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“His brother's mate always took him by surprise. No one expected Jace to go to Winterfell and return with a bloody mark on his neck and a mountain of a Stark stuck to his side, vowing never to part ways. His gray eyes could locate Jace in a crowd, and his keen senses were primed, ears always listening for his mate's call. Cregan’s typical attire consisted of bearskin cloaks and thick patterned gloves, handmade by other Starks.”- Lucerys Velaryon; Hunter’s Winter
The doorbell ringing sent Jacaerys Velaryon, dressed in a baggy t-shirt hanging off one shoulder and a pair of hole-ridden jeans, skidding towards the apartment's front room. His multicolored cotton socks made the trip twice as fast, easily sliding across the living room floor.
On the couch, Cregan looked up from his novel and shot him a look that said stop that before I make you stop.
“Pizza’s here,” Jace said as he came to a jarring halt, centimeters from smashing his nose against the cream-colored wall.
There was a small, easily missable dent in the plaster, right next to the key hook from when Jace had miscalculated his destination and caused a category two bloody nose on a Sunday at 9 pm.
As Jace turned to yell over his shoulder, “Can you bring me my wallet?”, a firm, hot-blooded body pressed against his back and wrenched open the door, expertly paying the pizza guy with cash and a tip that was definitely not from Jace’s wallet, taking the pizzas, and slamming the door shut.
“You paid last time!”
Cregan pressed a closed-mouth kiss to Jace’s bare shoulder and gave his bottom a smarting slap.
“And I’ll pay for the next as well, Jacaerys,” he crooned sweetly in the shorter boy's ear. “Remember your rules,” he reminded Jace for the hundredth time that month.
The rules were simple; Jace paid half the rent, Cregan paid for the other half, along with groceries and utilities… and outings and date nights and everything under the sun that fell within the confines of their relationship.
Those new sneakers that Jace looked at for too long, you know, the ones with the red stripe along the bottom? The ranch and sundried tomato chips imported from Dorne once a month at the shop twenty minutes away?
Cregan felt responsible if it cost money and wasn’t the five hundred dollars for half the rent.
For most people, Cregan and Jace’s relationship had moved too fast.
From a transfer student arriving in Winterfell for his final semester, to the treasured human belonging to one Cregan Stark, the alpha of the Winterfell pack, the largest in the North.
Reigning over a thousand wolves and hundreds of thousands of acres of land, Cregan’s job wasn’t easy. He asked for very little in life.
His Jacaerys was one he could not live without.
Everyone within a hundred miles knew how they fell in love; after a disastrous meeting in the pack house kitchen where Jace had thrown a wet sponge at the alpha’s head, accusing Cregan of deliberately trying to give him a heart attack.
Then, Cregan had slowly courted him with bearskin rugs and dried elk, trinkets and handmade blankets passed down from his great-grandmothers. Small, sweet things that Jace accepted graciously.
By the end of Jace’s semester, he’d ripped up his ticket home and stopped answering his mother's calls; a difficult choice but one that left him free to stay in Winterfell with Cregan.
For the most part, Jace ignored the hole in his chest previously filled by his mother’s bubbly laughter and Luke’s annoying prattling ways. Against all odds, Cregan had seeped into every lonely crevice within Jace.
“I didn’t make those up, you did.” Jace flipped the lock on the door and snagged the mail on his way back to the kitchen, sticking his tongue out mockingly at Cregan. “You’re a cruel leader.”
A playful growl rumbled in Cregan’s chest. “Aye, you think so lowly of me?” He grinned with full teeth, canines gleaming in the low kitchen light. A chill up Jace’s spine, his lashes fluttering as he kept his distance from the wolf's lustful gaze.
For every step he took back and around the square marble counter smack dab in the center of the kitchen, Cregan followed diligently, eyes burning with desire.
Every so often, his gaze darted towards the bare skin of Jace’s neck, ignoring the desperate cries from within to take, mate, and claim.
They were waiting for the right time.
Rickon Stark refused to allow his son to not plan a proper ceremony beneath the Weirwood Tree, followed by a celebration heard throughout the North. There needed to be invitations written and mailed, loads and loads of meals to be constructed, a venue, and outfits, too much for the Stark family to complete on short notice.
His family loved Jace as much as he did, and were he to break his vow, Rickon would have his head.
The most they could do were gentle touches and the occasional blowjob. Anything more would send Cregan’s wolf into a frenzy.
“I think,” Jace said, his words teasing and low, “that someone needs to stand up to you.”
His smirk quickly died into a yelp when Cregan used his ridiculous wolf speed to grab Jace and sprawl him across the counter, his brown curls fanned out like a slumbering princess.
Jace gasped and giggled, twisting and turning as Cregan smashed his stupidly large and broad fingers into his pits, poking and prodding his tender ribs—a saccharine smile overcoming the wolf's face as Jace squealed and laughed.
Moments like these were what Cregan cherished, away from blood and dead, treaties and pack duties, all of his attention dedicated to Jacaerys.
“S-stop i-i-t!” Jace choked on his laughter. “It’s n-not f-f-fair!”
Feeling weak to Jace’s pleading, Cregan stopped his attack, only to leisurely slip his fingers underneath Jace’s baggy top and draw shapes against his pale skin.
His fingertips danced mindlessly, intent on enjoying the closeness Jace was so carelessly offering, unwilling to pull away first.
Jace’s chest heaved, lying against the counter, heart racing in his chest, failing miserably at keeping in a dopey smile.
He snuck a glance at Cregan and dared not move, instead choosing to turn his head and gaze at the two pizza boxes, skimming his eyes across the spilled stack of letters.
Cregan suppressed a growl when Jace jerked up suddenly, a spike of fear twinging his scent.
“I know this handwriting,” blurted out Jace, holding a plain letter two inches from his nose.
Relatively expensive parchment with a stamp from King’s Landing on the top right corner.
Gods, Jace had seen it scrawled across report cards in primary school, signed on the bottom of checks written out to KLU, then WU, a messy set of letters belonging to the one wolf in the world that Jace didn’t really want to speak to for as long as he could. Ever again, really.
“It’s from my stepfather.” He flopped against the marble, splayed like a dead fish. “Daemon.”
If you offered Jace a bullet to the head or one minute alone with Daemon, he’d take the bullet.
If you offered him a massive, restaurant-sized pot of Sara’s famous spicy chili that nearly sent Gregor to the hospital, or call Daemon, he’d eat the chili and lick the bowl clean, even the burnt bits lining the pot.
The list was endless, tasks he’d do that meant avoiding Daemon, and he’d prayed to every God in the history books that they wouldn’t ever get Cregan’s address. Alas—
“I should like to meet him.”
Jace jerked back and gaped up at Cregan. “Why?” He stared at the wolf like he had three heads. “Have you ever met my stepfather? He’s mad!”
His ears took on a pinkish tint. “He used to scruff Luke and me like pups, dragging us through the street when we snuck out, and-and he’s as hard-headed as they come. You can’t talk an ounce of reasoning into him.”
“Sounds like someone I already know,” Cregan mused. He effortlessly dodged Jace’s swipe at his head, chuckling.
“You can’t meet him, I won’t allow it.” Jace crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, the alpha of Winterfell can’t just leave the pack unattended. They need you.”
“And I need you, Jacaerys,” Cregan said firmly. “When we mate beneath the Weirwood Tree, under the eyes of my kin, I should like your family to recognize our union.”
“Why does it matter?”
Cregan’s eyes softened. “You love them. I need no other reason.”
It was tough for Jace to tell Cregan no when he started to get mushy and sweet, knowing exactly what to say to get him to falter.
“They won’t like you,” Jace said. “I just know it. It won’t be enough that I do, not for Daemon or my mother. She’ll be happy that I’m happy, but deep down, she’ll know I’m making a mistake.” He reached out and caressed Cregan’s stubbled cheek. “You’re no mistake.”
Daemon’s letter was short and sweet; they assumed Jace had failed his last semester. That he was hiding with his tail between his legs and that it could go on no longer.
His stepfather, in very few words, demanded he come home at once so that Rhaenyra would stop threatening to fly there and bring her rebellious son home.
His little act was making Alicent’s children seem like saints.
That made Jace scoff.
Aegon was a pathetic drunk, Helaena deserved better than a pathetic drunk brother husband, and Aemond… was just insane. How Alicent had raised a gaggle of sad sycophants was beyond him, and he hoped Aemond hadn’t returned to wreak havoc on Luke.
His poor little brother, destined to be haunted by a one-eyed wolf with issues.
Last he’d heard, Aemond was traveling along the East.
At the very end, he saw his mother’s cursive handwriting.
Come home, sweetheart. We miss you.
Jace cursed and pressed the letter into Cregan’s hand, feeling overcome. He collapsed his upper half against the wolf’s chest, blinking back tears. Still, they fell like drops of rain down his cheeks. “Why are you always right?”
Cregan wiped away Jace’s tears and cupped his wet cheek. “One of us must be.”
They met with Rickon Stark the next day, a two-hour drive from their apartment, up in the hills of Winterfell where the land was blanketed with snow and rocks. Ancestral homes littered Winterfell, similar to Jace’s in King’s Landing. Cregan’s was more rustic and lived in, built to withstand a thousand or more winters—a fortress more than a home, with libraries housing century-old tales of Winterfell.
Rickon liked Jace, which came as a great relief to Jace.
They’d all broken bread together on various occasions, and on more than one, Gilliane, Rickon’s wife and mate, taught Jace how to skin animals and knit blankets. The two of them liked to gossip about Cregan.
She’d even pulled out baby photos of chubby little Cregan during his first full moon, with little fangs and chubby arms.
They knew that Jace came from a southern home and was a human born from a wolf mother, but paid it little mind.
A wolf could not choose their mate. That was the will of the Gods, one which could not be questioned.
Jace and Cregan sat across from Rickon and Gilliane in the dining hall, the older pair looking slightly unsettled.
“You want to go to the South? Of all the places, why would you go there?” She shot Jace a sheepish look. “Nothing against you, my dear, it’s just our Cregan has never ventured beyond the Northern border.”
“No sensible wolf would set foot in the South.” Rickon, too, gave Jace a meek shrug. “Nothing against you, lad.”
“For Jacaerys, I must go,” explained Cregan. “His stepfather demands he return home at once. I’ll not send him alone.”
Gilliane frowned. “Do you doubt his return, Cregan? Do not think so little of him.”
“It is not him I doubt, but his mother's will may be too much.”
Rickon slapped his knee and barked a laugh. “Always the mothers that bring the pups home.” He looked at Jace. “Would your mother’s love keep you from the North, boy?”
Cregan slipped his hand underneath the table onto Jace’s thigh and squeezed. “It is why I ask this of you, father. To not meet those cherished by Jacaerys, the ones who brought him to me, would be my greatest regret.”
“I am old, Cregan, and your pack may not listen to my words.”
“They will,” swore Cregan, “You were once their alpha. For a short time, you shall be again.”
Jace gnawed on his lip, a ball of nervousness growing in his belly. If not for Cregan’s hand on his thigh, his leg would have bounced endlessly. He felt horrible asking Rickon to take up the mantle again so Cregan could be his armor in King’s Landing against Daemon’s ire.
Gillian tsked, nodding to Jace’s pale and suspiciously bare neck. “You haven’t even marked the boy, Cregan! To take him out of your territory without having mated is foolish. Your wolf won’t stand for it.”
“You had us vow that we would wait,” Creagn reminded them. “If not for that, I would’ve marked Jacaerys as mine. He should bear my mark, but we swore to you a ceremony.”
“Fuck the ceremony!”
Gilliane turned and smacked her husband's shoulder.
“Rickon! Wash your mouth, you silly wolf,” she growled, eyes briefly flashing before softening and turning to her son and Jace. “Things change, and as to avid bloodshed beyond our borders, it would not break my heart to see you two bonded beneath the Gods in privacy. While you’re away, we shall prepare for your return and have a celebration that even those in the South will envy.”
Jace tried to keep his heart rate calm. If it were to beat too fast, all three wolves would feel terrible, especially Cregan.
But he couldn’t help the uptick in his chest, unable to ignore that thrumming pulse against his ribcage with each word Gillian and Rickon spoke about mating.
Mating differed from the kisses they’d shared, or the soft touches at night when they drifted off to sleep.
Mating was permanent. Once Cregan bit him, there would be no turning back. It was past the point of no return.
What if, one day, Cregan woke up and thought what they had was a mistake? What if he regretted being with a human?
His mother loved Harwin Strong. And he died too soon.
Did Cregan understand that something as simple as falling down the stairs could kill him?
Wolves didn’t ordinarily associate or breed with humans, not wanting to weaken the pool of wolf blood. People saw Rhaenyra as strange for loving and birthing those not wolf-born.
Even Alicent and Daemon held a strange resentment for humans, though his stepfather hid it better.
Jace loved being loved by Cregan. But in the end, what was Cregan getting out of it?
“You’re unhappy.” Cregan, having lifted Jace into the car and fastened his seat belt— in the deep winter, he had a thing about making sure Jace was secure in case they slid across black ice or swung into a tree—hauled himself into the driver's seat and started the car, blasting the heat.
“Hm?” Jace gave him a shaky grin. “I’m fine.”
“No, I know you too well, Jacaerys.” Cregan reached over and enveloped Jace’s hand, intertwining their fingers. His thumb skirted along Jace’s thin wrist, rubbing in a soothing, circular motion. “You cannot hide from me. Share what pains you.”
When Jace tried to tug his hands loose and wave off Cregan, the wolf shook his head and stood his ground, holding Jace’s chilled fingers close.
“I’ll not have you keeping secrets from me, even if they are small. Should they cause you pain, I would like to know so that I may be there,” he tapped a finger against Jace’s temple, “with you.”
Those kind words broke the dam.
“Do you ever wish I was like you?” Jace’s lower lip wobbled, tears brimming the edge of his eyelids. “I don’t want to die like my father and leave you all alone. Not if you could find happiness somewhere else.”
His sadness drenched the car. Not that he could help it. “I don’t want to be not enough for you.”
Cregan, to his credit, didn’t lose his temper, even if he very much wanted to. No matter how much he wanted to shake his sweet Jace until the truth of the matter was ingrained in his silly head.
It boiled his blood that there was any amount of doubt between them.
“You doubt this?” Jace gasped when Cregan took one of his smaller hands and pressed it to the wolf's chest.
Against his palm, Jace felt a heartbeat as strong as thunder, desperately trying to break free from its confines. “Never doubt this, Jacaerys. It beats for you and only you. I could care less for your blood.”
Jace was speechless as Cregan leaned into his space and kissed his throat, a hum resonating deep in the wolf’s chest. “There is not, nor will ever be, another who could take your place. We are bound as one, Jacaerys,” he promised, “and nothing will change that. You swore yourself to me, as I have to you. Only the Gods remain, and should they shun us, I will not listen.”
The only thought Jace had was I was a fool to ever doubt you as he turned his head to press his lips to Cregan’s, hands pulling on the other man's clothes in a desperate attempt to bring them closer together, wanting to feel skin, his warmth. A fire burned night and day, beneath the flesh of the man who stole his heart.
His fingers caught on Cregan’s thick coat, laden with too many buttons to count, and he tugged on them with a whine.
“I’ll not take you here, my love,” his wolf crooned, all sickly sweet with a smirk that Jace could hear. “Not with others so close by.”
A final kiss on Jace’s chin, and then Cregan was back in the driver's seat, pulling the car back onto the trail. Jace rolled down the window— Cregan snapped at anyone else for letting the heat fly out the window, but never Jace—welcoming the rush of cool air on his warm cheeks, rolling his eyes at Cregan’s cheeky grin.
As they started home, a dorky smile overtook Jace’s face. Gods, I love him.
The following week, their carefully laid plans came to a disastrous halt.
Plane tickets were bought, and two bags were packed, brimming with cotton shirts, pants, and the standard Stark attire of animal skin. Jace had tried to explain that his stepfather would call him something cruel, but the wolf waved it off, saying he needed to show his true self for their first meeting.
Sara came through, her loyalty to the pair shining bright. She’d been one of the first to welcome Jace from the airport, driving him in and doing nothing to settle his worry about being so far from home.
She took great pleasure in calling him Velaryon and cheered for joy when Cregan called to report that they would be taking a leave from the pack, Rickon would serve in his stead as alpha, and Cregan intended to claim Jace properly.
It was customary for the pair to bond at the foot of the Weirwood Tree. But winter had come and layered thicker blankets of snow upon the ground, enough to cover Cregan’s ancestral home in white. Even the blood-red flowers of the tree did not shine brightly, covered by the Northern storm.
A stronger man would’ve gone through with it, but to lay Jace in the freezing snow, ice crystals pressed against his back, so much that it would burn his skin, did not appeal to the alpha wolf.
Still, the prospect of properly claiming Jacaerys stayed and festered within Cregan’s mind, unwilling to wait for the weather to turn in their favor.
Four days before their flight, Cregan succumbed to his wolf.
Pain flared in the back of Jace’s mind, but he was too far gone to care. Bent in half, knees near his ears with Cregan’s strong hands keeping them in place, he let out another broken moan, wincing when sharp teeth dug into the meat of his thigh.
They were on the couch, watching a rerun of their favorite dating show, Can You Wolf It?, when Cregan turned on Jace, ravenous with fire under his skin.
Cregan teased another bruise onto Jace’s thigh. He suckled on the pale skin, slowly trailing his way up and down each thigh.
They trembled in his hands, and he wasted no time in nosing underneath Jace’s balls to place a kiss at his pink hole.
It winked at him, and Cregan used the flat of his tongue to lick one strip across the virgin flesh, tasting salt, musk, and a delicious perfume, much like Jace’s natural scent—honey, almond, spiced vanilla—but deeper, richer, like thick molasses coating the back of his throat.
He made a strangled noise before diving in and lapping at the quivering hole.
Aside from the ball of electrifying pleasure in his belly, turning and twisting with every swipe of Cregan’s tongue, Jace’s world felt hazy and tilted on an axis.
The rest of the room felt faded and far away, nothing else existing but himself, Cregan, and the bond growing between them.
Cregan delved his tongue in as far as it could go. Keeping one hand on Jace’s trembling thigh and pulling his tongue free, he lowered the other hand to the spit-covered hole.
As he slowly, so slowly, worked a finger in, keeping an ear out for any noises of discomfort from above—the last thing he wanted was to tear him inside—Cregan suckled the tip of Jace’s weeping cock, tonguing the slit.
He wanted to taste every part of Jace, needing to memorize every piece of him.
Jace’s toes curled. He brokenly cried, “F-fuck, Cregan!”, chest heaving with every breath. Two fingers slid in knuckle deep, tips of the fingers curling, and Jace’s vision went white.
He was no longer beneath the living room ceiling when he blinked, no longer bent in half on the couch.
He looked around the room, spotting the godawful clock shaped like a wolf's snout with two red eyes glued to the top they bought at a farmers market.
Next to it, a framed photo of Cregan and his pack, with Jace plastered against his side, beaming brighter than the sun's glow. Beneath him were soft purple sheets. By his head, silken pillows.
“Are you with me?” Cregan’s low voice murmured in his ear. Jace felt the heat pouring off Cregan’s body, the effects of rut coursing through the alpha wolf's body. “Look at me, Jacaerys.”
Jace’s eyes found Cregan’s gray ones, clouded with unabashed hunger. Moisture covered the bottom half of his jaw, his fangs glistening in the bright bedroom light.
“I’m here,” Jace said.
To Cregan, his Jacaerys looked like an offering from the Gods themselves. His mussy brown curls, tangled near his forehead and knotted at the nape of his neck.
A sea of dark bruises decorated his collar, like a necklace built from Cregan’s possessive nature, one that longed for all to see who the human belonged to.
Licking the dried cum from Jace’s belly hadn’t been enough. He needed to be inside.
“May I…” Cregan’s voice trailed off his mind begging him to take and take until there was nothing left. “I need you, Jacaerys,” his voice bordered on whining, “Tell me what you need.”
They never went further than this, worried that a bite would happen whether they wanted it.
Cregan had fucked his fair share of women and men, all wolves, but none of them were his soft, human Jacerys, with warm chocolate eyes and easily breakable bones.
Rising from the rumpled lilac sheets, Jace ran a hand through his tangled locks while angling his body to lean against Cregan’s, knowing the wolf was anxious for skin-to-skin touch. “Can I be on top?”
Quicker than Jace expected, Cregan heeded his request and flipped them over, leaving Cregan flat on his back with his two hands planted on the human's hips, thumbs digging into the little extra fat there.
The wolf nearly died when Jace told him of his "unique" reproductive qualities.
Someday, they would have little northern children running with brown curls and bunny teeth. The small pecs on Jace’s chest would swell with sweet milk, sustenance for their child. He often dreamt of suckling from them, drinking his fill.
“Is this okay?” Jace planted his hands on Cregan’s chest to lift himself up and slowly inched his way back. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted shyly.
“And you’ll fuck no other while I live and breathe,” growled Cregan. His eyes flashed. “You’re mine, Jacaerys.”
Jace grinned with pink cheeks. “I know.” He struggled for a moment, wrapping his hand around Cregan’s cock and trying to find the best position to, well, sit on it.
His hand stayed planted on Cregan’s muscled chest, wanting again to feel his heartbeat as he slowly sank himself onto Cregan’s cock.
Every inch felt like a punch to the gut—never-ending but oh-so worth it—if only to become closer to one another. Trills of pain traveled up Jace’s spine when he started to reach his limit. But when he took a peek at Cregan’s face, he couldn’t find it in himself to quit.
He promptly sank the rest of the way until bottoming out on Cregan’s cock. His head fell back as stars exploded behind his eyelids, fire pooling in his belly, pain and pleasure becoming one.
Jace lost control of his jerking hips, grateful when Cregan sat up and kept them chest to chest.
Their lips met in a messy kiss, all tongue and glistening spit, both of them moving in tandem. Every time Jace’s hips rose, Cregan moved to meet him, sinking himself back into Jace’s tight, wet heat.
It took everything in Cregan not to come immediately, wanting to savor the moment for as long as he could.
He wanted to keep the image to memory; fucking Jacaerys in his bed, on top of his sheet, relishing in the sounds of his cries and whimpers, knowing that the rest of their days would be filled with this.
At a particularly deep thrust, Jace cried out. “ Ah, f-fuck, I need—” His voice broke off, rising and crashing down again, tears beading in his eyes. “Bite me,” he begged, “Fuckin’ do it already.”
“It will hurt,” warned Cregan, “My sweet Jacaerys. It will burn,” he said.
Eyes still shut, Jace offered him a fuck-drunk grin. “Don’t c-care. Just need you… all of you, my wolf.”
Cregan adjusted slightly so that he was hunched over Jace while still allowing them enough room to move, and pressed his face to the hollow of Jace’s neck. It smelled the strongest there. He took a deep breath, savoring it, before opening his mouth and biting down hard.
Their bond came to life instantly, like a lit match, burning in Cregan’s chest. It seared into the back of his mind, another presence aside from his own. Everything about Jace was suddenly there; his scent, his face, his laughter, his smile.
Like being intoxicated, he was drunk off of Jace.
Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of their position and took control from Jacaerys, desperately needing to knot the other boy lest he go mad.
Cregan effortlessly flipped their position while keeping his cock inside of Jace, as well as his teeth, refusing to let go. With Jace on his back and helpless to move, Cregan snapped his hips forward, pounding into the tight, wet heat that his wolf was calling out for.
His knot started to grow, enough that with each pull out, Jace shut his eyes and yelped.
Still, he fucked himself in and out a few more times before plunging in one last time, the knot still growing bigger, pressing against Jace’s tender walls.
He pulled his teeth free from the bite mark as well, licking the blood off his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to the bloody mark.
“Shhh,” he cooed in Jace’s ear when the smaller boy started to whimper and wiggle away. “Settle, Jacaerys. It’s no use.”
He laved at the claiming mark, his saliva designed to heal it properly.
The throes of sleepiness drifted through their bond, similar to the hazy look on Jace’s face—he grinned at the release splattered across their chests, his Jacaerys had found pleasure as well— and very slowly, mindful of their tie, careful not to pull or twist, settled them both of their sides, cuddling Jace against his chest like a pup.
With the fire in his blood calmed at the moment, his mate well-fucked and resting, Cregan shut his eyes and did not dream, for everything he had ever dreamed of was in his arms.
“We can always go back. There’s another flight in an hour or two, there has to be, we could just get on and go home.” Jace tried to tug himself out of Cregan’s hold but was forced to march to the front door of a home he hadn’t seen in nearly a year. “I think this is a bad idea,” he said.
“No turning back now, Jacaerys,” Cregan said, then kissed his mate's cheek. “Go on. I can hear them on the other side.”
His head tilted a bit to the left, listening. “Your mother longs to hold you in her arms. You are not cruel enough to deprive her of that.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.” Jace lifted his hand to knock, then dropped it and gazed up at Cregan. “What if he tries to eat me?”
The corner of Cregan’s lip ticked up. “It would be a worthy fight.” He leaned down, nosing at Jace’s still slightly raw bite mark. “But I doubt it will come to that.”
Before Jace could find another excuse to leave, the door in front of them wrenched open, and Jace’s face broke out into a beaming grin. His body moved before his mind, legs surging forward until they crashed into Luke, who started to sob into his brother's shoulder.
As he held Luke, Jace realized how much he’d missed holding his brother. He’d missed Luke more than anything.
Leaving had been nice, and Cregan was everything he ever wanted, but Luke was his brother.
Maybe he could convince Luke to return to Winterfell with him. He shook his head and pulled Luke tighter.
For now, he just wanted to hold his baby brother.
Further into the room, his mother, Rhaenyra, watched her children embrace while holding little Ageon against her hip. At her side, even Daemon couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Everyone,” Jace said, Luke still pressed against his side. He waved a hand behind himself. “I’d like you to meet Cregan Stark.”
Then pointed to his neck. “He’s my mate.”
A few floors up, Uncle Ageon cackled like an old witch.
Daemon threw his hands up in the air and stormed off, muttering obscenities under his breath about stupid children and feral wolves. Rhaenyra chased after him, trying to quell his anger, and Luke just gave him two thumbs up.
It’s nice to be home, Jace thought, pulling Cregan inside and shutting the door.