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The Red Keep. The tantamount of Targaryen history. Cregan had always dreamed of going, to take in the hundreds of years of Westerosi history. There was nothing better than being there, in person, to understand the depth of the impact they’d had on Westeros.
Cregan’s masters thesis on post-conquest Westeros and the height of Targaryen power had been a passion project, and it was nearly done. He’d been studying at Winterfell University since he left school, spent his undergrad focusing on the First Men and their impact on Westeros and the North, before shifting his focus to Targaryen history. He couldn’t say what drew him to it specifically, but something about the legendary Targaryens and their dragons called to him. There had been links between the Starks and the Targaryens, according to the history books. Perhaps it was that that drew him to the Targaryen era, some historical desire for that relationship once more.
Whatever the reason, it found him at the little coffee shop in the yard of the castle, surrounded by all this beautiful architecture. He’d spent the day being shown around, every nook and cranny that was open to the public, taking notes galore, and now he was stood in a queue waiting to get himself something to drink whilst he took a minute to sketch some of the stunning architecture.
The barista that greeted him was gorgeous, a slim twink with beautiful dark curls, enchanting eyes and a smile that went beyond customer service as he greeted Cregan. His nametag read Jace, and he had a patchwork of tattoos on one arm that were a mix of dragons and leaves.
“What can I get for you?” He asked in a voice that made Cregan feel things.
It took him a moment to find his words. “Uh, a maple spice latte, please.” He asked, feeling suddenly subconscious about his order. Big guys like him didn’t order silly coffees with syrups designed to taste like sugar and autumn. But the season was well and truly upon them, the leaves around the realm turning from green to yellow and red, and Cregan enjoyed the sweet coffees more than he’d like to admit, especially this time of year.
“Sure thing. What’s the name?“ The barista - Jace - asked.
“Um, Cregan.” He stuttered.
“Perfect. Your total is on the screen, pay when you’re ready.”
Cregan tapped his card and paid, then moved down the counter to wait for the drink.
It came out in a cup the same shade of red as the bricks of the castle, and the art in the foamed milk was that of a dragon. He couldn’t help but grin. How cute and touristy. The Targaryens were really flogging the dragon connection for everything they could make.
He took the tray to carry it to a table, and soon he found one in a cosy corner by the window that overlooked the main keep. He picked up the mug, keen to take that first, warming sip, and noticed a napkin tucked in the saucer.
On it, there was a scrawled number, under the name Jace. Oh, the little twink was bold. Cregan liked it.
He added him to his phone and immediately messaged him to say hi, and then they were basically talking non-stop. Cregan was in King’s Landing for a while, and ended up in that coffee shop endlessly. The coffee was cheap, tasted amazing, and the pretty dark haired twink was always there. He’d go in, order a coffee and a croissant, and settle down in his ‘usual’ spot by the window. As he worked on essays on his laptop or drawings in his sketchbook, the coffee would keep coming. On the warmer days, it would be their signature cold brew, on the colder ones it would be lattes with intricate art on top. All flavoured with the sweet, spiced maple syrup, sometimes topped with decadent cream. Sometimes there would be muffins, pastries, thick slices of frosted cake. Apparently they were piloting a new seasonal menu and Cregan was the market research. Jace would always bring them over with a smile and a wink.
That day, Cregan was idly sketching the main castle yard, how he’d imagined it would look back in the days of Knights and Kings. Glasses perched on his nose he’d been scribbling away, gaze flicking up to watch the way Jace worked, flitting from the coffee machine to the cash register and back, greeting everyone with a smile.
He’d been unable to stop himself drawing him, entranced by his delicate features. A jawline so sharp it could cut glass, high cheekbones, defined nose. He was everything Cregan imagined the Targaryens of yore to have been like, aside from his dark hair. He had that ethereal, otherworldly beauty to him. He was completely captivated.
The Jace that he drew was a prince, of that he was certain. He stood in the yard of the red keep, sword drawn, curls loose around his shoulders. He wore thick, expensive clothes that Cregan would’ve coloured with rich reds, blacks and golds if he wasn’t just drawing in pencil. Something about that twink just screamed royalty. The cloak he wore caught in the wind, the same wind that ruffled his curls, and in the sky a dragon soared overhead.
He was pulled from those thoughts of a history long since past by the very twink he was drawing.
“Hey, hot stuff.” Jace said with a grin, setting a coffee and a muffin down on the table in front of Cregan. “What’re you up to?” He asked, the same upbeat way he always did.
Cregan looked up, quickly shutting his sketchbook so Jace wouldn’t see the sheer amount of drawings he’d done. “Oh, uh, not much.”
Jace pouted. “Hey, don’t be so miserable. You were drawing, I saw it. Let me see.” He whined.
“No way. Nobody gets to see my art.”
“Oh, so you were drawing.” Jace said with a grin.
Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that.
Jace reached forward to snatch the book from Cregan, eagerly flicking through the pages until he found the sketch Cregan had been working on.
“Oh my gods, is this me?” He asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Uh, yeah.” He muttered, heat rising in his cheeks.
“Seven hells, it’s stunning.” The twink murmured, slender fingers tracing over the dragon. “Can I keep it?”
“Uh, it’s not very good.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s stunning. Call it payment for the coffee, you’re always wanting to pay me for it.”
“I, uh, I could do it properly. Redraw it, add colour.”
“I’d love that.” Jace said earnestly, violet eyes glittering like amethyst. “I’ve always wanted a dragon.”
“I kinda guessed.” Cregan said, nodding to his tattoos.
Jace ran a delicate hand up his arm. “Oh, yeah. It’s obvious, I suppose.”
“I can give you the drawing by tomorrow, it’ll just take me time to colour it.”
“I’d wait way longer than a day, hot stuff.”