[ A promise made is a promise keptโthey part ways in the evening only to reconvene the next still and clear morning. A common occurrence, or on its way to becoming one, many daysโmost daysโspent in each other's company to some degree, driven here and there by making introductions, or appropriate courtesies, or more laid-back entertainments in the times between.
Their ride out sits somewhere between the last and cautious intrigue borne from his first brush hosting a dragonrider and all it entails. It's one thing to have learned about King's Landing through his father, a place where dragon cries raining down from the clouds is a given, to hear Jacaerys' dragon at a distance, occasionally breaking up wolfsong outside the keep's walls with trilling draconic notes.
It's another, quite another, to stop the horses and the soon-to-be meal in the grass a ways from the rocky cavern leading deep into the steaming bowels of the earth and witness the prince greet his dragon in flowing Valyrian, close at hand for the halfway familiar smell of ash and brimstone to hit his nose, sharp like the most earthy, pungent hot spring but different, too. Being in their presence is invitation to a singular, special kind of moment, he realizes, pulling his eyes from Jace's gladsome expression to the powerfully built creature. An opal of rolling fire comes to mindโa sheen of shifting greens and oranges atop scale and claw and muscle. Comparatively Vermax is small, he understands, still building up to his full size and might next to what his ancestor must have seen of the Black Dread.
Yetโhowever and wherever dragons first originated in history's misty memory, it's not so surprising to see why Valyrians would turn to veneration, being near one. Cregan had been raised to respect the wild and untamed things in the places men were careful to tread, as all things similar in the North. Here is a wild thing, an untameable thing, belonging to the indomitable beauty of predators.
Still watching, still fascinated, as the green dragon finally slinks out of sight inside the cave dragging the goat's carcass behind: ] He's impressive in his way.
[ And he's grateful, in the aftermath, to have been allowedโand dared to step close toโthe sight.
That is how it comes to be he leads another dragon to the warmth of another hot spring, though this one he enters along with, trekking down stairs beneath Winterfell itself. Not so deep as Winterfell's crypts, deeper and more vast still, but down until the man-made symmetry of carved castle stone begins to give way to natural, untouched rock. Places the builders had built around, or above, or subservient to the land, such as this. Even so, there are signs belonging to the passage of many hands over many hundreds and thousands of yearsโlit torches in sconces rim the cavernous pool, casting dappling, dancing shadows on the water's surface, the rock spring's edges worn smooth from long use. Neatly folded stacks of towels for drying and changes of clothes wait, along with wine, honey soap, and a basin of clean water for rinsing.
The other has eyes for one comfort above all, swiftly discarding clothing as he goes. A hum of some amusement from Cregan at the prince encountering a facet to Winterfell that genuinely pleases him is lost to the swish of feet parting water, accompanying the prince's enthusiastic descent into the hot springs.
Slower, a step behind as he had been in meeting Vermax, he has the time and view to watch the prince do soโslim and fair-skinned wreathed in steam, exchanging the last stitch of clothing for a purring pleasure. ]
You do like it hot, don't you. Does it suit? [ Thick-soled boots make a heavy tread on stone in the quiet posed by just the two of them and the lapping water. He bends to release the laces. ]
( Jacaerys waits for Cregan to reveal more of himself. It is said that Northmen are sturdy, are more beasts than men. Yet no matter what is revealed, the crown prince knows that he is eager to see more of pale skin and what hides underneath Cregan's cloaks.
It is not as if he has not seen him in various states of dress, without the cloaks and in but one layer in front of the hearth. Yet there is much left to the imagination still and Jace's has run hot as the blood within his veins. He finds himself wishing to hoard the site, as Vermax had hoarded the meal they'd offered him. He has drifted off in thought when he hears the timber of Cregan's voice, the northern drawl with which he speaks. ) Hm?
( And then he is glad that the steam rising from the pool gives him a flush. One he hopes the lord before him will dismiss. It takes a moment to remember himself. ) I am quite pleased.
Though, do not fret. I will not forsake the rooms you've given me for this place. ( Jacaerys glances around the cavern, though his gaze does drift back to his host. And when he speaks it is in teasing tones, ) Will it not be too hot for you?
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Date: 2025-07-11 03:29 am (UTC)Their ride out sits somewhere between the last and cautious intrigue borne from his first brush hosting a dragonrider and all it entails. It's one thing to have learned about King's Landing through his father, a place where dragon cries raining down from the clouds is a given, to hear Jacaerys' dragon at a distance, occasionally breaking up wolfsong outside the keep's walls with trilling draconic notes.
It's another, quite another, to stop the horses and the soon-to-be meal in the grass a ways from the rocky cavern leading deep into the steaming bowels of the earth and witness the prince greet his dragon in flowing Valyrian, close at hand for the halfway familiar smell of ash and brimstone to hit his nose, sharp like the most earthy, pungent hot spring but different, too. Being in their presence is invitation to a singular, special kind of moment, he realizes, pulling his eyes from Jace's gladsome expression to the powerfully built creature. An opal of rolling fire comes to mindโa sheen of shifting greens and oranges atop scale and claw and muscle. Comparatively Vermax is small, he understands, still building up to his full size and might next to what his ancestor must have seen of the Black Dread.
Yetโhowever and wherever dragons first originated in history's misty memory, it's not so surprising to see why Valyrians would turn to veneration, being near one. Cregan had been raised to respect the wild and untamed things in the places men were careful to tread, as all things similar in the North. Here is a wild thing, an untameable thing, belonging to the indomitable beauty of predators.
Still watching, still fascinated, as the green dragon finally slinks out of sight inside the cave dragging the goat's carcass behind: ] He's impressive in his way.
[ And he's grateful, in the aftermath, to have been allowedโand dared to step close toโthe sight.
That is how it comes to be he leads another dragon to the warmth of another hot spring, though this one he enters along with, trekking down stairs beneath Winterfell itself. Not so deep as Winterfell's crypts, deeper and more vast still, but down until the man-made symmetry of carved castle stone begins to give way to natural, untouched rock. Places the builders had built around, or above, or subservient to the land, such as this. Even so, there are signs belonging to the passage of many hands over many hundreds and thousands of yearsโlit torches in sconces rim the cavernous pool, casting dappling, dancing shadows on the water's surface, the rock spring's edges worn smooth from long use. Neatly folded stacks of towels for drying and changes of clothes wait, along with wine, honey soap, and a basin of clean water for rinsing.
The other has eyes for one comfort above all, swiftly discarding clothing as he goes. A hum of some amusement from Cregan at the prince encountering a facet to Winterfell that genuinely pleases him is lost to the swish of feet parting water, accompanying the prince's enthusiastic descent into the hot springs.
Slower, a step behind as he had been in meeting Vermax, he has the time and view to watch the prince do soโslim and fair-skinned wreathed in steam, exchanging the last stitch of clothing for a purring pleasure. ]
You do like it hot, don't you. Does it suit? [ Thick-soled boots make a heavy tread on stone in the quiet posed by just the two of them and the lapping water. He bends to release the laces. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-07-28 02:23 am (UTC)It is not as if he has not seen him in various states of dress, without the cloaks and in but one layer in front of the hearth. Yet there is much left to the imagination still and Jace's has run hot as the blood within his veins. He finds himself wishing to hoard the site, as Vermax had hoarded the meal they'd offered him. He has drifted off in thought when he hears the timber of Cregan's voice, the northern drawl with which he speaks. ) Hm?
( And then he is glad that the steam rising from the pool gives him a flush. One he hopes the lord before him will dismiss. It takes a moment to remember himself. ) I am quite pleased.
Though, do not fret. I will not forsake the rooms you've given me for this place. ( Jacaerys glances around the cavern, though his gaze does drift back to his host. And when he speaks it is in teasing tones, ) Will it not be too hot for you?