#robb stark

[another-help-six-responsibilit]

#zuko #the riddler #robb stark #support blm #darth maul #ghost #skam españa #great legs #broadchurch #xmas #nishinoya yuu #humilated slave #joshifer #citati #grace kelly

[low-imagine-meeting]

#robb stark #support blm #dominated slave #diego sans #darth maul #bonfire #ghost #golden state warriors #skam españa #archer #great legs #wlw #broadchurch #bendy and the ink machine #xmas

[feyhunter78]

Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Ch 2

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow x oc #jon snow imagine #jon snow #tyrion lannister #lannister!reader #new series alert! #I know y'all don't want this but I wanted to make the title thing so bad #tyrion's daughter #theon greyjoy x sansa stark #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #got fanfiction #robb stark

[kvitravvn]

Robb Stark and Jon Snow with their direwolfs, Grey Wind and Ghost by Denis Maznev

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #robb stark #jon snow #grey wind #ghost #george rr martin #art #fan art #digital art #illustration

[to-the-stars8]

FUCK YOU GEORGE LET ROBB STARK GO HOME

#Robb stark #ned stark #eddard stark #asoiaf #asoif/got #got #game of thrones #Jon snow #house targaryen #house stark

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

46 - And Wait for the Snows

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 19.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, implied child abuse, character deaths, sexually violent language, disturbing imagery, body image issues, references to torture, smut, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, handjobs, breeding kink, p in v

Notes: A lot happening in this chapter, but we'll get a chance to breathe soon enough, I promise. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The Crow's Eye would not consider himself to ever be a victim of circumstance. No, he made due no matter what was thrown his way. Those around him may not like the path to get there, but they had no say in the matter. Not anymore. When he was a boy, of course he had to do what his father bid and listen to his older brother, but he gleefully had three younger brothers to torment as he pleased.

Which he did. Not sure if the youngest of his brothers truly recalled those days, but they certainly still hated him as such. What choice though did he have? None. He didn't do it because he was told to, or even because they at all interested him. His brothers were all stupid, weak, and pathetic and if his youngest brothers were going to learn their place in this family, he was going to force them to learn they would never be above where he stands.

Then the second youngest died, still a child from some infection. Leaving the brothers to only four left and as he grew up, the more he learned he was the best of them. He answered to his father and elder brother for now, but the Crow's Eye was patient. He would wait. Bide his time until it was all prepared and then it would all prove to be his.

It took many decades to find that opportunity, but once it presented itself he took it with no remorse and now he was the only one left to prove he was worthy of being in charge. Five brothers to four, and now to three and he stood as the eldest. He had many plans to put into place and enacted them all swiftly. Scrapping his late brother's pitiful ideas, and sending his men every which way to get organized for once in their pathetic lives.

Truth be told, even though she was the focus of part of his new plan, he did not give a single care about the Targaryean girl. He didn't care what she was doing, what she looked like, or what she wanted. If she were smart, she'd give him what he wants willingly and he'd let her keep the dusty slave cities she pretended to rule over. He let his men assume that making her his Queen was his goal, but laughable if they truly thought he needed her.

He had heard stories, screaming that she was the blood of old Valyria but which one of them had traversed the poisoned lands? It was not her. Gold could be wagered on how sure he was that she never once had to lift a finger. Just stood around looking pretty and making big speeches as if that was what made a leader.

No, spilling blood with your bare hands made you a leader.

What use was she to the Crow's Eye if she relied on men and magic and dragons to win everything in her honour? Put her alone in a room with him and give each one of them a knife and who would win? Well, it wouldn't be the one whose never even held a sword before. But he let his men think all that anyways. It was easier to get her dragons if she thought she was wanted with them. He'd dispose of her later.

It wasn't as if women did not interest his desire. No, in fact he showed women exactly what he liked about them and it wasn't dainty girls who spent more time looking and sounding impressive and alluring. Either learn what true men what, or spread your legs and shut your mouth before he grew tired and cut your tongue out for you.

Much like the Flowers girl. She was pretty, and she fucked well, but she talked too much and thought that's what would endear him. Now she had no tongue and in some months time, would gift him a brand new bastard before he disposed of her too. None of these women had a single clue what would make them invaluable and he knew he was never going to find one who did at this rate.

His plans were all working, he needed the Targaryean for her dragons, so he begun organizing to soon send his brother off to accomplish bringing her to him. But the Crow's Eye was no fool. He had walked in the ruins of old Valyria, seen the vastness of shadowbinders in Asshai. Without those dragons, she had nothing to offer him. And once he tamed them, he had no use for another bed warmer with a large mouth.

No one knew what he has seen. No one knows where his exile had taken him, what he had done and what he had been stripped of. He had dreams of flying as a boy, and finally he was able too unlike a single soul anywhere else. Even when it had been taken away from him, his people were all fools to think any could keep up with him.

Until that was, he sensed it. On his ship and the night was quiet as the water were calm and yet he felt it. The pull in his mind. It was not clear right away, but it was there. Someone out there had been gifted as he had once been. Given the Greensight and whoever it was, their connection to it was strong. Unusually strong, as if there were the powers of two people inside what he sensed was one mind.

He was cut off from his strongest of abilities, Bloodraven had seen to that. He had found little use of it alone anymore, but if he could feel it coursing through his veins so far away, the Crow's Eye knew he needed to find them and maybe he could find a way back in by force. It took time. Weeks, then a month, then a little more time passed and finally he found it.

And his plans changed. He still needed the dragons, and he still needed to show Westeros he was the only man worthy of ruling them, but he finally found it. The only one he'd want by his side. The only one who had power that couldn't be found anywhere else.

The one with the Sight, just so happened to be a small stag. A green eyed Baratheon girl the realm once thought was dead. But she lived, and now ruled in the North beside her bastard born false King. Had he been a highborn, maybe he'd have considered the boy's feats impressive. But he was a bastard, a Snow, pretending to be worthy of being a King, and even worse? The girl had brought him back from the dead before he took her as a wife.

She was something else. Something no woman could conceive of being. But, he did not consider the circumstances to be in his way. The bastard King would be taken care of when the time was right to strike, and once she sees the magnitude of who The Crow's Eye is, she'd leave behind Snow in an instant. Power recognizes power, he knew it.

But even better, she was a fighter. She knew what spilling blood with her own hands was like, she fought and killed men in war, and she grabbed that dagger in their pulling visions and plunged it into his eye without hesitating. When his mind returned to his body, he was more sure then ever. He tried seeking her in the Green Sight again and again, but she always had her Great Wolf by her side. As if even in her dreams the damned bastard was still protecting her. Then she cut him out. She grew stronger and he found himself unable to seek her out no matter what he tried.

But he would not give up now. Only power was worthy of standing by his side, and the girl had power. Even the red woman had seen it. Coming to him this night as he looked to the darkness of the open water. An accent so many from Asshai thought they could seduce with, but the only things he cared about were what her god and blood magic could do for him. “She will not be easy to sway to your side. The wolf's claim on her is strong, stronger then any man I've known. He will not give her up.”

A lift of his eyebrow, and a smirk over his face came about. “He is a bastard, he is worth nothing. Trust in me, I have enough of my own. One dies, I'll fuck another into a girl to replace them. I do not fear him.”

The red woman however, held a look he could only describe as grim and knowing. “Then you would be a fool. I have wished to see of the Lord within you, and the flames show me nothing. I asked for the Lord's chosen warrior, and he shows me no sight of you. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only snow. You are not his chosen warrior, and thus such are not men to be trifled with. They will not give her up easily.”

But he was the Crow's Eye. He had never let lesser men then him best him at anything, and he would not begin now. “Ask your Lord to show me how to get to her, and we shall see what it takes for the bastard to give her up. Until then, I have a Kingdom to take. Bring me what I ask, or stay out of my way. You are not here for your looks. Cease to be useful, and we shall find out how much your Lord protects you from me then.”

She did not react, and he did not expect her to at this point. He did not care her fire god did not think he a great warrior. The only war that existed was the one before his eyes. As she walked away, he already knew taking her would be a challenge. Her King father on one side and her Great Wolf pretending to be a King on the other, he needed to be careful.

But Stannis Baratheon could not watch over his daughter all the time, and eventually, Jon Snow would slip up. He couldn't protect her forever, he was nothing more then a bastard after all. She would grow tired of playing pity eventually.

He had told her in the last Green Dream he found her in, to come find him. He hadn't given her his name, but he wanted her to want it. Want him and find him without anything to go by. Prove she wanted better then to warm a bastards bed in a frozen wasteland. If not though, that was fine. He would still take her by force when the opportunity arose.

He was Ironborn after all. Taking what he wants, when he wants it, was what he was born to do.

The hand finding it's way caressingly at the back of your neck instantly had you lean back with a hum, eyes fluttering closed for only as long as it took for the hand to turn to a warm body sitting down next to you.

Colder and colder as the North became, the more work was done to keep Winterfell warm. Hardly a room you could go into with fires blazing everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the natural warmth soothing beside you as Jon joined you. The servers had begun putting food out ten minutes ago but you hadn't glanced away from the journal in front of you even once.

Showing Jon the papers you had found in the Lord Commanders quarters of the Nightfort, Jon had wondered what you'd want to keep it between you both for now for, until he got to the last. The direwolf sigil said it all. It sounded serious, and now it was his family directly involved in whatever this was. He kept them stashed away, knowing you had copied it down and ever since arriving back days ago, every spare moment alone your eyes would find the symbols and work through it with something weighing your head down until it ached in your neck.

Jon's voice now, was comforting in your ear as the hand slipped from your neck down the top of your spine to rest “I need you to do me a favour.” Turning instantly, it seemed he knew just how to capture your attention as he held back a smirk right away at your serious eagerness. “Have one meal with me where you haven't drifted off somewhere else.”

Shoulders deflating, Jon rightfully took that as a sign. Reaching over you to pry the edge of the book from your fingertips and close it. Watching with a hidden away amusement as he then picked it up, and started moving it. Sensing what your response would be, Jon shifted so his hand left your spine and nudged gently at your ribs when you reached for it. Placed now out of your sight behind where he sat somewhat to the side to face you.

A murmur on your voice unconvincing. “I'm not distracted every meal.”

Hand coming up to your jaw, Jon let two of his knuckles gently run along the skin he could find. Grey eyes wide and shining as he looked at you with nothing but a fondness. “What news did Arya tell me this morning then?”

The longer you did not answer, the more playfully mischievous Jon's eyes turned. Turning from him to roll your eyes, he also did not believe the huff which sighed out of you. Relentless Jon seemed to be that evening, interrupting whatever he put on his plate to add to what you assumed you finished to yours. Turning with a raise of your eyebrow, Jon hardly responded before biting into something. “No arguing, eat.”

You knew the easy quiet which followed was carried with Jon watching you with sharp eyes to ensure you were obeying him. Many including him had previously complained you seemed to not be eating enough, but now Jon was sparing no time in breaking that habit entirely from you. He was good at it, mostly though, because he was unquestioningly giving you orders without saying as much.

Orders which Jon knew you'd listen to if spoken in that tone. “Tell me if I'm mistaken, but I'm beginning to suspect you might actually enjoy ordering me around a little.”

Jon didn't even need to look your way to do it. “I don't like ordering you around. I like it when you're good for me.”

Eyes flying wide open as the fluster wormed it's way from your chest to your cheeks you knew the smile on you was shining in embarrassment. Muttering not low enough Jon almost wouldn't be able to hear, “Seven hells, Jon..” Only just catching your gaze, you could see the absolute enjoyment in his dark eyes in watching you get so easily flustered by him.

Rasping low but with as much tease as there was something raw and held back in affection, “You'll be thankful I'm trying to prepare your appetite now. I was always hungry as a boy, meaning soon enough he'll be too.” But you didn't continue, hands paused mid motion to look at him. It came so easily from Jon when before in these very halls never once did you discuss anything close to children together, it was always a known impossible.

You knew Jon likely could sense the weight in your throat at your moment too long of quiet, before you almost diverted the emotions to sit back down in your gut to explore at a later time. Quietly turning back to your plate and muttering only for him to hear. “I don't know. Not being hungry could be an indication she's going to be just like myself.”

Jon didn't hesitate to mutter quiet but quick, “He's a boy.”

A smile almost broke out instantly, a rolling of your eyes as you bit your tongue to keep it all just slightly at bay. Neither of you had told nor seen anyone about it yet, but even through Ghost you knew he couldn't possibly be able to tell that. But Jon had only argued when you brought it up. “I don't need anyone to confirm it for me. I know it's a boy.” He had yet to explain himself on such, but you rolled your eyes playfully all the same.

Whatever retort died on your tongue at the sound of footsteps coming along the corridor. Jon and yourself glancing to one another, a knowing in both eyes that for now, it was being kept to the two of you. Jon knew one could call him selfish for it, but he enjoyed having this between only you two, no one else sharing or watching.

Jon liked that the only business your future child was thus far, were yours and his. A little family in the making Jon thought impossible, and he wished to be selfish about it a bit longer. Though, there was something else he wanted to do, wanted to tell. But those two would also not speak it to a soul, though Jon was aware he had not informed you yet that he had blurted it out to Sam before he even told you.

Tomorrow you were planning on going back to Gilly's reading lessons and Jon hoped Sam would not stare at you in knowing. He just did not want the world to know yet, he liked the quiet life you both were trying to form and that included quiet about your son.

Arya's voice filled the quiet room however the moment she opened her mouth, a talent of her very own before even walking fully into view. “How many winters have you both been through before this?”

Glancing to one another, eyes squinting in thought trying to look passed the decade long summer to before that. Slowly answering as the numbers formed as he spoke them Jon replied in hesitation, “Four, maybe five. But I was too young to remember the first two, so three”

All but flopping down, Arya had her fur cloak wrapped around her so firmly it looked like a blanket, as she stared incredulously at how neither you nor Jon even had fur anywhere near your persons. Her voice in the same disbeleif. “Was it always this cold, or is this winter special because the world wants to end with it?”

The talent Arya had in making Jon smile at subjects usually pulling him back down to seriousness, Jon replied as he even more amusingly to you, found himself almost instinctively putting food on her plate for her. Though, all of you knew she'd pile more on top and somehow continue to stay that minuscule size.

“This is your first winter, it takes getting used to. Always make sure you're tending to your fires, and stop forgetting your gloves when you go outside.” Arya instantly piped up that she hadn't forgotten, only for Jon to reach to something at his side and with a dramatic slap, flopped her gloves right onto the table separating them.

Neither spoke for a moment until she reached for them, stuffing them away quickly as she narrowed her eyes in a jesting glare at him. “I had them on, I just..left them somewhere.”

Without even a blink, Jon answered flatly back. “Right. By somewhere you mean the dresser in your chambers?” Once more both wolves stared the other down, only causing you to look away in an amusement before turning back to the food on your plate.

You were almost certain there was more food on there now then when you last looked. Utterly relentless he was. And you were by his estimation, only a month in. You dared not think how he was going to start to fuss once the sickness starts. You had tried to avoid Robb those mornings to prevent him fussing over you, but there was not a chance you'd be able to sneak away and get sick without Jon seeing or being told.

As much as you trusted and appreciated both of them, the moment Olly or Theon knew you were trying to hide from Jon getting ill of any kind, they'd tell him without the passing of a single heartbeat to heartbeat.

Between the siblings bantering to the side, you had only just noticed as silent and graceful as ever did your mother find her way to sit by you. A warm shall wrapped firmly around her and a low tone as if speaking through the wish to shiver. “At least sending you here all those years prepared you for the cold. Brightwater Keep is as warm as a place can get before reaching Dorne.”

A doubtful huff of a laugh left you, quiet in tone as she was, you'd both be drowned out by the two wolves were you not know slightly faced away from them. “If how warm Kings Landing could be, I have an idea. You were right by the Honeywine though, I can't imagine it could get that warm even in the middle of the summer season.”

The sudden voice piping up from Arya drew both your attentions over to her, something if you flicked your gaze over more slightly, you'd see a bit of an amusement in Jons eyes. “What's that?”

You know why Jon was amused. It was getting a bit easier for Jon and Selyse to get used to one another so regularly. While he was used to your quiet, Jon also knew how to pull more wildness out of you in a way that wasn't so clear even existed in your mother. Not any fault of hers, but she simply was a bit on the more consistently serious side then the Starks would've been used too.

It did however, make her and Arya's interactions amusing. Two very different people in every manner now bound as family by law, and clearly she had no read on how to get along with her yet. Typically then, you'd act as the median in between to make it easier to connect loud and eccentric with quiet and stern but she still answered with ease. “The Honeywine is a river sat right in the heart of the agricultural valley in the Reach. Most farms all try to compete in buying land right by it, since whoever produces the most, there normally will sell for high prices come the harvest. It's where a large majority of the food in the South is imported from.”

Nodding, you tried to ignore that as you ate, with both the other pairs of eyes keeping on each other, you had to not glance down noticing Jon returning to your plate what you had subtly tried to put back. He and Ghost both, honestly. At least the food Jon kept throwing at you was cooked and not normally still with it's skin and covered in blood. Though if Ghost could cook it you wouldn't put it passed him either to then bring you cooked food whenever he returned from a hunt. Turning into a game this was.

Arya meanwhile, asking with a genuine curiosity. “How do they decide who gets what?”

It almost felt like you were back in the days of Kings Landing, you being the one asking the questions to your father preparing to take over at some point in the years future, but now the two of them played those roles. “Typically that's left for the Master of Ships to sort out. Each Kingdom has their own unique needs, and how much of what they ask for can also depend on either their gold, or the value of the export they trade us in return. The worse the offer, the less they get.”

Not one to mince her words either, Arya's brows narrowed. “That sounds like a horrible job.” A laugh came from you before your mother could answer, affirming it was. “That was what you did, in King's Landing?”

Nodding, you ripped off pieces of whatever you had picked up, once more ignoring Jon watching you through his own meal as you explained more. “Mostly. There's a lot of learning what grows where and what place without it demands said crop, what they have to offer in terms of resources and how readily they can produce it to trade on a regular basis. How much each Kingdom makes in gold and what of that goes towards their agriculture, mining, whatnot. It's half the days in a week looking at too many numbers, and the other half either down by the ports ensuring everything is running to standard, or arguing with the Master of Coin because your own spending allowance was once more cut down.”

You knew for a multitude of reasons the image bothered Jon. The man himself you were referring too, and a once long ago dislike of how a man such as Petyr Baelish would treat you. When in truth you were certain Jon's head may implode if you told him just how many men in power in that rats den they call a capitol, would try and find ways to take advantage of your young age and lack of influence on the people.

Renly would used to jest that Janos Slynt seemed to treat every one on the small council with respect except for you. What he may tell to any else in a calm and reasonable tone, he would puff up with ingidnance and spit it at you as you barley would raise an eyebrow towards him.

Just as you all had begun to stand and make their leave, Jon grasped at your wrist, giving a small tug towards him before you could fully leave the seat. A gesture to the two now leaving as if to implore you to give him a moment when out of earshot.

But by the time they had, he didn't quite jump into whatever it was. Running a hand through the loose strands of hair at the side of your head, you tilted more towards him with a small question asking in your eyes to his. Jon only responded with a shake of his head in no, letting him toy with your hair and eyes drift innocently along until you knew where he wished he could see better.

Meeting back, Jons gaze flickered in something upsetting for a moment, letting a frown slip to follow. Quiet as any, so guards nor servers passing by would hear him. “I know you don't like talking about it, but I'd like you to answer me honestly.” Your brows narrowed as a bit. “Did they used to starve you? The Boltons?”

Head tilting back slightly in surprise, you opened and closed your mouth twice before pushing past the uncomfortable stammer collecting your thoughts. A nod left but so did the words you knew Jon preferred to hear instead. A strain in your voice, you didn't expect. “It was worse when I was in the Dreadfort. They kept me in the dungeons for months, fed twice a day but it would be generous to call both combined enough for one proper meal.”

Letting the hand toying with your hair, find it's way to the skin by your cheek and jaw gently. A concern in his eyes as he looked back down to your stomach and up again that you hated seeing on him.

Trying to explain it away, knowing Jon knew better. “Roose Bolton always argued against treating our prisoners well during the war, it only made sense he wouldn't show me the same courtesy. Wanting me to know how little he cared for Robb's methods.” Jons voice more of a rough husk as he asked about when they brought you to Winterfell. “They had to feed me more, trying to dangle me in front of our people and pretend as if they were treating me well. Didn't have much of an appetite, but I suppose at least Roose Bolton always ensured wine was in steady supply to force down my throat, just enough to keep me from lashing out.”

Jon didn't move or say anything beyond the angering clench in his jaw. Only letting something hiss out as he looked down to your stomach again. “Only for that?” When you didn't respond right away, Jon found your gaze again, the anger far closer to the surface then even seconds ago. “Did they tell you that's why they were forcing you to drink?”

Tilting your head a bit, you knew he could see that you were not following his logic, but answering best could be anyways. Words stretching at first as you put the thoughts into form out loud. “No, that would have required Roose Bolton to tell me anything. By then I knew what I was there for, and what I was to do. Just play my role with no fuss, don't try to ask any in the castle for help, just be quiet and play nice.”

Oh something once more was too close to the surface for him. Exhaling roughly, you could see Jon was keeping his mouth closed knowing too easily something might spill out of it in anger should it open even for a breath. Your hand closest to him instead reached up, raking gently through his curls hoping the sensation would calm down whatever had worked him up so quickly.

Leaning close enough to him he likely would feel your breath across his skin as you spoke, you whispered with nothing but a tenderness. “Jon, that's passed us now. We're here and they aren't, that's all that matters.”

Interrupting the end of your sentence, Jons head whipped up to find your eyes. Yours innocent and confused against his more intense and angry ones. “What did you say to me, the first time I took all your clothes off?”

You felt even more confused, and by now couldn't even recall whatever nervous ramblings came from your mouth that afternoon. Grasping at straws, it was evident in your tone you were making it up. “Something along the lines of not knowing why you'd want to do that with me in the first place?” Your attempts in a lighter tone to ease up this new tension failed.

Jon was no calmer as his eyes narrowed more at you. “No, when I saw you bare for the first time what did you tell me in that moment?” Eyes wide a bit as you could not put the memory to any words spoken. Saying you remembered being nervous, but Jon jumped in finally. “You started apologizing to me. Right away, you tried saying you were sorry you didn't look like other girls, thinking you weren't impressive enough or small enough.”

You could've been right back in that room, the manner in which the same embarrassment filled your veins now as it did then. Jon intimidating you with a memory right into being as nervous fully clothed and married as you were bare and a maiden. It was horrible to spit itself out, but you said it before you had the reason to be able to stop it. Muttering without looking at him directly, “Hopefully was small enough the second time around.”

But he only stared at you. Something angering but confused and disapproving melting into his features as he barley shook his head at you. “Do you really think that's what I want?” Your silence said it all, that you really weren't quite sure what your mind wanted you to say versus your insecurity. Head dropping with a sigh, Jon raised it as he grabbed your arm gently. Pulling you to stand with him as the other arm grabbed your journal and tucked it away somewhere on him. “Come on.”

You followed him in quiet, his arm slipping to your bicep to almost pull you close as he soothed his rough palm over it back and forth. You knew better then to question him when he was walking you in a silence demanding privacy. By the time he reached whatever destination he had in mind, he ushered you into it with the door closing and locking behind him. Intentionally that was.

A more open room, a large tub in the middle typically used by those not in the family, as each room proper all that one individual to them. But you weren't sure why you were in here and not simply brought to Jons. Only, by the time you turned to ask what this was about, Jon had decided on the path he was going to approach making his point from.

A path in which, you truly, should have been able to predict by now.

Turning back to face you, properly Jon ran a hand over his mouth almost with a frustration trying to get wiped from his expression. Eyes glancing around the room behind you, Jon let out a sigh before coming up to you. Head dropped a bit as his eyes trailed down to your stomach, likely still wishing he could see anything by now.

Both hands coming gently to hold at your hips, your own hands found their way up his chest and along his collarbones and winding to the back of his neck to wrap around. One hand removed from you, Jon gently ran two fingers down your stomach by the back of his knuckles still not looking away. Your voice gentle as it tried to call out to him. “Jon,” A half heard grunt barely left him to indicate he was listening. “I don't say those things hoping to upset you.”

Gruff in tone, he still didn't tear his eyes away. “No, but they do.” In thought for a moment he hadn't shifted his stance at all by the time he said it. “Take this off.” Your head jolted back just a small bit in question but Jon with his other hand still on your hip tugged slightly at the material of your dress. “Off.”

Repeating his command, you felt your heart race just a bit as Jon took enough of a step away from you to give you space. Nerves flowing through you all the while as he didn't move to do or say anything else, but watching with dark, tense eyes as your hands begun to undo things in front of his watchful gaze.

First the longer, drapier material covering most of you, second then moving to your warmer dress, letting it fall to the ground pooling at your feet. The shift let on you was dark, but short enough the cold of the air begun to hit you right away. Inhaling as he looked you over, something on the edge of greedy seemed to slip through Jons voice. “You wear more layers then you used too.”

Those nerves turned ragged almost in an instant, wishing to shuffle on your feet but stood in stillness not wanting him to think they were there. Your voice however, low and muttering did not quite exude confidence. “It's also colder then it used to be.” Staring at your shift he said nothing but the message was spoken. You were not done yet.

Looking away from his tense eyes, you carefully pulled down the straps of your shift down your arms and it too pooled to the ground of piling clothes. That time Jon didn't need to imply anything, you read him loudly and clearly. A shaking exhale left your lips as you gentle pushed down the last of the material on you hiding your most intimate of aspects from him, now bare in the cold of the room against Jon still fully clothed.

Jon kept you standing there. His feet taking him a few steps backwards to lean against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he still only looked at you. The flustering in your heart running rampant in your veins like a flooding wave, on an embarrassed edge against his unblinking, dark stoicism. His voice rasped deeply from something trapped within his chest. “Some nights I wish I was a worse man.” You said nothing, trying not to look like you wanted to start shivering. “Could have kept Ramsay prisoner, put him in chains, gag him and make him watch me take you apart. Show him what it's like to enjoy something he tried to ruin.”

Your breathing picked up, but attempting to hide the fact was impossible as bare as you were. The rising and falling of your chest made it obvious how much Jons eyes kept training back to your breasts.

Jon though, thought little of stopping. “I'd keep you there, take you as long as it took, all night if I had to. Take you apart until you were the beautiful crying mess I know I make you.” The desire mixed with a hint of humiliation had you wanted to shift around nervously again. He was extremely talented at it. “And the only thing that would make me stop, is when I was sure beyond any doubt I put a child in you. Finally when he realized it too, then I'd kill him.”

Little grey was left in his dark eyes, almost now sitting angry and black in colour. Your own voice but a fleeting high pitched whisper. “But you are a better man then that, Jon. I know that.”

Shaking his head, Jon barley let his eyes close as he spoke. “Some days I wish I wasn't.” Biting your tongue as he opened back to stare intently at your form he was rough in a strain as he spoke. “If I were that man, darling, I wouldn't have even let you leave my cock that first night until you were pregnant. I wanted to, I wanted to tie your arms up, tie your legs spread out for me against the bars too, and fuck you until I was sure, then I'd fuck you more just to be safe. If Ghost hadn't brought you to me when he did, I was getting so close to finding you myself and fucking you where you stood.”

Your breathing was noticeable now if it hadn't been before. It should scare you, the possessive thoughts spilling from his mouth like they were rambles he couldn't stop. If Ramsay spoke to you that way, it would terrify you. But it came from Jons mouth, and it only made you feel humiliated as no doubt you could feel blood rushing to flood between your legs as he had barley even blinked. And he still couldn't stop himself from speaking.

Hands clenching as they were crossed over his torso, Jon almost wasn't even aware how much he had begun to let it all spill out. “When I saw you like this for the first time, almost every night after until you came back to Winterfell, I couldn't stop myself. I'd see you, remember how you felt, how you looked. How you were so nervous but you still lay back on my bed and spread your legs knowing I wanted to see you, see how wet you were. Every night after that I came in my hand thinking about how you looked that day.”

“Do you know how often I think about how you looked that night in Castle Black?” Shaking your head, his answer wasn't even what you expected. “Never. I think about everything else, but I've never thought about how you looked. Because I hated it. I still do.” The dark edge on his voice and you started to wonder if Jon even realized how much he had begun to ramble angrily. “They starved you to keep you weak, and you've managed to trick yourself into thinking because it makes you small like other highborn girls, that you should stay that way. But I hate it. I've never seen anything as beautiful as the way you looked at afternoon, and I miss it. I miss when you weren’t scared for me to see you. I miss when you let me just tell you how I thought you were perfect and you wouldn't argue about it.”

Swallowing harshly, you turned away with futile hopes of the flush in your skin going way or the stuttering breaths disappearing. Feeling his eyes watching your jaw twitch trying to hold something back you didn't even know what it wanted to say. The muscles in your neck almost shook trying to remain collected knowing that Jon knew better then that.

Only a mutter, but in the quiet of the empty room, you trusted he could hear you. “I know you didn't care I didn't quite look as pretty as other girls.” The hint of smile almost found your lips, “And it was easy with Robb. We were south at war for three years, there was no looking pretty there when you lived in army camp to army camp. But..” One more you tried to swallow that heavy stone of nerves back down but it was too large. It refused and thus a cracking in your voice came out as your face turned more into a stone like expression trying to smother it. “The girls Ramsay kept around..they were so..”

Not looking Jons way, you missed the wide eyed brightness in his eyes. How easily your own insecurities turned his frustration over them into something more gentle then Ramsay was even capable of pretending to be.

But you continued. Hands wanting to hide what of you was still exposed to his eyes, but forcing your arms flat at your sides, only the tensing and twitching of your fingers giving away to Jon how much you wanted to cover up. “If he was going to marry me, then to him, I'd better have walked into the godswood looking like a girl he'd want to actually fuck.” Shaking your head, eyes closing as you could see the image in your head, you felt a long gone wave of regret. “The way he'd speak so rudely about Roose's new wife, it was like if I didn't look just like the girls he kept around himself then I may as well be as grotesque to him as he saw Walda.”

It was far too late to change, but you still felt the regret. The way you barley gave her a chance, when in truth she made the best of the marriage she like so many had no say in, and in return you refused to even try to be anything of a real friend. The girl probably died thinking you hated her. But still, the way Ramsay spoke about her? Rambling on about how he wasn't even sure how his father managed to fuck her, as if her weight had anything to do with such an act.

It was easier to not fight back against the way he wanted you to look, but perhaps you still hadn't quite come back enough to remember Jon wanted you before you were forced to look that way. He had seen you after seven days on the run, no longer looking dainty like they forced you to look. But he was always still there, wasn't he?

Whispering in your ear about how he had made you something no one but Ramsay would ever be charitable enough to want anymore. Had ruined you in ways more then you've ever allowed yourself to think about. By the time your eyes flickered back up, it was only the tender softness of Jon's grey eyes bright as he looked at you with something so easily detectable as heartbreak. Forcing yourself not to look away that time, you stayed with nervous eyes on his.

Approaching you finally, Jon once more let a hand rest along your hip while the other tilted your chin up so you could properly meet his eyes. Something upset was trying to hold back within them. Your hands just barley found the courage to rest along the belt sitting low on his waist keeping things still strapped at the ready. Digging your fingertips slightly into it trying to seek any freedom between it and the leather under it. “I'm not about to get any smaller or firmer now.”

“Good.” Your eyes flickering up to his with a hesitation to doubt him right away. Jons face far more wanting to smile then before. “I'll keep you pregnant if I have to, just so you understand how little I care about you looking that way.”

Shifting to hold at your hips, Jon begun suddenly to move you, turn your back so you were standing how he just had been and pushing you backwards slowly. Your hands grasping onto his wrists. “Jon?” But nothing was said until he stretched his reach to gently push you against the back wall. Not leaving your touch until he saw you relax a little.

Instead though, of matching how he had you take everything off, Jon knew just how to keep the upper hand while riling you up for him. Far back enough you'd have to push off the wall to reach him but knowing he wanted you to say just like that. The belt along him and weapons attached came off, but nothing else. Only watching you with a shine in his dark eyes as his large hands swiftly moved his layers enough that by the time he came back to you?

One hand pressed against the wall beside your head, the other just managed to pull his cock out alone, leaving everything else on as he crowded your bare self against the wall. Leaning so his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Give me your hand.”

Tenderly, you reached out as Jon guided you to wrap it around the hard, and thick girth of his cock, squeezing you tight enough more then what he knew you'd do alone, before moving that same hand to hold back at your hip. His breathing increased slightly, as did your nerves but peering up at Jons eyes? He gave a single, small nod and you knew once more, he had given you a command he expected to be obeyed.

Normally, he guided you until you were comfortable enough taking over, but you started stroking his cock. Firmer then you would have held him on your own, trying to recall the help he'd give you. To grip him tighter, to go just the right pace beyond the more slow and gentle way you'd handle him. Your eyes wanted to trail down but Jon leaned in, keeping your eyes up on him with a narrowed expression until he closed the rest of the gap.

Gripping the back of your neck, Jon captured your lips with his, deepening it as he kept you pressed further into the wall. Biting at your bottom lip before switching back to his kiss, and then once more biting at you again until you gasped.

Allowing Jon to slip his tongue inside your mouth as you instinctively gripped his cock a bit tighter, and a growl crawling up Jons chest and vibrating into your mouth as he brushed his tongue along yours. Both hands coming up to cup your cheeks, Jon tilted your head more up to him as he stood a step closer. Your hand having to twist somewhat to find the right angle to stroke his cock at, that you thought he'd like, but his tongue only left you long enough to bite at your lips again and once more forcing his path in your mouth as you mixed between pleasuring him and being at his lips mercy.

A mercy he granted not your neck. Dragging his lips down your jaw and neck, Jon spared no time biting down roughly, breaking the skin just perfect enough to indent his mark and sucked at the sensitive flesh. Your back arching off the wall into him, your thumb running along his tip before using your palm a bit to help run it all along his cock. Trying to make the sensation for him a little less raw.

Both of his own hands moved downwards, grasping roughly at your breasts you already too felt his nails dig into the sensitive skin as his teeth did your neck. A growl leaving him as your hand ran up and down his length a bit faster, and a bit tighter. His fingers grasping at the small buds of your breasts and twisting without build up from ease. A cry leaving your mouth until Jon pulled from your neck. Eyeing his work before pinching and yanking at your nipples, watching your eyes flutter closed trying to not cry his name out.

Muscles in him straining, his cock throbbing in your hand desperate to cum. Jaw clenched as he muttered your name roughly, nudging your nose with his to gain your attention. Slowly down only a bit, just as you did Jon reached down. Covering your hand with his and forcing you to stop and squeeze him more. “You feel this? How tight your grip is now?” Nodding, Jon kissed you, a rough force pulling back with an equally as rough bite. “That's not even half of how tight you feel around me.”

A whine peeking from your held back sounds, Jon nodded as your eyes half open gazed up at him, now only following him moving your hand along his cock. Something was teetering on his mind, but a shaking exhale, Jon groped roughly at the breast his other hand was still on before leaving.

One hand reaching down to your bare thigh, yanking it up in his arm along his hip as the other all but forced your hand from him with a throw. Finding your eyes, Jon gave no chance to think. In one smooth, but soaking tight thrust Jon slid inside of you. The cry leaving as you grasped his shoulders, he was as deep as he could go and the burn that time a little more noticeable. But still certainly wet enough you felt embarrassed he now knew how quickly you were ready for him from stroking his cock alone.

His now free hand cupping the back of your neck, he turned you to look up at him and you clenched tightly around as the core in you built into a burn. Eyes blown out, lips parted, Jon already looked so close and his rambling spoke just that. Hardly needing to pull out halfway and slide slowly back inside of you, “The next time you try and tell me you don't look good enough-” Eyes squeezed shut as he hissed out, you grasped his shoulders as you tried to move against his cock each time he slid back so deep.

“Next time?”

Trying to prompt him back to you, Jon more firmly slid the hand on your thigh down more, gripping behind you tightly, one ass cheek in his hand Jon forced your hips against his. His cock brushing against something sensitive inside of you. Fingertips gripping the plush skin, trailing more towards your ass as if tempting you with the idea of taking you there again too. Nodding, Jon watched as your eyes struggled to stay open looking to sweetly up at him. “Next time you talk badly about how you look, I'm bringing you out to our men and show them what they will never have. Cunt, ass, mouth, I'll fuck all of them just so they understand how beautiful you look taking me.”

Leaning close to your lips, Jons breathing was heavy in your mouth before he rested his forehead against yours with a growl. Your hands rushing up to wrap around the back of his neck, raking gently into his curls. Pulling him more to your neck, Jon pressed you more against the wall as you coaxed him gently. “Anything you want, please- just cum inside me, Jon. Please,”

He only nodded, thrusting roughly barley four more times as the leathers against your bare skin scratched, but he crowded you. Sinking his cock deep as he could, Jon groaned your name in your muffled neck. Spilling deeply inside of you, the hand still at your ass forcing you hips to take him as deep as you could. Almost hot in the cold air around you, his seed filled thick inside of you, flooding your cunt, his muscles tensed as he did so.

Just to find the sadistic tendencies in him, as soon as Jon finished spilling inside of you, he pulled out completely. Not gentle or even with any warning, but your walls so sensitive and begging for your own release and he refused anymore then what he filled you with. Grabbing your jaw, Jon pulled you to meet his lips in a rough, biting kiss. Panting against them as he spoke lowly. “Do you want to cum?”

Biting your lip slightly you nodded against him, but Jon only sighed out another rough exhale. Rasping against your lips, “Prove to me you understand then. I won't let you anywhere near an orgasm until you prove to me you understand without doubt how much I'll always adore your body.”

You hated that he meant it, and you hated how much you loved when he'd refuse you just to add too the lesson he wanted to teach you. “I promise, Jon. I'll prove it, I will.”

Cupping one of your cheeks, Jon swiftly readjusted his clothes to look nothing out of the ordinary as you pressed bare against him. Smile so handsome and so perfect on his face, “Show me by the end of tomorrow you've learned your lesson, and I'll take care of you, alright? I promise.”

Only a breathless laugh was capable of leaving you, but he shared it right back only brighter and better on his face. This certainly had not been on the list of things to do by the end of the night.

Any other life, and you might have felt ashamed at how easily you let him treat you however he wanted, but you also knew he wasn't cruel to be mean. He just enjoyed dangling you on that cliff's edge, both of you knowing at some point he'd pull you back to safety, but loved the fact that until that time, you had to rely entirely on him to get to that point. It was probably a good thing you knew so little about sex most of your life, had you known being with Jon could be like this, you would not have been an innocent maiden nearly as long as you were.

Only, it was what he told you after as you both waited for sleep to take you in bed that same night, that changed everything. As for a brief moment you thought he had changed his mind, but it wasn’t that, not at all. Almost as if he had worked you up earlier, keep you on edge as if to prepare you for something else entirely.

“I'm beginning to get used to this pattern where you don't explain what you're doing to anyone.”

Your eyes drifted up from where they were trained on the papers before you, only to flicker them away with a withheld sigh and close to have rolled your eyes. The tip of the quill tapping at the very top of the ink bottle for the past ten minutes without even noticing the degree of time passing. Your tone was flat just as your expression. “Not quite sure where you were the first time we met, but I rarely tell anyone what I do at the best of times. You are only noticing it now.” Pausing you looked to the book in his hand with question. “I seem to recall asking Olly to fetch me that.”

Unlike your dutiful steward, Theon chucked the book on the table somewhat by where you sat before taking a seat on the side adjacent to you. “You did, but I was speaking to Wolkan when he came in, and gave him a break from taking orders from you.”

Your eyes peeled back to your work, a great effort being made to avoid the appearance of rolling your eyes with a smirk, but not from keeping the comment off your tongue. “Some people are happy to take reasonable orders without complaining, Greyjoy.”

You could leave it to Theon, when alone in the room dropping all formality except for mocking. “Just because he doesn't complain to your face, doesn't mean he isn't complaining, Baratheon.” Only trying to rile you up, you let a small smirk let out before pulling the quill from the ink bottle, and instead choosing to go from tapping on the glass, to lightly twirling it between your fingers, eyes narrow on the page. Theon's voice breaking the quiet with more genuity. “Thought you said nothing in those papers you found was of use.”

Managing to maintain the twirl of the quill, you continued to look at the same words you kept re reading for the entire time since transcribing it. Muttering in a bit of distance in your tone, “That doesn't mean it isn't valuable in some other way. We already have it in our possession, so we may as well understand what it said.”

Asking if you had leaned who wrote it, once more the line you hoped sounded as if it came easy as the truth sounded. “No. There were dozens of Lord Commanders who have little written record of. It could very well be any one of them.” Glancing up, you dragged the book over to you without further comment. Page after page you quickly sifted through before finding what you were looking for. In quiet for a good moment before glancing back up, a questioning gaze on Theon. “What?”

“Something around here seems odd. Ever since we left the Nightfort, something's been off with Jon. You as well, but mostly him.” The worry and concern was genuine, and it didn't feel good but it was easier to deflect it now as if for nothing. Not what you said to Theon, but the knowledge of knowing you that the world wasn't going to let you find the answers here.

Certainly the Stark who wrote of these images seemed to agree. Whatever he had found, was not here nor the Wall. Whatever the green in the heart of Winter was, he found something of a woman in white. Jon had said none have gone beyond the mountains of the Frost Fangs and returned, and yet the page you were looking at was the beginning of a trek this Lord Commander had made. A trek which begun in description of going beyond those same mountains and there were more pages after that, all written in succession. And returned to the Nightfort.

One person had gone there and survived, but the why was thus far no where near close to an answer.

Glancing back at him, you knew Theon deserved a more honest answer and you didn't like keeping it from him, but you spoke a half lie regardless. “A lot on my plate is all.” It was dismissive enough he didn't pry, and still, you felt the guilt for purposely leaving him out of it.

“Are you avoiding telling anyone about it?”

Jon barley had spared a glance up before returning back to the too many things in front of him to count. His response half hearted, “There's nothing else to say, Sam. I told her, we haven't told anyone else. That's all there is to it.” Asking why not, Jon once more found his eyes trailing to what he truly wished he didn’t have to be planning. “Why not what?”

Sam it seemed, was as interested as this news as he was so far with many steps he saw of Jons relationship with you. “Tell people. You're King in the North, don't you think people want to know the King's wife is pregnant?”

That one got Jon to look up at him with something more nervous then before. “They would, but we want to keep it between us for now.” The shortness growing in Jons patience grew shorter still hearing Sam mention he knows, Jon looked back down away from him. Opening his mouth before closing it again, Jon let an exhale out as he found the attempt one more time, far calmer. “I never thought I'd have this. Have her. The last night I had her to myself before she married Robb, we sat in the godswood making up a story about other lives we could be together. I thought I was giving her up for good.”

Walking more towards the side of him, Sam had found both the understanding in him but also knew that maybe Jon was just vulnerable enough to say the truth right after that one. “And it has nothing to do with how you've been staring at maps north of the Wall all day?” Jon knew when he said nothing, that was as good as an admission in Sam's quick mind. “Jon-”

“Bran's still out there.” His eyes were a bit wider, knowing the grey in them were shining against the dim light around the room from the fires. “You told me they went beyond the Wall to try and stop this, stop them from coming.” It was quiet, but it was loud in his head saying it. “What if the answer I'm looking for isn't here? What if it's out there?”

There was only one brazen enough to stand outside the King's study and listen as if he had any right, but he was one to walk in and make his spying known. “It isn't an easy answer to come too.” Howland Reed had taken not more then two steps into the room before turning. Making a point as he closed the door on the guards simply station outside. Saying nothing else but quiet when out of earshot of listeners. “Brandon Stark isn't the only one beyond the Wall, remember. I watched my children leave their home, not knowing when I would ever see them again. Knowing they had too, because they were the only ones who could help him.”

Sam had not noticed the glance between the two men, the knowing as Jon and Howland both knew the answer Jon was trying to rationalize. Before he told you the night previous, Jon had went to the one man who understood dreams as such first. Still, he appreciated Sam arguing for his sake anyways. “You can't be suggesting he goes out there, he has a Kingdom to look after, he has a wife-”

Jon turned to stare at him into the quiet, Howland Reed however finished a different sentence to the initial thought. “Tell me Samwell, what use will it be ruling over the North if we have not done everything possible to stop the storms before it takes us anyways.” Sam's own words were interrupted as the man stepped calmly but further into the space Sam stood, your name coming from the older man. “She is not the only one with strange new abilities tied so closely to the North. She returned from the dead, and she brought Jon back from the dead.” Head nodding to Jon. “Warging, skin changing, green dreams, none of these are powers any yield but from the North. And all of them point further north then Winterfell or the Wall alone.”

Jon knew his silence without a shred of question, confusion or doubt on his face only added to the realization that this was not the first time this idea was brought up around him. Sam asking directly, “How long have you-”

“The night before we left I started to figure it out, and the time we've been back here I finally put it all together.” Pleading with all he had, Jon felt the same twisting in his gut as the morning after the attack on Castle Black. The knowing that it was not a plan which sounded good, but just as horrible to think the consequences of. “Sam, you didn't see what happened at Hardhome. You don't know what they're capable of. If I don't do everything I can to stop this, it will happen all over again but this time to my own people. And it won't stop with the North once they're gone too.”

He hated it, but he knew too much. Jon had been in Winterfell, he had been in two forts along the Wall and he had been beyond it. And never closer to real answers of what was going on were given to him then those years he spent out there. It had begun with watching Craster offer his baby, his own son to the Others, and watching one take the baby away, and it got worse and worse until they attacked Hardhome.

Books were only going to get Jon so far, and hiding away hoping they could, was not going to save his people when the time comes. What was the point of calling himself their King, if he hides away in his castle?

Sam though, he asked the question Jon dreaded. The one he and Lord Howland ultimately argued over the day prior before Jon knew he would come to you about it. Sam asked what about you, if Jon goes beyond the Wall again and the answer was right there in his face and he knew he was asking too much of you but there was no other choice. “She's coming with me.”

The symbols, the signs, all pointing to the same place but it was the dream he had that was it. You had spoken of what they were like when so vivid. The question of when was answered easily in his mind.

You were a month pregnant, Jon had to do this now. He couldn't wait to make sure everything possible in the North was taken care of. You had to come with him, and Jon didn't know how long this would take. He knew how long it would take for the two of you and Ghost to get to the Frost Fangs, but nothing beyond that.

If he and you made it, Jon needed to ensure he got you back to Winterfell in time to birth your son here in these walls. But if you two weren't coming back, he didn't want you to get so far into your pregnancy that losing it again would feel like losing another child. Either you two made it to the Heart of Winter and back, or this ended when you both got there, but Jon had a plan in that case.

If he left in the next coming days he may be able to get you there before you reached five months, or just at that time. Meaning if this was it, at least you wouldn't be tormented knowing you got closer that time.

No matter what happened he told himself, you were still together. He'd have you, Ghost, and to whatever end it was, he'd have his son as well. But judging by what he had seen, that's what they wanted. They had without even the human words made it clear. Jon alone was not enough. But it finally was asked in that room, the pressing question. “What are you going to tell people?”

Whatever the answer to that Jon was trying to figure out, he knew he had to do what his brothers did for Sam. Thinking Gilly was dead, they all told him she could've made it out before the attack on Mole's Town. Jon didn't, he hadn't wanted to give Sam false hope. But he knew he was wrong. He understood why his brothers gave Sam that hope.

In fact, you had said it yourself. People need a selfish reason to keep going, otherwise they'll fear they are fighting for a lifeless cause. Jon wouldn't lie, but he knew it might be a mistake to tell them the degree of danger this might lead too. But if it ended without you all coming back, Jon at least needed them to understand that if he didn't come back, it was because the Others weren't coming either.

Jon wondered if this was how Bran felt. Knowing he had to go beyond the Wall regardless of the fear which may come and the danger he'd find. Bran had the bravery when he was a boy of eleven, so Jon as a man, had to have the same.

It had been the story of a Stark going beyond the Wall which did it. From his parting conversation with Stannis, to the entire ride returning to Winterfell that story stuck out in his mind. None knew what truly led to the end of the Long Night. They told stories of battle, but Jon had seen what battle with this army brought and it was only death.

The First Men had warred with the Children of the Forest for thousands of years until they had made a pact in peace to end it. He also knew that somehow, enough was understood between them, that only a man in Craster, had come to an arrangement that kept him and his wives safe, at the cost of any infant sons he had.

But if something needed to be exchanged for peace, Jon was not a man about to send the innocents he's fought to protect, to do it for him. He needed to do it himself. Jon knew too, it was why his Uncle Benjen had refused to let Jon even think of coming with him beyond the Wall. He was headed to the Frost Fangs, and was never seen again. But the Others were still coming, if his uncle survived or not, that hadn't been enough.

Jon knew, he needed to be enough now.

She was trying not to freak out, Jon and yourself could tell. Were she still just a young girl, likely Arya would have let herself be as emotional she felt but now it was trapped inside of her and fighting to not come out, to be brave. “You can't separate us now.”

Your silence remaining as calm as could be in the room, knowing the two of them could easily let this fly off the handle if one lost their cool. Meaning it was on your shoulders to prevent as such. “That isn't what this is. This is about survival.”

Her eyes wanting to shine with water, but held back. The sorrow however, remained. “We're family, we survive this together, not apart, not when I came back just to find-”

Jon moved from where he had been standing in front of her, moving Arya back some as he guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. Crouching in front of her so she could look more down at him this time, nothing but a steadfast assurance shined bright in his eyes. The low rasp just as comforting despite the words. “We need each other. To survive this winter together, but we can't do that when it's only us. Bran is still out there, Uncle Benjen is still out there. We aren't a family together if they're still trapped somewhere in the North.”

A quick glance up towards you, you were the collected confidence for her as Jon was the soothing support in front. He had been the calm one telling you, so you had to be the calm one as he tells her now. Arya's tone weak as she looked back to her brother pleading, “Can't I go with you? You know I can handle myself now-”

Shaking his head, Jon reached a hand up to cup the side of her head. “I need you here. These aren't just my people, they're yours too. So I need you to stay here, and lead them until I return.” Her head tried to tilt in beg, but did not wish to sacrifice the soothing feeling of his hand. Jon, read such words not needing spoken a single one out loud. Leaning in a bit more, his eyes more stern without anything harsh. “You're a Stark, and my sister. You're the only one I trust to take care of the North while I'm gone.”

It took Arya a good moment before nodding. Jon giving her the space then to breathe without moving away from her in proximity. Both of you felt the heaviness of leaving her behind here, but perhaps, you felt different because it wasn't the first time. Robb and yourself had this very conversation with Bran when you went south. But for the two of them now, it was the first time they've had to have this new dynamic of separation.

Walking a few steps forward, you came closer to where Jon knelt. The sensation of one hand of his gently wrapping around the shin closest to him with a warm caressing feeling. Neither of you quite sure if it was for you, or for his sake. “Everyone else is staying here, you'll have them to help you the whole way. Keep their spirits strong instead of letting it shatter, someone has to be here to ensure your people don't lose hope the longer we're gone. They need to believe, and you have to lead it.”

It cracked out in a desperation which Arya seemed to backtrack the moment it spit from her mouth. “When are you coming back?”

But Jon would not lie, not to her. “I don't know.” Don't let that thought shake you, you told yourself. A deep inhale, and Jons hand tightened on your shin. He felt the same. Stay strong in front of her, because she had to have hope to lead with it. A tender tone, low and calm as Jon used his other hand to gently hold at the back of her neck to make proper eye contact. “But we are coming back, Arya. This isn't a goodbye forever.”

Crackling of fire the only thing filling the room for a moment before a deep inhale finally smoothed out the scattering worry in her tone. Finding a confidence in her nod and a return of determination in her eyes. “You're right, it can't be forever. Because if you have to come back, then you also have to make sure you bring Bran back.”

A small chuckle left Jon, pulling one from her as swell. The ease of which made them look almost as young as they were when they first had to part ways for a long time. By the time a hug was shared, you however, begun to feel the opposite. Your own goodbyes were not going to be as simple or heartfelt.

Some were easier then others.

Gendry had the exact reaction you expected. He was a Baratheon in blood after all. And what did Baratheons do best towards one another? Get angry and yell. “So your fathers in the North where at any moment he could find me again, and when I actually find a different person in this family I don't hate, you take off too?”

The narrowing in your eyes was almost childishly annoyed, but so was his anger. Neither of you were really approaching this with a formality, but then again, none in your family did that correct. “Stannis has no reason to come to Winterfell, and by chance he does, go wandering through Winter Town. He won't step foot in there, he doesn't have the patience for how crowded it is.” Glancing down you could tell his hand was twitching by the hammer. “I can't tell if you're currently thinking about using that on my father, or me.”

Looking between, Gendry all but tossed it back down a foot or so away from him. Turning from you to grab at a rag by the mostly empty armoury by that point. “I'm still deciding.”

Sighing, you glanced around and walked further into the space to avoid the trailing ears which might be struck by curiosity. Whispering more as you barrelled into his space to swiftly move in front of him, cutting off his path to force him to face you. “You wish to be angry I'm leaving, that is your right. But this has nothing to do with taking off or leaving you behind. I have to do this, and you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”

Breathing out, the breath cold enough for both of you it flowed visibly after each word or exhale, even beside the warmth of the hearth. His tone was irritated, but his expression spoke that of something far less with said intention. “Fine. But you have to promise me you'll come back. It can't just be me and your father left, that's a disaster waiting to happen.”

Neither but you two quite grasped what had made the Queen in the North and the new blacksmith laugh so genuinely in the quiet with one another, but it was easy for you two all the same. You could see her face though, and despite the awareness that Jon would not like it if he knew this, you had to press on something anyways. “Take care of Arya while we're gone. She'll pretend like she is handling it better then she's going to really feel, and she will need someone who cares about her at her side more then ever.”

Nodding with a seriousness, you held back that splurge of questions and thoughts. Teasing him was not the time, and it wouldn't be for a good while. Gendry was as serious as ever. “I will. I'll look after the kid too. Don't imagine he'll be too happy about this.”

No one was. Not you, Jon, Arya, none. But there was no use in not doing something because it didn't fit your idea of a perfect life. You had never had that, and neither had Jon. Until the snows stopped, you wouldn't get a proper chance to start it, so you would suffer until the end.

Theon though, you had no idea where to start. What to say. Out of everyone you had not wished to truly leave behind again, it was him. He was the only reason you even were alive beyond that horrored year coming back. The only thing that kept you going in any meaningful way because as pathetic as states you both were in, you were all the other had.

If by the slow approach you had walked into the room with didn't say enough, it was the quiet dismissal of his men from the room which spoke volumes. Or the quiet closing of the door as you leaned against it, hands crossing your front. But he knew you well at this point.

Well enough that it was bad news, and news he wasn't going to be part of. “Just say it.”

Your eyes flickered up from nothing back to him, and you hesitated. Mouth opening and closing a number of times before sighing. Walking in as you without any proper decorum, walked to the table he had been hovering around.

The guilt was heavy, and you hated that on the outside, he seemed to take it the best. But he also didn't quite take it with much emotion either. He wasn't saying it, but Theon had suspected something like this was coming and if there was any proof he was as much a Stark as Greyjoy, he had down the pattern of Starks withholding their emotions to remain distant in the face of hardship.

You wished he would get upset, because if you didn't come back, you knew Theon enough he would be the guilty one leaving things this way. But as it was, he refused to give anything away. He kept it as inside as you were. It was the easiest, but it was also the worst. “Theon-”

He had cut you off hardly through your explanation, he had heard enough and you felt something shatter in the degree to which he was instantly shutting you out. “I heard you, your grace.”

You two stood across the room from one another, and he wouldn't even look your way, not at the silence as you looked wide eyed at his distance or the shattering in your heart that the one person you needed to talk this through with, responded so badly he wouldn't even look at you.

He had turned to you after a breath, “Is there anything else?”

Oh there were many, but not a single one he wanted to hear. In a single conversation, the only one you had relied on for months had shut you out in one fell swoop. If you were still teenagers, you would've stood there arguing with him until you understood each other, but you wouldn't argue now and he knew it.

The night had found itself in a close, and just as it was going to be for a good while, eventually there was none left but you and Jon. “There really isn't any other way?”

Your eyes pleaded with him, the inevitable would come but he had the advent of being stronger at keeping the same dread more inside. He stayed calm so he could too calm you, sitting next to you on the bed he was sure as anything. He hadn't thought of this fleetingly, it had been on his mind a while now and there was no more mistake of it.

Running a hand along the hair at the side of your head, Jon let it drift to cup your cheek as he leaned in to you, you doing the same as your own hands found his shoulders and back of his neck. “We both know we have to do this.” Nodding your head, barley contained was a swallowing of something too fearful close to the surface. Jon shifted quickly, cupping both of your cheeks to gently guide you to look back up at him. His tone soft and eyes even softer, despite it all nothing but love sat in the greys. “All my life I've tried to protect you, and you gave me a new life to finally do just that. But if we don't do this, I won't be able to protect you no matter what.”

Running along the back of his neck, a choking feeling was overwhelming your senses as much as Jons very presence so close soothed them. Breathing out what wanted to be a cry, Jon pressed your forehead to his, running one hand once more along the hair at the back of your head as your fingers found his curls. Whispering gently, “So far only one person’s ever come back before.”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon still kept your own fear at bay. “Maybe we'll be the second.” A laugh in a single huff left you, bringing a far brighter one out of Jon. Grey eyes bright as he looked better at you, the hand on your cheek letting his thumb run across the soft skin he found. “I know you're scared, darling. I promise I am too, but if this is what they want, we have to give it to them. I told you we belong together, you, me, our son, all three of us belong together, even if it’s out there. If they wanted me alone-”

Shaking your head, you grasped onto the curls loose around him tighter, Jon shifting to keep you close as well. “You can't go alone. You told me I have to let you protect me, right? You can't do that if we're apart can you?”

Jon only smiled the slightest bit, the thumb on your cheek drifting to your lips with a gentle murmur. “No, I can't.”

Inhaling deeply, you finally looked up at him. Nothing ever but the man you love. You were brought back scared and alone in this world, and only found purpose when you brought Jon back too. You knew, you had to risk it. There was not a single guarantee you both would come back, but Jon had told you. Maybe you two were always supposed to fight this battle together. Even if you were going to be marching into your last before your new lives had a chance, but you'd do it together.

“Do you know what you're going to say tomorrow?”

Jon nodded, moving from beside you on the bed to pulling you up with him. This time, the manner in which he handled you was only gentle. Far from the roughness of the other nights acts, but you had a feeling Jon had planned it this way. Tease with roughness in your last days, and spend the final in Winterfell with the last true gentleness you both will face for months.

Undoing the laces keeping your layers together, he rasped in your ear. “Mostly. I've written a raven for your father. Ser Davos had said he would tell him, but I thought he should hear it from one of us as well.” Your eyes fluttering shut, a lightness in your chest lulling you into something relaxing as you sounded almost a tad breathless. Jon so carefully taking things off of you without any rush.

You should have felt more concerned at what your father would think, but in truth you knew it was safer not too. You and Jon were doing this no matter what, it didn't matter who disapproved. It was to protect them all from what seemed like the end no matter what. “And what about your new best friend?”

Jon paused for a moment, no doubt his face twisting in confusion as he looked over your shoulder, until the hint of an amused smile was sat on your lips. Chuckling deep in your ear, Jon once more moved back to undressing your heavy layers. “He can't get the North to be more neutral then if I'm not even around to side against him in the first place. And I know you're joking but,” His hands pulled down at the material now loose at your torso, letting it fall as the first to go. Gently grabbing your hips he rasped in your ear. “I already have a best friend, and I married her.”

Heart skipping a beat before floating within your chest, you leaned back into his touch which was so perfectly warm against your back, as you reached across your stomach to hold at the opposite sides hand on your hip while the other reached behind you to gently graze your nails at the skin on the back of his exposed neck. “This is normally the part where I’d ask who the lucky girl was, but I'm not sure if you used to have another proper friend that was a girl besides myself.”

Pressing his chest more against you, Jon somewhat tried to tug you closer. His face leaning down to lay a single kiss below your ear as his breath danced hot across it. “That's because the only girl who gave me the time of day, was the beautiful Baratheon one who tortured me for years.” Questioning the word tortured with a laugh, Jon laughed right back. The sound of it, now that was the truly beautiful thing. “First time I saw you, I wanted to throw up thinking I was going to have to live with such a pretty girl in my home. And then I thought that every single time you came back for almost eight years.”

Quick on the draw you leaned your head back against him relaxed, contrasting to the jest in your teasing finally slipping through. “What, did a new pretty girl come through Winterfell to catch your eye then?” You had no doubt he both was smirking, and rolling his eyes at you simultaneously.

Jon didn't even bother entertaining you on that one, muttering in a mocking of irritation, “May I continue?” Waiting enough for a nod, Jon returned to attending properly to you. Pulling the sleeve of your dress down one arm then the other, he pushed at the material to also drop down to the pool by your feet.

Little left, you swiftly turned in his arms. Your hands grasping at his sides, leaning up to meet his lips with an innocence. “Your turn.” Just a short and chaste kiss, you felt him try to chase you on it before you went right for the belt normally keeping his weapons all on him.

It was always quiet when you did this part with him. You undressing him from the day, whereas Jon found things to talk with you about when he did yours. You were never sure why, maybe it was being used to the familiarity that Robb normally took the reigns in your struggle of such consistent conversation, or perhaps you were more used to the silence between Jon and yourself.

Taking as much care as he did you, it struck you in a flash of your mind how much you were going to miss this. Everything was going to be different soon, and you were sure clothes for that sort of cold did not include gentle intimacy in the undressing procedure. You felt somehow prepared by Jons side yet entirely blind as to what you truly were about to walk in on.

How much this would set you apart should you not be ready to handle yourself that far North. You felt uncomfortable the second it came into your mind, that shade of red. Comparing to that wasn't fair to what she truly was towards Jon, but it poked at your mind all the same. Would the ability to compare change the light he saw you both in?

Not having realized the narrowing in your face as you got him to his final, softest, simple layers did you move from him naturally to put some of his things across his desk. He didn't even want you walking around with anything more then a small knife at this point, would you be a burden if he had to do everything for you out there?

No doubt she didn't need Jon to do things for her basic survival.

You almost shook your head thinking about it, not quite noticing the wide eyed curiosity trained on your every move as Jon stepped towards you carefully. Once, twice he called your name but it was the gentle pull of two fingers at your cheek turning you to face him that did it. His eyes soft without the judgment you worried of. “Where's that beautiful head of yours gone off to?”

Then came that clearer doubt. The way he looked at you? It was foolish to think he'd turn heel and think you useless now of all times. Your insecurities always so desperate to compare yourself to what you feared they should like better. Almost slipping right before Jon, the thought that from what little such visions showed you, she was so very clearly much prettier and fitter then you. Even now, especially the longer you and Jon were out there.

Shaking your head though, you always felt guilty when you did this. You knew what she had done, and still you worried as if she was something ever good to him. He rarely talked about her though, sometimes it was difficult to fill in the blank spaces of your knowledge without the worry of not matching up taking up that mantle.

Jons hands pushed away your thoughts as he dragged the sleeves of your shift, thin on your shoulders and the second your hands were free of what you had been holding, Jon wasted not a second in pushing them down your arms. The silky material slipping easily after such a movement, only to have Jon kneel slightly down to pull the rest hiding you from him off, his hot breath tickling your shivering skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your mound, then your hipbone, and finally so gently on your scar.

Pulling back, Jon held at your hips to keep you both steady but he only looked at it. Still, there was nothing there. You would be well into the cold wilderness by the time there was anything to look at, but it did not seem to matter to Jon at all. Not disturbing him, you carefully moved to let loose his curls, raking your fingers through to smooth out them out. Voice only a whisper, you tried to coax him back to you. “She's too small to sense you're there yet.”

Leaning forward, Jon pressed another gentle kiss before standing up. Cupping your cheeks he pulled you into a deep, but soft kiss. Barley pulling away with a smile in his voice, “That doesn't mean I won't try. Maester Luwin had said that babies in their mothers wombs can can hear her voice, which means he might be able to hear my voice eventually too. I want him to get used to it.”

You tried pulling away with a shake of your head. “Well, I'm sure she will love that.”

“He will.”

You weren't sure yet if this was just a game between you both. Yourself insisting on a girl, and Jon insisting he already knows it's a boy. Running your hands under the material of his shirt, they rested against his torso almost comfortingly. Feeling some of the scars under your palms, it got a little better each time knowing they were there without that gut wrenching feeling of horror.

Catching your eyes as he pulled back, Jons eyes were bright, painted with something far too soft to handle as he looked at you. A deep rasp as he pressed another kiss to your lips before mumbling against them. “Let me take you in front of the fire tonight.”

By the time you had even knelt on the soft fur in front of his fire, everything on him had already come off swiftly. The differences of such earlier days in your youth compared to now, were night and day. A wave of nerves would come from both of you, not yet confident enough to take anywhere near significant amount of clothes off in front of the other. And yet now, there wasn't the air of a confident man, but merely one comfortable in his own skin when alone with his wife, bare as you were in the cold, winter air but not even slightly bothered by it.

Already, his thick cock was hard and ready, as if it took nothing to work him up to such a state and yet Jon swiftly moved to sit with you down on the fur. Ignoring that by this point, most men would already expect you to take care of them in such a state. But he only ran his hand along the strands of hair by the side of your head, gentle eyes with a hint of an adoring smile easy on his face.

A gentle rasp as he also moved his thumb to brush briefly at your cheek. “All my life I've wanted to have this with you. My wife, the mother of my children, being able to just be together here in our home.” The hand not somewhat keeping you sat upright in place, reached to grasp at his wrist. Thumb running just along his strong, steady pulse.

Leaning to brush your nose against his, Jon returned the gesture right back as you murmured to him. “And we have that, right now we have that. And no matter what happens, we will always have had this together.”

The hand in your hair moved to cup the back of your head, pressing your forehead to his. “I want to tell you I know we're coming back, believe me, I do. I hate that I might be taking all of this way from you for a second time. You don't deserve this.” But you shook your head.

Taking turns easing the others woes it now was in your palms. Your hands resting along his neck and collarbones, running up and down hoping it was anyway soothing. “We deserve to be with each other. We deserve to be together, and we always will be.” You hesitated, but in truth there was no reason to hide it from Jon of all people. “Robb and I promised we'd stay together, and we didn't get that chance. I came back without him, but you have me and I have you. I won't let that slip away this time. Where you go, I go. No matter the path.”

Furrowing his brow, Jon struggled to mutter out, “Does it make me selfish for wanting that?” The answer of no on your lips was so easy you knew it took Jon off guard. Inhaling, he shifted. Pushing your back against the soft furs, as his top half now hovered over you, one hand beside each side of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good. I've let you go too many times, I'm not allowing you to walk away ever again.”

Barley getting it out before his lips captured yours again, you whispered, “Sounds rather possessive.”

Another kiss pressed to your lips, “I'm a wolf, darling.” Another kiss, deeper that time, and his voice dropping lower then before in desire. “I've been possessive of you since I spent three days and nights taking care of you.” Finally pressing most of his top half down over you, Jon properly kissed you, deepening it without a chance of easing you into it.

For once though, it was not done with greed. It felt more of need. A need shared between two souls desperate to stay together, losing parts of themselves each time they were forced apart, and now the need to stay together overwhelmed until it burned like the fire blazing beside you.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and the back of his neck. One hand raking through his curls, pushing some as you did so, out of his way as he kissed you. The other side, tickling long what it brushed of your skin, as Jon guided you to stay with his pace.

Stealing your breaths and sighs, he kept all of them to himself. Brushing his tongue along your bottom lip before ever so gently sliding in your mouth the moment you parted for him. Shifting so his body properly now hovered over you, running his tongue along yours gently before pulling back. You chased his lips just as Jon was weak enough to come back on his own for more, unwilling to part too soon.

One hand now keeping him propped up, the other running down your side before wrapping behind you. Pressing against the small of your back, Jon arched you up into him as he leaned down more to you, switching between licking into your mouth and letting his kiss turn somewhat sloppy simply unable to pull away from you each time a small whine broke from your lips.

One of your legs moved up as he arched you more into his chest, rising up along his hip he instead slid that same hand down to wrap around your thigh, keeping you hoisted up by your lower half now into his. His cock brushing against your inner thigh and core, but he seemed to ignore it despite each feeling sparking something tingling in the spot begging to be touched more.

Now leaning a bit more on his knees, Jon used the leverage to cup the back of your neck and keeping you pressed against his kiss. The greed still not there as much as an urgency deepening it as all could be heard was the fire crackling beside you both and your breathing running harsher with every passing brush of your lips together.

Slowly before you could truly notice it seemed, Jon begun to raise the leg his arm held to him higher and higher. Barley tearing himself from your lips enough, you could see the saliva connecting you both snap as his lips parted in a breathless need as he dragged your leg so your thigh sat up over his shoulder. Not giving you the chance to protest, Jon did the same with the other and held each there over his shoulders with both strong arms. Kissing down from the stretched position he had you in, between your breasts and long your stomach and scar before reaching your mound once again.

Pressing his forehead against it, Jon shamelessly groaned. As husking of his voice he sounded it too was slurred by what felt like ramblings of an accent so thick Jon likely didn't even notice he said anything, but you heard it muttered against you as hot as his breath was. “Gods, I love the way you taste..”

Before you could breathlessly point out he hadn't done anything yet, Jon kissed down to your clit. As if teasing and licking and kissing as if it were your breasts, Jon barley cared about any patterns or even any decorum. He sucked and nibbled at it with such a sloppiness it made you far more worked up and wet for him then even before.

Greed was when he held your hips to his mouth, this was a need of something too raw inside of Jon for words to express. Licking at your clit until your back arched, but Jons firm grip on your thighs over his shoulders kept most of you in place. Hands spread beside you trying to grasp at the short furs below you, gasps and small whines of need high pitched from your mouth with pleases you did not understand what for.

Burning from your clit up into your core and stabbed like an edged blade through your blood stream but you couldn't keep grounded long enough to try and let the fire inside simmer. The embers blazed in the wind right to igniting wild in you, a coil twisting so quickly as Jon ran his tongue desperately along your clit before slowly making his way down just enough to tease you before coming right back up to the bundle of nerves.

Something growling in Jons chest vibrated against you, finally causing one hand to reach down. Grasping at his curls the only thing which dragged you out of the darkness and so much more at his mercy. “Oh gods, Jon please..”

Eyes so dark they were nearly black, Jon almost glared up at you before grunting as he sucked at your clit harshly. The gasp leaving you so high pitched and so desperate, it had him nearly rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he returned to you, even just taking care of your clit he felt out of his mind at how much he adored it.

In a split second, Jons hands gripped your legs tightly as if he could sense it. Arching unknowingly into his mouth, your clit felt as if it took that spark of fire and burned it right through you with more begs of Jons name. Hardly as your orgasm begun, did Jon run his tongue flat along your folds and deeply buried himself proper into your cunt just as you grew that much more wet around his now desperate for the taste, tongue to lick along your walls inside of you.

Cries without words pouring from you, his hair a lifeline keeping you tethered to the ground and not floating into the air away forever but he kept running his mouth and tongue so deeply inside of you, tasting your wetness with a grunting sound and yanking your legs more up to his mouth. His dark curls all you could see as he held you to lean down more into your cunt with a vigour.

Not letting you go, he drank deeply from you as if consumed by the taste, an unwillingness to ease up despite your breath not having caught up. The high feeling in your mind as if you hadn't truly come down yet and Jon growling words you would not hear into your cunt made you that much worse, but you'd never protest against him.

His facial hair burned raw against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but it mixed with the warm wetness of his tongue brushing deep inside of you with need. A contrast that had your eyes fluttering closed unable to handle seeing beyond what of his dark curls were buried between your legs, holding you to him.

It twisted inside of you faster and faster then you could convey with words but you knew you must have been soaking his mouth as he was soaking your core with every drink he refused to give up. No effort Jon even had to put forth before he dragged you to your finish so soon after the first you felt tears forming as you burned from within. Growling more into your cunt, Jon refused to let you go even after your orgasm settled and the ringing in your ears left.

Not until he was satisfied, hands tighter and tighter, bruises would be left on you by the morning but he could not seem to pull away. He never refused your peak, he dragged you from one to the next with babbling pleads of his name which Jon took as a beg for mercy, and proceeded to deny any semblance of it. One to the next, you felt your heart straining at how much you could not be allowed to come down.

You had no concept of how much time had even passed by the time he pulled away. More then five he had given you, but you weren't sure beyond that. The fog in your head taken over by his touch. Shoving your legs off of him wide, Jon spared no time in pulling from your core and rising up to press you back into the furs. Hands sliding underneath you to grasp at your ass, one handful roughly in each of his large hands as he licked his way into your mouth. Gifting you the taste he had taken from you over and over in the long time he kept you there.

Not pulling away enough to keep his lips from brushing against yours Jon rambled, “I'm bringing you home, alright? I promised you a son, and you promised me a daughter. So I'm bringing you home, darling. No matter what, we're coming home and we'll have as many as you want.” Nodding against him, you cupped both of his cheeks and surged back to seek his lips again.

Barley convincing himself to let go of your ass long enough to shift along you. Lining up his leaking, throbbing cock with the core he had soaked you to, Jon growled against your lips once more. “We didn't come back for this to be the end.”

Nodding, you cried out as soon as the burn stretched you. Sliding his thick cock deep inside of you, your walls tight and warm and knowing despite that you gave him no resistance from how utterly soaking you were. Muttering to his kiss, “I love you.”

Moving his hands, Jon once more pulled a thigh up to his hip, the other grasping at a hand in his hair and pushing it down beside your head. Interlocking his fingers with yours he gazed down at you with dark eyes. Your face twisted in a pleasure he could not look way from, as his own jaw clenched trying to keep himself together.

Sliding so smoothly in and out of you, Jons cock was so soaked that were you to hear it over your own breathless cries you'd have been embarrassed. Dragging slowly, you almost wanted to beg him to speed up, but the sheer prospect of it made you just as upset were he to change how gentle and slow he moved what so ever.

Keeping your eyes on his, something sensitive along your walls Jon moved against so steadily each time he thrusted slow back inside of you, dragging you back into a burning desire all over again but without the words to speak such a desperate language beyond begs of his name.

Nodding down at your need, Jon leaned back down to capture your lips. Murmuring between kisses to ramble, his own face twisting, jaw clenching and a groan wanting to leave his mouth each time he slid as deep as you could take him at a cruelly slow pace. “I love you so much.”

Biting your lip as a whine wanted to slip by, the twisting of a coil inside you so tight that it would snap in a single second at any point you felt your eyes sting at the pleasure his cock could only ever show you alone. “I'll always love you, I'm yours, gods I promise I'll always be yours..”

His hips sinking into you so deeply, both your bodies with a sheen of sweat not even from the fire, but he pressed his forehead to yours. Never allowing himself to go rougher, or pick up the pace he nodded against you before pulling himself up. Keeping your back flat, he let go of your hand to hold both your hips. Watching his cock at the slow speed sink deeply inside of your cunt, and each time as slow he pulled out of you and the amount you soaked his cock Jon closed his eyes rambling nothing but swears rough and harsh in his throat before looking back. Each drag of Jons cock inside and of you was as deep as he could sink and pulling out almost entirely but the tip before once more gliding back inside.

Never sped up, never got rougher, and it wasn't even lust in his eyes, almost a wonder as Jon watched his length disappear deep inside of you. As if even now, he could not believe this was his. But it was, and you wanted him to always take you exactly when and how he wished. You would hand your body over for his pleasure only if Jon had asked that of you, and you'd never fight him for it. You'd offer yourself up to be something to touch and fuck for his own need and he was the only man you'd beg to do to you as such.

But he wouldn't want you to say that, so you tried to gently match his pace, dropping his head and gripping your hips more firmly. It took a strain on his muscles to never change his gentle slow push inside of you, and how he almost regretted each time he came close to pulling out. “You're perfect darling, you've been so good for me..my perfect, beautiful wife..mother of my children..”

Jon did himself in, groaning with his head dropping and eyes sealing closed. Jons cock throbbed warm inside of you, but it was not too early nor late. Opening his eyes, Jon watched you with almost too innocent of eyes for what he was doing. Dragging you right along that line with him, you clenched around him just as Jon sunk as deep as he could inside of you. Covering your body with his and pressing his lips in need to yours, Jon finally let go as well.

Spilling his seed deep inside of you as you were so tight cumming around him, it was as if he couldn't leave your warm walls. Not that Jon wanted too, at all. Pouring his cum thick inside of you, he knew coming home was necessary. He needed this for the rest of his life, and not short either. He needed this for as long as he could and not a second sooner. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and curls he hid his face in your neck as soon as he moved from your lips as you leaned to hide in his hair.

Slow thrusts moving to nearly nothing but Jon never let up. His cock still so slow inside of you, making you shake and cry gently in his ear as much as he wanted to keep cumming inside of you.

Once more, Jon wasn't sure how long he was inside of you that night. But pressed against one another on the furs in his chamber in front of the fire? Neither of you could think a better way then to slowly take one another until sleep found you.

Jon only pulling out once you were asleep, and carrying you gently to the bed. As soon as he had climbed in beside you, you curled into his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around you. Unlike many times before, sleep found Jon easy. Relaxed in your embrace as you were nuzzled into his chest, neither of you for once, dreamed of any sort.

They had all debated if they agreed with it.

Arguing back and forth what they thought should truly be done and there was none who found such firm ways to think on it. Claims that the King and Queen in the North should stay in the North, but once more it could only be argued back that the it's the North all the same, he's the one who has been there and knows how to survive out there.

There were more crammed into that meeting hall then ever before to hear it, and the plans laid out but Jon gave no room to give the idea he could be convinced otherwise. “The answers don't lay here, it's out there. And it's waiting for us to come their way. But if we only stand here, don't do everything we can to protect our people, they'll come for us anyways. When dead men and worse come hunting for us in the night, is the King you want to stand by one who holes up in his castle? Hiding behind high walls as their army turns our homes into a graveyard?”

Whispers had begun to spread. They didn't have to like it, but they had to accept this was necessary. They had to accept that they named Jon their King, and a King does everything in his power to fight for his Kingdom. No matter the cost.

You would leave to Castle Black, Jon knew the best of paths from there and he made it clear to everyone in that meeting hall once the tunnel was closed behind him, none were to follow for any reason. “If I bring an army at my back, they'll fight us like an army. And we cannot afford that, not anymore. I need all of you here, protecting the ones you love. Not dying beyond the Wall where your bodies will be burned and left behind.” Your name coming confident from his mouth, you had stood by him as sure as he and they all needed you too. “We will find the answers beyond the Wall ourselves, not sending out people into their deaths to do it for us. And I will find my little brother, and your children too. Meera and Jojen Reed, Brandon Stark, wherever they are, we will find them and bring them home too.”

By the time you had reached Castle Black, it had been nowhere near the week long scramble to escape the last time had been. Hardly any had come, but the spectacle in the courtyard of was loud and busy as things were swiftly prepared. It was Tormunds home you were venturing into, and he was the last to see you both off with a goodbye.

The North had pled that they needed their King, but as you both walked through to where the tunnel's gate awaited to rise, you both had the confidence they needed to see regardless of what end this path led too.

They wanted their King and Queen with them in the North, Jon and you wanted to be home together to start a true family as you scarcely dreamed of having, but the white cold was approaching, and the dead with would ride with it. Jon had put it in the perfect terms to his people, regardless of wants and fears of what you were leaving behind.

He said it exactly as Jeor Mormont once said it to him, because the Old Bear was never more right about it, then now. “I will not stand meekly by and wait for the snows.”

Jon had gone to see his father, and perhaps the last time, see the mother he never had a chance to know. She had watched over him his whole life here, but she couldn't now, and Jon had to hope she knew at the least, however much she loved him in the short time they had with each other, he'd never forget the short time as a man he's known he was her son. A final goodbye to Rickon resting peacefully by their father, Jon had said goodbye to him too.

Jon wasn't a man of many words, but he hoped Eddard Stark understood, he was still now and forever, the only father Jon had, wanted or needed.

You nor Jon knew when you would come back, or what you would even find once you reached the heart of winter the Others called from. But you would find out one way or another, be it peace or death, you would find out. Your purpose was Jon, but Jons was his people. And a King did everything in his power to protect his people regardless of his life, or yours. Both of you on a horse, and standing tall beside Jon with Ghost doing the same. Follow Jon to whatever ends this led.

The tunnel gates opened, and you, Ghost, and the White Wolf by your side, finally did not look back.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

[catofoldstones]

The thing about arya fans' argument that arya comes before sansa in the line of succession because robb disinherited her because of her forced marriage is the underlying misogyny and victim blaming of it, and their assumption that grrm thinks the same. We don't have jon [you know the actual person robb chose over sansa, and i think its time we start talking that the will specifically was about sansa and jon and that shit means something narratively] asserting that winterfell belongs to sansa despite everything and him not falling to the bait of stannis calling her a lannister, to just assume that according to grrm what robb did was OK. If people actually think grrm wants to show robb was right and girls truly are not important and thus his disinheritance of his sister's rights will be upheld, then they need their heads checked. Its not like he showed us that jaehaerys's sexism was what led to death of the dragons and downfall of targaryens even though grrm considers him a good ruler. Ultimately, catelyn will be validated when brienne saves either sansa or arya with oathkeeper and sansa will become lady of winterfell/qitn DESPITE robb's will. He [and arya fans] can suck it.

Hi soulmate anon,

Before we start, I have to let you know that one our previous posts was screenshotted and circulated in the arya stans circles because “we’re spreading our agenda on a neutral public platform” or something along those lines. Idk if you’ve seen that or not but I had to let you know before we go off kicking another hornet’s nest lol.

Anyway, that out of the way, to the Arya stans who are so hellbent upon removing Sansa from the Stark succession, Robb declared Jon as his heir, pushing Sansa further down the line (not disinheriting her jesus fuck) because through her Tyrion may lay claim to Winterfell, landing it in the hands of the Lannisters, exactly what Robb and Cat are trying to prevent. Robb didn’t “disinherit” Arya because he thought she was dead. Hope that helps.

WAIT!

the will being specifically about Jon and Sansa and that we need to start thinking about that narratively

SCREAM

Okay, I have now moved on (I have not). Though please feel free to talk about this more, I wanna know more. Guess I’ll now have to add jonsa tag to this answer hehe :P

I mean Robb did come from a place of “authority over the female members of his family” here with the will and that’s exactly the kind of thing we have to side eye. Taking it at face value and uncritically thinking about it is not a fair way to engage with the text I feel. You’re right when Jon himself reiterates Sansa’s claim over Winterfell, we are supposed to think twice whether Robb’s action was equitable or not. Stannis calls Sansa “Lady Lannister” to coax Jon into staking a claim over Winterfell so that Stannis gets a good reason to march to Winterfell and attack the Boltons (which he will anyway, but Jon’s, a member of the Stark family, support would mean political backing and reason). If we fall in the trap that Stannis thinks Sansa is now a Lannister, and therefore she is now a Lannister with no claim to Winterfell, then we’ve lost the plot and are coming from the same misogynistic hypocrisy (he wants Shireen on the throne if he dies but calls Sansa a Lannister, how does that work old man?) that destroys Westeros (your Jaehaerys example). And are no different from a crusty medieval era middle aged man btw.

It’s so fucking funny when the readers start emulating the same sexism that the author wants them to critique, and then start calling themselves feminists because they’re supporting a woman’s rights! Which woman’s rights besties? Because the one that clearly has them, you’re actively against her staking her claim. Wait till they read the books with their eyes open and realise that Arya comes at the end of the heirs to winterfell list, despite Sansa getting “disinherited” lmao. And I love Robb, he’s just a boy trying to do his best, but he truly made mistakes, especially with not listening to Catelyn. We also cannot deny the undercurrent of misogyny and chauvinism that Robb demonstrated with the will. Re Sansa’s rights and Jon’s decision to be with the Nights Watch. I will patiently wait for Catelyn to be validated and Sansa to be the Lady/QiTN not only because that subverts reader’s expectations and Westerosi patriarchal standards but because I want to see Sansa antis have a grand old meltdown.

#soulmate anon #asoiaf #anti arya stans #pro sansa stark #sansa stark #jon snow #robb stark #jonsa #anon your mind #anon asks t #long post don’t look

[daenysthedreamer101]

#asoiaf #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #house stark #house lannister #house martell #robb stark #jon snow #I know Jon is a bastard but idc he's cute #jaime lannister #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #harwin strong #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #asoiaf polls #got polls #harwin breakbones #I know harwin would treat me well

[kudriaken]

House Stark. New fanart family portrait from ASOIAF. My favorite cute beans.

#artists on tumblr #fantasy art #illustrators on tumblr #illustration #fanart #house stark #asoif/got #asoif fanart #asoiaf #game of thrones #sansa stark #arya stark #john snow #robb stark #bran stark #rickon stark #ned stark #catelyn stark

[reneewalkersknives]

one egregious thing the game of thrones show misses out on is that the stark kids are CONSTANTLY thinking abt each other!! there isn’t like a single POV chapter from any of them where they don’t long for their siblings!! Jon wants to have a son and name him Robb!! Bran wants to be a bird so him and his siblings can live in a nest together!! Sansa prays for her siblings every night and makes the Winterfell castle and then gets upset bc there’s no one to throw snow at!! Needle IS Jon!! Arya’s list is her own prayer for her siblings, she doesn’t care that Joffrey is dead bc Robb is too!! Every single one of them believes that their big brother will come to save them!! there’s sm love and tenderness there and GOT missed out on lots of it bc it tries too hard for the grimdark angle without realising that the center of the stark’s story is their love for each other. anyways.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #anti game of thrones #starklings #robb stark #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #bran stark #sorry Robb and rickon Ik ur love ur siblings too but I only did ones with POV chapters😭 #stark family

[cypressure]

firstborn son

#digital art #procreate #furry #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #fanart #robb stark

[laurellerual]

I'm in a redesign mood lately, so here some Stark crests!

Here the old ones: Eddard, Catelyn, Jon, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.

#asoiaf #house stark #asoiaf fanart #arya stark #jon snow #sansa stark #bran stark #robb stark #rickon stark #eddard stark #catelyn stark #Which one do you prefer? #Maybe I should do stikers of them

[chucktaylorupset]

I think there's something to be said for fanfiction that loves canon in a way that’s rude. Like thank you for this wonderful thematic tragedy made out of this character’s entire arc ending in death, it was emotionally and intellectually moving, but also fuck you fuck you fuck you they live, this time and every time they live, they never died, their flaws are not their undoing, actually they have no flaws, actually they save everyone, actually who cares about a story, any story, where this one dies, actually i cared about that story so much i made a new one, actually i cared so much i unmade the old one, you gave me morals and i left them for the mortal, but they’re mine now and i will never let them die, actually thank you, actually fuck you, strongly worded letter to follow

A kiss for canon and spit in its face all at once, it’s great

#my post #i use and plan to use the 'canonical character death tag' WAY too much to post this but still #fanfiction #everybody live nobody dies au #and a five #this is about your blorbo absolutely but before that it was about #robb stark #to crown him is to kill him #on the one hand he must die because there are no good kings #king of the north was the death knell of robb the good brother robb the good son robb the loving friend #on the other hand #he was the nicest sixteen year old in the world #on the other hand fuck you there sits the only king i mean to bend my knee too #what if king was just a name for a brother who loved you #love that story of thematic importance about the inherent devastation of feudalism #but fuck you he's perfect and he lives #fuck you let him be soft and let him be mine #in general im against sandpapering your blorbos but actually my blorbos are soft and round and perfect #boubas if you will #and who cares if theyre a little unrecognizable #the version of them that gets to live #resurrection and comes back wrong but with the multiverse of what if they lived fanfiction

[befooremoonrisee]

the way in which jon and robb's futures are foreshadowed by the mother of the other: robb dying too young and becoming a ghost that haunts their siblings, a reminder of innocence and happier days, and jon dying and being brought back to life, a shadow of what he once was, a dark mirror to himself

#cat stark is jon's real mother as in mother of the narrative #you know how sansa and arya are foils because sansa is ned with cat's looks and arya is cat with ned's looks #robb is lyanna with cat's looks and jon is cat with lyanna's looks #asoiaf #house stark #cat stark #robb stark

[winterprince601]

"he was never unfaithful to robert, was he?" - jaime, acok

ha. ha ha ha. the irony of this line is incredible. what's so striking to me is how one dimensional the realm's understanding of eddard stark as an honourable man is - honour itself is an incredibly complicated and unattainable ideal in asoiaf and i think ned as the stereotypical emblem of it encompasses many of the reasons why. because whilst he absolutely does consider acting in a conventionally honourable way important, he always prioritises those he loves. he defended cat's actions as his own without a second thought when she arrested tyrion. his main priority in king's landing is to see his daughters safe, not to secure the succession. lyanna is the prime example: jon's existence is not the result of the lapse of honourable ned stark, it was honourable ned stark choosing his love for his sister over his duty to his king. that and his personal ethical belief that the political murder of a child is never morally acceptable.

no one in the realm has the insight into his personality we get in the first book. none of his children, vitally, understand that he would always prioritise their safety over any honourable scruples. all of the starklings question what their honourable father would think of their actions - killing in self-defence, marrying jeyne westerling, sleeping with ygritte to name a few examples - without recognising that ned's true first priority was always his family's safety.

in fact, he betrayed robert far more than he ever betrayed cat and he would have betrayed honour for his family's safety every time.

#eddard stark #ned stark #i count dany and ned's resistance to her assassination as a betrayal as well btw #because not only was this a moment in which her killing could be contrived as honourable and ned said no thanks acc #but he was absolutely projecting his love for jon onto her #he could not stand by if it was his innocent son/nephew #asoiaf #a song of ice and feels #jon snow #arya stark #house stark #asoiaf meta #catelyn stark #robb stark #catelyn tully #jaime lannister #acok #robert baratheon #i could write a whole post on honour in got alone #and one day i probably will #jon is particularly afflicted with oh god what would my dad say #bestie if you have to sleep with ygritte and play turncloak to survive HE WOULD WANT YOU TO SURVIVE #he didn't make that promise to fold over some thousand year old irrelevant vow

[melrosing]

starks + theon DONE

more here

#catelyn stark #eddard stark #rickon stark #theon greyjoy #robb stark #jon snow #sansa stark #bran stark #arya stark #asoiaf #the ones I definitely want to do are the Lannisters + Dany and if I’m not bored by then I’ll do more #but not gonna turn it into a video until I feel done lol #anyway this was fun lol idk why im making it my mission to revive 2008 cringe in 2024 asoiaf fandom tho #melrosing art #asoiaf caramelldansen thing