Dragon Dreamer 🗡 Cregan Stark fic

Chapter Six

I have fourteen currently posted on my tumblr, plus many reader asks that I reply to in order to go more in depth. Should I post those ask replies here? the chapters take a while to put on this app so I apologize for the long breaks between. ty for the favorites, I appreciate it 🩷 Please comment on your thoughts I'd love to see them!

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With the fourth day come and gone with no ground behind them, the little party wasted no time in packing up their belongings and trudging on once again.

Daenys was awoken from a dreamless sleep by a suffocating feeling. She was jerked awake by her own breathlessness, opening her eyes to be met with the brown fur of Dusk, who had grown impaitient with her sleeping in and made her chest his one personal bed. "Off, boy." She grunted, wheezing at the weight. She swore he could rival Morningstar in weight alone.

Cregan, at the opening of the tent and pack over his shoulder, snickered at the sight. He clicked his tongue twice, shooing the direwolf away. He leaned over Daenys, who was rubbing her eyes. Her hair lay around her in long, unruly waves, surely something that her handmaiden back in Dragonstone would have scolded her for. She usually slept in a loose braid but had forgotten her nightly routine in favor of passing out cold.

"Morning, Princess." Cregan greeted softly, watching her groggily wake herself up. He had been ready and packed long-ago, wanting to let Daenys sleep in and not worry about packing her belongings, most of which were tied to Mylo's saddle.

"Good morning," she mumbled back, stretching out under the furs. The scent of him lingered pleasently. She sat up slowly, the cold of the North making her body ache in the mornings more than it ever did in the South.

Daenys' hair fell around her shoulders and back, nearly to her waist. She cursed the fact that she'd have to spend another morning doing the entire thing all by herself, knowing her arms would be aching before she could even mount her horse. Just when she was contemplating chopping it all off, Cregan offered–"Would you like my help with...all that?" The offer was polite, not wanting to push any boundaries that might make the Princess shy away.

A man doing hair? That was almost laughable. If Daemon made the same offer to Rhaenyra, the whole family would be squaking with amused chuckles, knowing he had no clue how to do something as gentle as that. Perhaps that was why he chopped off his own long locks—or so Daenys heard.

"My hair?" Daenys questioned, looking up to him. He nodded, and she took a moment to think. How did he know how to braid? Briefly, she wondered if he had ever courted someone, perhaps in his youth before he was busy in his lordship.

"My sister, she insisted that I learn by practicing on her. Said it would help with my 'husbandly' responsibilities, whatever that means." They both laughed, while she guiltily felt a sense of relief. She rummaged through her bag briefly, searching for her wooden brush.

"Hm, I would have thought you might have a secret Lady Wife hidden away in Winterfell." Daenys mused, turning her back to him and sitting up straight. He sat behind her, taking the brush she had handed him in a big hand. Their hands touched for a moment, his bare hand making contact with hers for her first time. It was warm, though calloused from years of swordtraining, opposite of her own perfectly manicured ones. Had he taken off his gloves for this? It would be easier, she thought.

"Who's to say I don't? And perhaps a few heirs are already running about, playing as squires." When she glanced behind her, brow raised, he only chuckled and guided her head to turn back.

"I jest, of course. If I had a wife, she would be no secret." He said, grabbing small portions of her hair at a time, brushing from ends to scalp. The white mess quickly became calm waves once more with his handywork. Cregan paused a moment, "what braids would you like?"