cregan stated, his confidence undeniably attractive, "I am to meet with his grace on the morrow."
Rhaella fast raced, she were almost certain of what Lord Stark were going to ask him, and she could feel her answer on the tip of her tongue. "If it would please you." She stated, looking up the the gentle giant.
"It would please me very much my Princess."
Rhaella beamed, her cheeks flushing a perfect peach, in the way she had trained herself to. They arrived outside the entrance to the Godswood. "I would leave you here my Lord."
"Please, stay." He placed a hand on her forearm, his touch soft and tempting.
"I fear your Gods have no love for me," she had always worshiped the seven, as did the entire of her family, she had truly never spent much time in the Godswood, other than to admire the beauty in the old red tree.
"I must admit, prayers won't be the first thing on my mind. You are quite a distraction." He flirted shamelessly.
"Oh," she replied softly, as his touch lingered on her arm, "well, I promise that was not my intention." She flirted back, knowing that there were no one else around who could hear her.
In fact, the Godswood was eerily quiet, as if they were the only two people in the entire Keep.
"I wouldn't mind if it were." Cregan added, leading her into the courtyard. The great Weirwood tree growing strong out of the green ground. The white bark glistening in the sun, and the red leaves blowing gently in the summer breeze.
She had always felt like a stranger there, but when Cregan looked down upon her with those deep brown eyes, she didn't care all that much.
She knew she shouldn't feel the way he was making her feel, with his eyes, his body, his demeanour: Rhaella knew she should be thinking logically, but mother above was he making it goddamn difficult.