129 AC
Winterhold
As the final year of their initial studies at Winterhold College drew to a close, the time for departure arrived. Visenya returned to the South, to the volatile embrace of Dragonstone and her mother's court. The separation was a quiet ache, a stark reminder of the distances that still lay between them.
However, the North had taken root in Visenya's heart, and her ambition to learn the advanced medical arts was sincere. After earnest conversations with her mother, Visenya secured her mother's permission to return to Winterhold the following year to continue her studies.
Her return was met with a shared, unspoken relief between her and Cregan. With Visenya back, and with his own understanding of the looming conflicts, Cregan also continued his studies in Winterhold, dedicating himself to the intricate world of engineering. The decision allowed him to further hone his skills while staying close to the woman who was quickly becoming central to his life.
During their extended time in Winterhold, they discreetly cultivated their burgeoning relationship. They spent countless hours together, ostensibly focused on their studies, but truly savoring each other's presence. They explored the College's vast libraries, worked side-by-side in the workshops, and shared quiet moments observing the Northern lights from the observatory. Their understanding deepened, their affection blossomed, and their secret became a precious bond, strengthening with every shared laugh and knowing glance. They were learning, growing, and falling more deeply in love, all while the distant drums of war in the South grew steadily louder.
132 AC
Cregan Stark POV
It had been three years since Visenya and I started courting, a secret dance woven into the fabric of our Winterhold lives. Tonight, the craving for something more, something adventurous, gnawed at me. The moon was a sliver in the sky, casting long, dancing shadows.
It was late, deep into the night. I made my way stealthily towards the building Visenya stayed in, my steps light, accustomed to moving unseen in the dark. Reaching the familiar stone wall, I looked up. Her window, on the first floor, showed a faint, warm glow. The light was still on. Good.
With the agility honed by years of training, a silent promise to Sasaki Kojiro's legacy, I began to trek the wall. Hand over hand, foot in crack, I scaled the rough stone, the short distance no more challenging than a familiar staircase. In moments, I was at her window. I gave a soft, rhythmic knock.
Inside, Visenya's head, probably buried in some ancient herbology text, glanced up. Her violet eyes widened, first with confusion, then with a flicker of disbelief and shock as she saw my face pressed against the pane. Without a second's hesitation, she hurried to the window, pulling it open as quietly as possible.
I slipped into the room, the cool night air following me. Before I could even fully straighten, she was upon me, a whirlwind of furious whispers and frantic shoves. She started to hit my chest lightly, her fists balled, a mix of genuine fear and exasperation on her face. "Are you mad, Cregan Stark?!" she hissed, her voice barely audible but laced with genuine terror. "How could you be so reckless? What if someone saw you? What if you fell? It's dangerous!" She continued to scold me, her hands still pushing against my chest, a palpable relief mingling with her anger.
I caught her hands gently. "First floor is nothing, my lady," I said, a grin touching my lips. "I used to climb Winterfell walls since I was seven years old. This was barely a warm-up."
Her protests momentarily subsided as she processed that. I quickly took advantage of the lull. "Now," I said, my voice dropping, "put on something appropriate. We're going out."
Her eyes widened again, her anger forgotten in a rush of curiosity. "Out? Where? What do you mean 'out'? It's the middle of the night, Cregan!"
I cut her off. "It's a surprise. Just change quickly. And quietly."
She stared at me for a moment, then, remarkably, she listened. With a silent sigh, she moved to her wardrobe, pulling out a dark, practical riding dress and a cloak. She changed with surprising speed, her movements swift and efficient.
While she dressed, I stood by the open window, scanning the courtyard below. When she was ready, cloak fastened, she looked at me expectantly.
"Alright," I said, turning to her. "Climb on my back."
Her jaw dropped. "Cregan! I will not! That's absurd!"
Before she could argue further, I took her by the hand, spun her gently, and with a practiced ease, tossed her onto my back, securing her legs around my waist. A surprised yelp escaped her lips, quickly stifled. "Hold on tight," I whispered, then began the careful descent down the wall, Visenya clinging to me like a frightened cat.
We reached the ground unnoticed, the shadows our allies. From there, we made our way through the sleeping College grounds, like ghosts in the night. I knew the routines of every guard, every watchman, every sleepy shift change. We slipped past the gates of Winterhold with practiced ease, the guards inside none the wiser.
Outside, hidden behind a clump of snow-dusted pines, a horse awaited us, saddled and ready. I had prepared it hours ago, a reliable Northern steed. Tonight, we would ride.
We vaulted onto the horse, and I kicked off into the silent night. We rode away from the familiar outlines of Winterhold, the cold air a bracing balm against the excitement thrumming through my veins. We galloped north, towards the White Knife River, a place I knew held a secret beauty only revealed under the right light.
The ride was exhilarating. Visenya clung to me, her slight weight a warm presence against my back. The thud of the horse's hooves on the frozen ground was the only sound, a rhythmic beat accompanying our silent escape. We passed through hushed forests, the bare branches reaching like skeletal fingers towards the moon, and then out into open plains, the vast Northern landscape stretching endlessly under the starlight.
Finally, the distant roar grew louder, a deep rumble that promised something grand. We dismounted near a hidden clearing, and I led Visenya by the hand through a small copse of trees. As we emerged, her breath caught in her throat.
Before us, illuminated by the pearlescent glow of the moon, which hung high and full in the inky sky, was a breathtaking sight. The waterfall, a massive cascade of ice and roaring water, plunged into the White Knife below. In the moonlight, the frozen spray shimmered like a million scattered diamonds, and the mist rising from the depths caught the light, creating an ethereal haze. It was a raw, untamed beauty, unlike anything she would have seen in the manicured gardens of the South.
Visenya stood motionless for a long moment, her head tilted back, simply taking in the majestic scene. The shock and indignation of my clandestine rescue had vanished, replaced by pure awe. "Cregan," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of the water, "it's... it's incredible."
The thunder of the waterfall filled the air, a wild symphony under the moon. I moved to the horse, which stood patiently tethered to a nearby pine, and retrieved the supplies I'd prepared. A thick, woven blanket was unfurled on the damp, mossy ground near a relatively sheltered outcrop. I lit a small, shielded lantern, its soft glow chasing away some of the deeper shadows and casting a warm halo around us.
"Sit," I invited, gesturing to the blanket.
Visenya, still awestruck by the cascade, moved gracefully and settled down. I untied a small bundle, revealing slices of smoked venison, hard cheese, and a flask of spiced wine. "Feast fit for a princess who climbs walls," I joked, offering her a piece of cheese.
She took it, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "I certainly wasn't expecting this when I opened my window. Is this what passes for a typical night out in the North?"
I grinned. "Only for those who dare to seek it. It's... a quiet place. My secret. I wanted to share it with you."
"It's beautiful, Cregan," she said, her voice soft, her eyes fixed on the moonlit spray. "Truly. Thank you for bringing me here."
We talked for hours under the watchful moon, the roar of the waterfall a constant, comforting presence. We spoke of our studies, of Winterhold's strange and wonderful contraptions, of the mundane frustrations of academic life. We spoke of our families, of the North and the South, but mostly, we spoke of sweet nothings, the kind of whispered conversations that only two souls falling deeply in love can share. Simple dreams, shared observations, the quiet thrill of just being together, far from prying eyes and weighty expectations.
As the moon began its slow descent towards the western horizon, painting the sky with the first hint of dawn, we knew our stolen night had to end. I gathered the supplies, secured the horse, and then we began our silent journey back. The ride back was as smooth as the escape, the horse's hooves muffled by the pre-dawn quiet. We re-entered her room the same way we exited, a shadow slipping through the open window, leaving no trace of our adventure.
As I turned to slip back out the window, a soft touch on my hand stopped me. Visenya. Her eyes, still luminous from our adventure, met mine. In a swift, unhesitating motion, she rose on her tiptoes, pulled me closer, and pressed her lips to mine.
It was a soft, hesitant lip kiss at first, a gentle exploration. But as I felt her warmth, felt the unspoken question in her touch, I reciprocated, my own lips responding, my arms encircling her waist and drawing her close. The kiss deepened, her lips parting under mine, and then, slowly, tentatively, our tongues rolled against each other, a new, intoxicating dance. The world outside the window, the whispering winds, the distant College, all faded into insignificance. There was only the warmth of her body against mine, the taste of her, the urgent press of our mouths.
My breath was ragged, the taste of her still on my lips as Visenya pulled back, gasping for air. Her eyes, wide and luminous, met mine, a silent challenge. Then, before I could even fully register the moment, she caught her breath and kissed me again, a hungry, desperate seeking that left no room for thought.
She pressed into me, her small hands fisting in my shirt, her body a sudden, urgent weight against mine. The initial softness was gone, replaced by a fierce, demanding passion. It was intoxicating, overwhelming.
My own control, thin as ice, threatened to shatter. With a surge of willpower, I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space between us. My voice was hoarse, thick with want. "If we continue," I managed, my eyes locked on hers, "I can't stop anymore."
Her answer was immediate, fierce, and entirely unexpected. "Then we will not stop," she whispered, her voice barely a breath, before she pounced on me again, her lips reclaiming mine with a raw intensity that stole my breath.
The world blurred. There was only the heat of her, the frantic beat of my own heart echoing in my ears, and the desperate urgency of her kiss. When she finally broke free again, her eyes were dark with desire. Without a word, her nimble fingers found the delicate knots on her riding dress. With a practiced ease, she undid them, and the fabric began to slip from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, a dark whisper on the stone floor, and there she stood, before me, naked as the day she was born, illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern.
The sight of her, so utterly vulnerable and yet so undeniably bold, stole the air from my lungs. My own hand went to the hem of my shirt. Without hesitation, I pulled it over my head, tearing it away, and tossed it to the side, letting it fall forgotten on the stone. There was no turning back now.
Her dress pooled at her feet, and my shirt lay discarded on the floor. The soft glow of the lantern cast long shadows as we continued to kiss, a desperate, hungry exchange. My hands, no longer bound by fabric, eagerly began to explore her body, tracing the delicate curve of her spine, the soft swell of her hips. Each touch was a silent promise, a deepening of the unspoken desires that had simmered between us for so long. As my lips devoured hers, I felt her hands venture lower, boldly slipping inside my pants, seeking and finding their target.
A jolt of primal heat shot through me. Without breaking the kiss, I shifted, my hands finding purchase on her smooth, firm ass. I lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist, and with a few decisive strides, made my way towards the bed.
I gently laid her down, the soft mattress yielding beneath her. As she looked up at me, her eyes dark with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability, I quickly shed my pants, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. It was then that her hand reached out, firm and warm, enclosing my hard cock. She squeezed gently, then began to rub, a slow, tantalizing motion that sent shivers through me.
I leaned forward, kissing her again, my tongue seeking hers. As our mouths met, my left hand moved to her breast, pinching and twisting her left nipple lightly, eliciting a soft, breathless moan from her. Simultaneously, my right hand ventured lower, tracing the delicate skin of her inner thigh before finding her lower lips, and then, with a gentle push, I inserted a finger, feeling the warm, wet welcome. She didn't remain passive; her hand on my cock intensified its rhythm, a rhythmic jerking that spoke volumes of her desire.
We continued this intimate dance of exploration and arousal for a while, a symphony of touch and burgeoning passion. Finally, I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, my voice thick with desire.
"I'm going to insert it," I whispered, "slowly."
She nodded, her eyes wide, a silent acknowledgment of both anticipation and the slight apprehension of a first time. Taking a deep breath, I positioned myself. Slowly, deliberately, I began to insert my cock. Her body tensed, and I felt the slight resistance, heard her soft gasp. I paused, allowing her time to adjust, to breathe through the initial discomfort. After a moment, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
And then, with agonizing slowness, I began to move, in and out, the rhythm gentle, building, a silent promise of the ecstasy that lay ahead.
Having waited for her to adjust, I felt the subtle shift in her body, the easing of her initial tension. Her hands, still clasped around my waist, tightened, pulling me closer. And then, I began to move, slowly at first, then faster, a rhythm building between us.
Her gasps turned to soft moans, her fingers digging into my back as our bodies found a cadence, a passionate urgency that filled the small room. The bedsprings creaked a quiet protest, unheard amidst the rising crescendo of our breaths. I shifted, rolling us, finding new angles, new depths. We moved from lying face to face, her legs wrapped around me, to me kneeling above her, watching her eyes flutter as I drove into her, then to her climbing atop me, guiding the rhythm with her own eager movements, her hair a silver curtain around us. Each position brought new sensations, new heights of pleasure, until the air grew thick with our shared passion and the scent of our bodies.
We came together, a wave of ecstasy crashing over us both, leaving us breathless and trembling, clinging to each other in the aftermath. But the night was long, and the hunger still lingered. After a moment of recovery, a silent glance passed between us, a mutual understanding. We found each other again, drawn back into the fervent dance of desire. We made love two more times, each encounter deeper, more primal than the last, until our bodies were thoroughly sated, our minds hazy with exhaustion and exhilaration.
Finally, as the first faint hint of dawn began to paint the sky outside the window, we collapsed onto the bed, limbs entangled, breathing in unison. Sleep claimed us quickly, a deep, contented slumber earned through passion and the quiet promise of a secret shared.