The runaway bride | Cregan Stark

Chapter 4

It had been afternoon when Cregan had found Dealla and they hadn't been travelling long before they came to a halt again. It had been maybe an hour or two and Winterfell was nowhere in sight. Cregan had decided to stop in the middle of the forest. "Why are we stopping?" asked Dealla, looking around in confusion. She hadn't uttered a word in the last few hours and had even been on the verge of falling asleep a few times. Her body had used up all its energy.

"We're spending the night here," Cregan said as he and his two friends climbed down from their horses. "But it's still light." They had perhaps two hours before the sun would set. "I'm aware of that, Princess," Cregan replied as he took Dealla by the waist and lifted her off his horse. One of his companions, Aric, reached for his bow and arrows, while Jensen also looked as if he was about to set off. Dealla watched before fingers gripped her chin and turned her head back in Cregan's direction.

"Tell me, princess. When was the last time you ate?" Cregan asked, letting Dealla stumble out of his arms. She could still feel his hands on her despite the newfound distance. Cregan seemed to take in everything around her. "I killed a rabbit for nothing because of you. His death is your fault," she replied without answering his question properly. Princess Dealla had to think for herself when she had last eaten properly. It felt like an eternity, but she didn't want to admit that to Cregan.

"Shame on you, Cregan the rabbit killer," Jensen chuckled, having overheard the conversation quietly, at least until Aric pulled him away, shaking his head and dragging him further into the forest. Dealla looked after them again. They left her alone with Cregan. If she could distract him somehow, then what? Her hands were tied and she didn't even know exactly where she was. "Come here," Cregan said and Dealla shook her head, only then looking back at him. Only then did she notice the water bottle in his hand. He had pulled it out of one of his saddlebags. Dealla's throat was raw and she didn't move away when Cregan took a step towards her instead of waiting for her to do it.

"Untie my hands-"

"No," Cregan's voice left no room for discussion as he grabbed her chin again and carefully tilted her head back a little before bringing the water bottle to her lips. Dealla's violet eyes found his grey ones and her heart began to beat faster once more. "You need to part those lips of yours, princess," Cregan murmured as his thumb stroked her jaw. Cregan didn't mind taking every opportunity he could to touch her, sometimes for longer than was necessary. Dealla opened her mouth and closed her eyes at the same time, unable to hold Cregan's gaze any longer. The water was cold in her mouth and one cautious sip turned into several larger ones. Her thirst never ended, at least until she heard Cregan chuckling lightly to himself.

"Careful, don't choke," he murmured, wiping a few stray drops of water from her chin, his fingers brushing lightly against the underside of her lower lip. Dealla's eyes flew open and she took a step away from him. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she couldn't find it in herself to look at him. She'd gone a whole year without human touch and even before that at King's Landing, no one had touched her the way Cregan had in the last few hours.

"We're not on the horse, you don't have to keep touching me," Dealla finally mumbled without turning her head in Cregan's direction. The tree to his left seemed more interesting than the man in front of her. Or at least the tree didn't have the ability to look at her in a way that made her all awkward and bothered. Cregan looked at the princess in front of him. She didn't look a bit like a princess in these woods. The only thing that made her look sort of Targaryen were her violet eyes, everything else screamed wilderness and forest of the north.

"Why were you in the forests of the north?" Cregan asked instead of responding to the princess's words. He had least expected to find her in a forest. Alone and with a bow and arrow. She was unpredictable, like a sudden torrent that turned everything upside down. Dealla Targaryen was a storm, free and untameable. Even as she stood before him now with her hands bound and her eyes looking everywhere but at him, she was still not his and no one other's, something you could look at but never bind to yourself.