ㅤㅤ

⠀⠀ ᅠᅠ https://t.co/iWCdhe8g9E ᅠᅠᅠᅠ𝒍͟𝒊͟𝒌͟𝒆 for 𝚊 short interaction ᅠᅠᅠᅠ𝐫𝐭 to 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 the word 𓂃 ᅠᅠᅠᅠ─┈ throughout 𝖜esteros ⠀、 ⠀⠀

— ◜𓊝◞ LUCERYS VELARYON of DRAGONSTONE. Heir to Driftmark. 2nd son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen ＋ Lord Leanor Velaryon. Survived SHIPBREAKER BAY. Suffers AMNESIA. Nearly drowned after FALLING from Arrax. Sails with Velaryon FLEET. 21ᐩ, banter ↻ ＋♡

❛ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞. ❜ ↻ & ♡

⠀⠀ ﹒✱ * ┄ ───── @thwolfang ⠀⠀

ㅤ His gaze rose to meet Jace’s again, something softer, almost confessional in the depths. ㅤ“ᅠBut if you ask what I would choose…ᅠ”ᅠA silence followed, thick as drifted snow.ㅤ“ᅠI choose the ground. The ground does not try to eat me.ᅠ”ᅠ ㅤ

ㅤ Fingers, roughened by the cold, brushed the edge of the prince’s cloak to settle it better — an instinctive, protective gesture, almost intimate without meaning to be. ㅤ“ᅠIf you wish to fly, then we will fly. Even if he looks at me as though I’m meant to be hunted.ᅠ”ᅠ ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ“ᅠI do not fear dragons.ᅠ”ᅠ He stepped forward, steady, decisive. Another step. Until the space between them narrowed to a thin cloud of shared frost in the air. ㅤ“ᅠBut dragons seldom return the courtesy. Your dragon, least of all.ᅠ”ᅠ ㅤ

ㅤ His eyes swept over Jace, not with desire, but with the kind of scrutiny that cuts through cloak, flesh, and pride. He held him there for a long moment. Too long to be mere courtesy. A short breath escaped him, almost a laugh that died before forming. ㅤ

ㅤ Vermax. The beast that looked at him as if recognizing a challenge he never meant to give. Then came the prince’s taunt, Cregan turned his head back to him slowly. ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ“ᅠWe won’t travel far. Only to the wolfswood. There are things you must see… not as a prince, but as a guest.ᅠ”ᅠ The suggestion of flying halted his step. His shoulders tightened, a small shift, almost invisible — but real. ㅤ

ㅤ When Jace spoke of dragons and heat, Cregan looked toward Winterfell’s gates, the wind tugging at his dark hair, plastering strands against his brow as though the North itself refused to release him. At last he answered, voice deep and measured: ㅤ

ㅤ Then he lifted one brow, barely. ㅤ“ᅠIf you truly felt nothing, your face would betray you, my prince. You’d cry out before admitting it.ᅠ” The words fell like winter snow: cold, but never unkind. ㅤ

ㅤ Cregan did not answer at once. Instead, he turned toward Jace with that heavy stillness only northerners possess, a silence that seems to weigh the world before granting a single word. His gaze traced the prince’s fingers, his posture, the faint tremor he tried to hide. ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 〝 𝓨OU SAY 𝓨𝗢𝗨 𝓦ANT TO 𝗗͟𝗜͟𝗘 FOR 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 BUT 𝓨𝗢𝗨 KNOW 𝗡͟𝗢͟𝗧͟𝗛͟𝗜͟𝗡͟𝗚 ABOUT 𝘿𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 AND 𝓨𝗢𝗨 KNOW 𝗡͟𝗢͟𝗧͟𝗛͟𝗜͟𝗡͟𝗚 ABOUT ℒ𝙊͟𝙑͟𝙀 . . 〞

⠀ ⠀ ❛ 𝒾 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝘰𝘧 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙮. ⠀ ⠀

ㅤ with restrained concern. ㅤ“ᅠIf you’ve lost all feeling, you should tell me sooner, my princeᅠ” A look into Jace's eyesㅤ“ᅠI will not have the heir of Dragonstone losing his fingers in my land.ᅠ” ㅤ

ㅤ He settled the cloak over Jace’s shoulders with firm, deliberate hands, then adjusted the prince’s numb fingers beneath the fabric. ㅤ“ᅠKeep your fingers close. The cold bites less when one stops fearing it.ᅠ” A brief pause followed, his gaze steady and edged ㅤ

ㅤ Cregan allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile at the prince’s words. ㅤ“ᅠThe warmth of the South softens a man’s blood,ᅠ” he said quietly, more a northern truth than a jest. ㅤ

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