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luvinescent · 5 months

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Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths. Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”. Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her. A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

#robb stark #game of thrones #robb stark fanfic #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #robb stark oneshot #richard madden #robb stark imagine #got x reader #got scenario #got imagines #asoiaf #robb stark x targaryen!reader #robb stark x fem!reader

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pinkykats-place · 10 months

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GoT DILF(s) x reader insert fics

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

Stories are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Readers are mostly female.

Note: if you read any of these stories and enjoy them pls let the author know by rebloggung, liking or commenting on original post

Alliance

Ned Stark x second wife! Reader

Four Part Series

Surviving || Series Masterlist

{Ned Stark x Reader}

Summary: It was a classic romance. You were barren, his wife had passed, and you’d met through your father. It was a wonder the minstrels weren’t already singing songs about you.

The Secret Wife

Ned Stark x Fem!Reader Imagine

A Quiet Morning

Tywin Lannister x Female Reader

Summary: You enjoy a quiet morning with your Lord Husband

Under his mane

Tywin Lannister x Baratheon!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Imagine Tywin Lannister visiting your chambers to fulfill his son’s duty at his place (smut)

Baby Lion

Tywin Lannister x pregnant!wife!Reader

Tywin Lannister being possessive and having jealous sex would include:

Longing

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x reader

Request: good fluffy smut with Tywin Lannister… maybe him realizing that his feelings for the reader is more than just a political marriage

Warnings: political marriage/arranged marriage, older man x younger woman, soft smut, unprotected sex

Repeat of History

Tywin Lannister x wife!Reader

Summary: when you go into labour, Tywin worries for your safety, remembering the death of his first wife

Trouble

Tywin x Wife!Reader

Summary: Tywin takes a second wife for a purely political alliance, and ends up with far more than he expected.

Series: Tywin x Reader

Summary: Imagine finding out you are marry Tywin Lannister after the deaths of your brother and Mother, Robb and Catelyn Stark.

The Lady Lion

Tywin x Wife!Reader

Fluffy Fic

In Time, the Lion Loves

Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader

Blessed with youth

Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!Reader

https://www.tumblr.com/gotpineapple/186244280214/blessed-with-youth-tywin-lannister-x-tyrellreader?source=share

Betrothed to the Wrong Brother

Stannis Baratheon x Reader

Based on this request: reader is supposed to be set up with Robert, but while at Storms End falls for Stannis instead?

Confession

Stannis Baratheon x fem!Reader

Summary: Stannis finally confesses his love for his wife

Belonging

Stannis Baratheon x Wife!Reader

Summary: Takes place around the time Robert was crowned, when Stannis and the Reader are married for less than a year. Robert’s drunkenness results in some jealousy and misunderstandings (and making up).

Steady

Stannis x Wife!Reader

Setting: just a year or two after Robert was crowned

An Injustice

Stannis Baratheon x reader

Summary: A lil one shot from a visiting Davos’s pov after Robert’s Rebellion. There’s more but I like the characterisation in this the best.

Stannis x Arryn!Reader

Jealous kiss for our one true king, stannis

Stannis Baratheon x fem!Reader

headcanons on the relationship between Shireen Baratheon and stepmother!reader & on how the Baratheon household would change if the Reader was to marry Stannis

Headcanons for Stannis x Reader’s children

Playground (modern au)

Stannis Baratheon x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is sister to Sandor, and meets Stannis at a playground. The reader has a toddler daughter, but the father has passed away. Shireen and the daughter start playing together, so Stannis and the reader start talking too. Soon they plan a play date and the things escalate.

Imagine threatening to leave Roose and him letting it slip that he loves you (smut)

Roose being touch starved would include

A Northern Arrangement || Series

Roose Bolton x Reader

Imagine making a deal with Roose Bolton so he wont betray Robb and will actually warn Robb and everyone of the Frey’s impending betrayal.

Roose Bolton x Reader || Series

Roose being gentle with you:

Losing your virginity to Roose Bolton would include:

Imagine being in a pitch-black castle with Roose Bolton.

NSFW Alphabet with Roose Bolton

My Innocent Snowdrop

Oberyn Martell x Stark!Reader

Summary: The eldest Stark girl is forced to marry Oberyn Martell as a political alliance made by Cersei, but what she does not know is that the Prince of Dorne is a very loving man who easily falls in love with her and cherishes her deeply.

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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SEE YOU AGAIN

pairings: robb stark x fem!targaryen!reader, platonic!stark family x reader

warnings: none!

a/n: i had only two drafts and this was one of them!! might just get back into got/hotd writing! god this was written a while ago

Within an hour you wound up being introduced to the entire Stark family. You especially liked Ayra, she reminded you of Rhaenyra in certain aspects such as her rebellious behaviour. Although you did have to cover your head with a scarf for the most part, your violet eyes were quite hard to miss. You chalked it up to a birth defect and were introduced as a maiden of the Red Keep, returning home for marriage but also a friend of the Eldest three children.

You yourself had never visited the North before, as your parents had deemed it unworthy of being visited by a Princess. But you found yourself growing fond of the place despite its cold nature.

You had also found Nyraxes huddled in front of a bonfire in a near by cave. Surprisingly she hadn’t torched the entire area and it’s inhabitants. You had wondered how the Starks had managed to tame a dragon.

But at the moment you were more concerned about getting home. As nice as it was to be in the area, you found yourself surprisingly longing for the Red Keep. Currently you found yourself dining with the family, the food seemed foreign, scarcely containing any notable fruit or vegetables but Jon had explained the lack of crop in such harsh times, which you understood. You felt uncomfortable, out of place.

Everyone chatted so freely, everyone knew each other where as you were an outsider in every way. Your gorgeous purple eyes in contrast to the ever so common brown and black, bright, striking silver hair which was no longer covered, compared to red and brown.

“Y/n, who are you marrying my dear?” Catelyn questioned you as the entire table diverted their gaze to you. Your face became hot, especially under Robb’s sharp gaze. “Yes Y/n, who are you betrothed to?” You felt like ripping him a new one, perhaps feeding him to Nyra.

“I’ve returned home for my parents, we’re heading up to Casterly Rock for the wedding, he’s a lord but I doubt you would know of him your grace.” Laughs bellowed out around you, Robb loudest of all.

“Your grace?” Robb cried out. “Hush you all. She has decorum and respect unlike most, why mock her for it? My dear, please, call me Catelyn.”

You nodded.

Ed and Catelyn still didn’t know of your real name, nor your lineage/descent. That much they may have been able to get their heads around but you weren’t so sure they would have opened up their castle to you quite so swiftly if they knew of the, as most royals and small folk would claim, “Beast” in the caves.

You sat at your windowsill looking out onto the courtyard as a someone knocked on your door. “You alright if I come in love?” You allowed him in. “Not the view your used to?” You nodded, “I wish to go home Robb. But if what you say is true how can I? All the Targaryens are gone. My Aemond, ended up dead in battle Above the Gods Eye along with my Uncle Daemon. Aegon, Helaena, Her children, Otto, Rhaenyra, Nyra, Jace, Luke everyone. In the history books and life I am forever known as the Princess who Hid. A coward.” You cried as he sat down and hugged you.

As he soothed you Robb slowly raised you face to him, as he wiped away your tears. “Not everyone.” Your head shot up, “What?” You croaked, “I didn’t finish the book my love. Aenys the mad King has two surviving children. Daenerys and Viserys. Although Viserys passed away a long time ago.”

“A-and Daenerys?” “Alive, and well as it seems. She’s been wed to Khal Drogo seemingly pregnant too as it seems.” Robb swiped a stray hair behind your ear as he leaned in, so did you.

You woke up the next morning after Robb as his side of the bed was seemingly empty. You prayed to the old gods and new that no one had heard the two of you yesterday. And if they did that they wouldn’t mention anything it. Everyone had broke their fast earlier on in the day as you had slept longer than usual. You weren’t use to having such lengthy nights of rest but were more than grateful.

After dressing you walked the halls with Arya for a bit before making your way to the courtyard where everyone seemed to have gathered for something, it wasn’t long before Sansa pulled you in front of all the people where the reason for the spectacle (rather reasons) came into view.

Robb was laughing loudly before Jon attacked, blade in hand. Robb swiftly moved to the side away from Jon and used his blade to propel Jon forwards again. As Jon fell Robb raised his sword to his neck.

“And you’re dead.”

Jon laughed, “Perhaps you should become a knight brother.”

They’re laughter stopped as you stepped out, fully dressed in your old clothes and determined. “I take it you’re planning on leaving now?” You smiled and nodded, “I appreciate your hospitality Robb, Jon. But if I do have surviving family than I must go to them. Thank you, truly.” You spoke as you walked past them, as much as you wished to stay longer you knew you’re descendants needed your help.

So as you mounted your Nyraxes, you couldn’t help but look back at him.

Maybe, you’d see him again.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader

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talesof-old · 2 years

Text

a queen’s desire | r.s.

pairing: robb stark x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, breeding kink, brief (ish) mentions of Robb biting reader, mentions of having children, reader is referred to by the terms wife and queen, reader has a vagina and can get pregnant, i think there’s a mention of war as well as injuries, barely proofread, really not edited

word count: 1.8k

kinktober series

robb finds the idea of you having children a little too much to handle

prompt: breeding, biting

masterlist

You struggled, fingers shaky as they pulled at Robb’s tunic. A low chuckle sounded from his chest and he gripped your hips. He pulled you toward him and nuzzled his face in your neck, trailing kissing from your jaw to the column of your throat. You huffed when he refused to lift his arms, fingers pressed hard against the fleshy part of your sides.

“Mhmm.” He hummed against your collarbone, sucking on your skin. You tugged on his tunic. He grinned. There was a brief pause before he pulled away and pulled off his clothes, discarding them in a haphazard pile on the floor. You rolled your eyes as he pulled you back into him, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips against yours.

“My sweet wife.” You shivered as he carefully guided you backwards, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss. The cot hit your knees, causing you to fall back with a soft noise, eyes already on the grinning man before you.

He began to lift your skirts, eyes focused on yours as you pushed yourself up onto your hands. He tugged you forward, leaving you just barely perched on the edge of the bed. This was a sight you’d never tire of.

Robb, his pupils blown wide, kneeling before you with swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He nuzzled his cheek against your inner thigh, kissing the soft skin by your knees and slowly drawing away as he saw your expression softened.

His brow furrowed, hands loosely clutching at your calves. You smiled and reached forward, tangling your hair in his curls and drawing him closer to where you needed him. “Will you keep me waiting, husband?”

He rolled his eyes, mouth twisting into a smirk.

“You’re demanding tonight.” You laughed, humming at the feel of his breath on your exposed cunt.

While you might not say it, Robb had a way of making you feel things no one had ever really made you feel before. His lips skimmed over the sensitive skin on your thighs before he latched onto it, sucking and nibbling until you were sure your upper legs were covered in marks. You moaned as he ventured closer to your lower lips, desperation beginning to deep in. His hands dug into the backs of your knees, fingernails just barely scratching at skin.

You clenched around nothing as he spread your lips, his thumb grazing over your clit in a way that had your hips jerking, a startled moan sounding from your throat. He chuckled, removing his thumb despite the way you whined. The noise quickly turned into a choked moan as he wrapped his lips around the swollen nub. Your arms nearly gave out as he stroked your lips, gently sucking on your spot in a way that had you racing towards the edge. You rolled your hips against his face.

The two of you didn’t get much time together nowadays, what with him going to war and you attempting at running camp. A sudden thought nearly sent you spiraling. The frantic feeling you’d felt earlier fizzled away and you moaned again, hips stuttering at a particularly harsh suck. Robb smiled against you.

“Robb-“ You choked on his name as one of his fingers teased your entrance.

“Robb.”

He stopped, drawing away at the insistent tone of your voice. You nearly wept at the loss of contact, but something else had started to fill your mind.

You gripped his wrists, “Want you in me.”

He shook his head, though a smile was on his face.

“Want to taste you on my tongue first, but someone’s needy.”

You ignored his teasing tone and tugged on his arms again. You could see it now, your belly swollen and a red headed toddler on your hip. Imagined the way Robb would glow at the sheer mentionof you or the babes, the way he did whatever he could to please you.

“I want you to fill me up, I want to carry your children inside me.”

Every part of him that you could feel went rigid. You scanned his face, heart racing as his jaw clenched and he looked away.

For a brief moment, he looked pained.

“You can’t just say things like that, love.” You made a face, eyes locked. Though it was just the two of you, your voice was barely more than a whisper when you asked, “Why not?”

He groaned, pushing himself up to sit beside you, the bed creaking slightly. You noticed just how erect he was, raising a brow before sobering at his serious expression.

“I can’t-“ He paused, looking at the ceiling as if to ask the gods for guidance. “You don’t know what it does to me when you say things like that.”

You sighed, standing briefly to untie your dress and letting it fall to the floor, baring your nude body to him before settling back on the bed. His eyes were wide, and you stifled a giggle.

“Robb, you think I don’t know you want to start a family? Gods, you’ve been talking about it since before our wedding night.” He flushed red, a sheepish smile on his face.

You reached over, stroking his hair and resting your arm on his shoulder. “I know you haven’t said anything because of my own reservations, but I’m ready when you are.”

He ran a finger along the top of your arm, goosebumps following his trail.

“You’re sure?”

His voice was raspy, nearly hoarse as if he hadn’t expected those words to come out of your mouth. You nodded, a smile on your face. Robb didn’t waste any time, his lips were on yours before you could blink. Unlike just before, it wasn’t slow, or sensual. No, this kiss was all tongue and teeth, a testament of his unspoken desire. You gripped onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin.

He moved his own hands to your hips, practically yanking you onto his lap and hissing when your cunt made contact with his bare erection. You rolled your hips, tongue still exploring his mouth despite your lungs demanding more air.

He thrusted up against you, a broken moan that had you trembling leaving his lips.

You continued to move your hips, reveling in the feeling as Robb broke away, instead sucking at the skin on the column of your neck. You hummed, heart racing as he shifted. In a smooth motion, he guided himself into your cunt and you moaned, head falling to rest on his shoulder as you focused on the feeling between your thighs. He filled you up completely, and you clutched onto him as he began to move. It wasn’t long before his pace was hard and fast, your cunt clenching around him as your body tried to become accustomed to sensation. You moaned when he hit the soft spot inside of you, eyes squeezing shut and hips stuttering. He cooed, rubbing the back of your neck as if to draw your attention from the way his hips were slapping against your skin.

He reached down between you, circling your swollen clit. You keened loudly, thighs shaking as the knot inside you tightened. Robb thrusted into you, letting your head fall back and latching his lips onto the marked skin.

You moaned, thighs locking for a brief moment as the pleasure almost became too much. His thumb continued to rub familiar circles along your clit and your chest heaved. Robb’s jaw clenched as you tightened around him, fingers digging into his shoulders. It was a familiar dance between the two of you, all movement and breathlessness, and it didn’t take long for you to start begging for something you hadn’t even known you’d wanted.

“Finish in me, please,” You were all but moaning the words against his lips, desperate in the rolling of your hips. A broken, pained whimper left Robb’s mouth at your words. It was true, he could imagine you swollen with child, his child. It would clearly mark you as his, and he felt his cock pulse in you at the mere thought.

“Robb, please-” The shaking of your thighs and the pressure built up inside of you was beginning to be too much to handle, and you wanted to finish together this time. Robb didn’t give you time to say or do anything else. A single swipe across your clit along with an angled thrust had something snapping in your belly, a cry escaping your lips before you could understand what had happened. Your vision went white and you didn’t register the teeth Robb had sunk into your shoulder as your tight grip on him sent him hurtling over the edge. He came inside of you, bodies shaking as you each rode out your orgasms. He slowly slid out of you as you came to, wincing at the soreness in your legs. He chuckled as you slumped into the bed, running your hand lazily up and down his bare back.

“Did you really have to bite me?” Despite the dull pain, you’d found you quite liked the reminders Robb left behind when he fucked you.

He turned, nuzzling his face into your inner thigh before lightly nipping at the skin, heart skipping as you laughed. It was a beautiful sound, something that warmed every part of his being as the days grew colder.

“I’ll do it again if my Queen allows it.” You grinned, watching as his smile turned wolfish. An all too familiar glimmer had taken up residence in his eyes and you beckoned him forward, hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

“She will allow you to do anything as long as you leave her satisfied.”

He brushed his lips against yours before murmuring, “Whatever is my Queen’s desire.”

You settled into the bed, legs spread as he hovered over you. He was so beautiful like this, and you marveled at the fact that he was yours. He tugged on the ends of the hair that rested on your shoulder.

“Fuck me ‘til I’m with child, show everyone I’m yours.” His eyes darkened and you tilted your head backwards, resting them on the pillows.

You were sure it wouldn’t take long. And even if it did, you didn’t think you would ever bore of the way he touched you.

“Everyone will know that when I’m through with you, wife. I’ll make sure it takes this very night.” You giggled at the seriousness in his tone, though you didn’t really doubt him. When Robb set his mind to something, there was nothing in this world that could stop him. You reached for him, cupping his face and kissing him hard on the mouth.

“Best get to it then.”

#robb stark x reader #robb stark #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #kinktober #house of the dragon #house stark #a song of ice and fire

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starkskeep · 1 year

Text

And the life I gave away (r. stark)

And the life I gave away r. stark imagine

Pt. 4 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop, And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - A letter from your father spurs Robb to take action to become a better husband.

Word Count - 1,551 words

Warnings - Angst, Walder Frey's A+ parenting

Songs I listened to while writing: Midnight Rain, All Too Well (Taylor Swift), Moral of the Story (Ashe), We Go Down Together (Dove Cameron & Khalid)

The days following are long for you. You stay in your chambers and refuse entry to anyone but the maids. You eat only broth and bread, unable to stomach anything else. Despite the child being a bastard. Part of it is worry. News has no doubt already reached your father of the events at Winterfell and it deepens the pit of dread thinking of the letter that will no doubt arrive from the Twins. However, you do not allow your grief to disrupt Winterfell the birth of their lord’s child. Robb is a good person who would not allow his child to be ill-treated and you would never hold the circumstances of a child’s birth against them, especially a little girl. The world is already cruel enough to women even without their status being held against them.

The days are equally long for Robb. From the moment he left your chambers to see Talisa and his child, he had wanted nothing more than to return to you, wrap his arms around you, and tell you that he was sorry for everything you have endured since leaving your father’s household. But he knew he wouldn’t be accepted. The pain was something that you two would have to take separately. The king of the north hoped that by some miracle of the gods you would call for him, but you never did.

You were alone in the Godswood reading the letter that had finally come from your father. It’s the first time that you have ventured out of your chambers in weeks.

To my worthless daughter,

How stupid do you have to be not be pregnant yet? There must be something wrong with you. Instead, I should have given one of your sisters or nieces to the Stark boy. They would have likely been impregnated already. It’s not that hard to lay on your back and take it. It is your duty and you have failed. It’s evident by the existence of a bastard that he has no issue producing children and the problem lies with you. You are a disgrace to the Frey name. If you don’t produce an heir for Robb Stark soon, I will have you dragged away from Winterfell and you will be replaced with another one of my other girls. This is not a threat to be taken lightly.

Remember your duty.

Lord Walder Frey

You sob as you read the letter. Your tears end up smudging some of your father’s words. No mention of your injury or how you almost lost your life. The letter only contains threats and reminders of your failures. You don’t know why you expected anything else from Walder Frey. It’s not like the man ever acted as a father. But still, you would have thought there would have been at least the tiniest bit of concern that he almost lost you.

It is this scene that Sansa comes upon when she enters the Godswood. She stops in her tracks when she sees you: first surprised that you are out of your rooms and then startled that you are crying. She walks over to where you are and read the letter as best as she can from over your shoulder. Sansa’s expression oscillates between worry and outrage. There is nothing she can say to you that she believes would alleviate your pain so she instead chooses to sink to the ground beside you and rubs your arm in comfort. “Can I do anything for you?” Your good sister asks and the words come from the bottom of her heart. The letter was cruel and undeserved. Sansa truly wants to help you, to make your pain go away.

You hastily wipe your tears as Sansa sat beside you, standing up after her question as if it scared you off. “N…n…no. I’m sorry that you had to see me in this state. If you would excuse me, I must be off.” You rush out of the Godswood.

In your haste, you had dropped your letter. Sansa notices it in the grass and walks over to pick it up. She knows that she needs to let someone know how Walder Frey is writing to you. Even though you are his daughter, you are now the Queen of the North and you require respect from everyone. Not wanting to disturb Robb and not believing him to be the best person to handle this, Sansa decides to show it to her mother. Lady Catelyn will know what to do.

Catelyn looks down at the letter that Sansa had brought to her. An expression of disgusted disbelief spreads across her face as she reads it. What a cruel, cruel man Walder Frey is. When for him, this is shocking. She could never imagine her late father sending a letter such as this at the beginning of her marriage to Ned. Catelyn shakes her head and purses her lips, letting out a deep breath in an effort to calm herself and organize her thoughts. Something needs to be done about this. It is despicable and she refuses to let you be subjected to this kind of vitriol. Robb must be told about this. He is the only one with enough power to take action. No one deserves to be treated as such, especially someone such as yourself.

Robb stares down at the letter that his mother had just brought to him. He is livid. This is the very last straw for Walder Frey. The man shall truly become his name, the Late Lord Frey.

The king’s anger only grows as he reads line after line. “Did he truly say this to her?” He asks incredulously as he shakes the letter in his hand. “How dare he!” The rage building in him is undeniable and hard to contain. He clenches his fist and when he finally looks back up, there is fire behind his gaze.

Catelyn speaks to Robb, rubbing his back the way she had done when he was a boy in an attempt to calm him down. “My dear boy. You need to go speak to your wife about this. This is her letter, from her father, with these vile words written about her.”

He looks down at the letter again, making sure that he saw everything correctly; that this letter is as disgusting as when he read it the first time. When Robb is finished rereading it, his face shifts from anger to contempt. The words stab at his heart. “How could someone say as much to their daughter? To someone with a heart as kind as my wife’s? She sacrificed her safety for Arya and Rickon without expecting anything in return even after the way this family initially rejected her presence at Winterfell. She is the best of us and to have these words written about her should be met with removing the writer’s hands.”

“While I detest Walder Frey even more for writing this and vehemently disagree with most of the letter’s claim, there is some truth to his claims. Not the threats about y/n being worthless, which is very much not true, but about you and her not having a child together yet. A woman’s position in the household she marries into is only secure so long as she provides her husband with children. Even more so when those children shall be the heirs to a kingdom. As much as I love my new granddaughter, the birth of your natural-born child has put your wife at great risk. People will begin to speculate whether or not she is able to bear children when in reality, it is the fact that you do not lay with her.”

Robb’s heart begins to race. Not only is it embarrassing to hear his mother talk about his relations with his wife, but the guilt that has already been building since your accident worsens. The facts behind Walder Frey’s letter were true but to say what he said to you was monstrous. He would not let anyone talk about or to his wife like that.

“That doesn’t excuse the cruelty of the letter. This is disgusting.” Robb grits out as he throws the letter down on his desk. He really wants to throw it in the fireplace until it becomes nothing but ash yet he decides to keep it should he ever need evidence against your father. Catelyn watches as Robb storms out of his study.

Meanwhile, you are back in your chambers. Sitting in front of the fireplace, Jon has his arms around you as you sob. He pulls away slightly in order to procure a handkerchief for you. After wiping away your tears, Jon pulls you closer to him. He places a kiss on the top of your head and smoothes your hair.

You choke back tears as you speak. “Jon. I can’t find the letter that my father wrote me. The contents are mortifying. I can’t bear the thought of someone finding it. Will you check the Godswood for me? That was the last place I remember having my letter. It’s where I read it.

“Of course. I would do anything you ask of me.” Jon replies to you sincerely. Neither of you has noticed that Robb has entered your chambers.

Next Part

#robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark x reader #game of thrones imagine

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rise-my-angel · 6 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

23 - Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

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

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of child death disease and miscarriage, references to rape, warfare and strategy talk, exploration of past trauma, mild sexual descriptions

Notes: The story on Dragonstone is based on a book only plot from A Dance with Dragons for any who aren't familiar with the characters. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Come the end of morning, he was gone. By the tinting of nightfall as the sun set below the sea, was when you learned you were soon to be as well. It had been a long night, your mother had been spending all of her time in those hours with Maester Cressen, with a number of midwives running back and forth along with your father. It didn’t make sense to you at first, it was far too early for your brother to be born. She had only been showing for a few months and he was not to come into this world until the year turned over to the next.

But then he was gone. It had happened a second time, and finally you understood that you were the problem. When your mother lost your first brother, she had stopped spending time with you and even now you both barley spoke. Father still did, but she couldn’t look at you and you knew she blamed you for it. There was none other to explain, and then father had brought you into the main hall of his living quarters.

She still barley looked at you as they explained your new brother was lost, but that was not all. You were to be sent away. “I will be staying here to look after your mother while she recovers, the guard will accompany you on the journey there until you have reached Winterfell into Lord Stark’s care.”

Silent and wide eyed, you looked to your mother who had but a dispondant and distant glint in her eye as she turned her gaze away when she caught yours. Your father stood tall before you and none bothered to tell you the truth of why, but you knew.

“How long will I be gone?”

Your father was very matter of fact about it, “A number of months. At the least until the new year begins but likely longer. You will take any and every opportunity to learn at his side.” The room was painfully quiet from all three members of the family. Calling your name you hadn’t noticed your gaze wandered to the floor, snapping back up to meet your father’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, he seemed to accept it. Moving around to the table, taking a seat as he and your mother shared a look. At the time you thought it was dismissal, sending you off as if once walking out that room you would instantly step onto the ship away forever. Your mother didn’t like the North, neither did your father really. Speaking of it as if it were unruly and full of people that one should stay away from.

That’s how you knew it was a punishment, that it was all your fault for your brothers. Sending you alone to a scary, cold place where you knew none and would be under a new families care following their every order. You were not welcome in your own home. Born first, it seemed as if you were what held back your brothers from joining his life. Sons were supposed to come first, then daughters and yet you were her very first and that must be ruining everything.

It was so exciting when you learned mother was pregnant again, pregnant with a boy again. You had been only six when your first brother had gone and now at eight you had been over the moon to be given this second chance. Your gift was even better the first. You were far better at crafting now and it had sat on the flat surface of your dresser for months to ensure when he was here you could grab it to gift it to him right away. Spending time reading to make sure everything you made the toy with was safe and that he wouldn’t break it easily.

The halls felt so empty, dark and grim as night took the rest of the sun away as did the mood of the island. Feet dragging as did the weight in your head sink lower and lower to your heart and filled with a metal that might just break through the sturdy build of the many floors below. Light peeking through the ends of a door, you managed to reach your bedroom with a heavy sorrow.

Slipping inside, you moved to push the heavy door closed entirely before turning around with a sigh. The room was partially set up for you with cases to pack your things in on the floor waiting. The window still open blowing the translucent curtains over the air and washing onto your bed making it nice and cool you suspected, but the gentle breeze did not feel refreshing.

Hands reaching up to wipe at the tears you were annoyed had fallen the entire walk to your room, more felt in their place. Eventually having to give up, knowing they would keep doing so. Only when you turned to your dresser to begun pulling out clothes, you saw the toy. Sitting ready to be brought to him, and it dawned on you.

He was lost today, and it was not yet over. Until the moon passed over the middle of the sky above Dragonstone you had time. Rushing to grab the toy, you stopped to grab a sheet of paper and ink, putting them onto the carpet. There was a set of long drawers across one wall, and at only eight you winced as you stood next to the edge and pushed it along the floor until there was enough space to easily fit behind it. Pulling back the edge of carpet draped was a jagged stone that didn’t quite sit at settled as the rest. Your fingers dug into the sides, wiggling it just the right amount until it gave.

Only the framework was left, the stone hollow inside as it surrounded a small box. Wooden and dyed a rich blue with deep orange foxes outlined over it, you shifted backwards with it. Kneeling down on the floor on your knees, you pulled open the lid and just like you remembered, the first toy you ever made still sat as peacefully as when placed there. You pulled down the new one, as well as the paper and ink, giving yourself enough room on the flat part of the floor to sit it in front of you. The toy and box sitting just to their side.

Biting your tongue, you tried to recall the words and luckily there was still enough in your head to conjure them up as you recalled reading. Writing neatly, you wanted to make sure it was as clear as could be read and no mistakes made, not even in spelling. Your penmanship had become more skilled in two years at least. You paused for a moment, glancing up around your room but there was nothing close to that of a seal, you’d have to draw it again.

Instead you continued to write. Words which a septon would speak as they would name a newborn child under the Light of the Seven. Written just as you could hear them being spoke aloud, not that you ever did with your own family. You now knew that it was impossible you ever would, you had cursed your mother. Without a seal, you leaned down over the paper to focus even more. The Stag needing to be drawn with much more precision as the gods might not recognize it were you to be lazy.

A large space at the bottom of the page was waiting now, brows narrowing in consideration just as last time it was up to you. Mother and father had never gotten as far as a name so you once more had to run through what sounded like the name of a boy matching the appearance you were seeing in your mind. One finally coming to you, you scrawled it out before pulling back to look it over. The words of faith written neat and clear, the sigil of a stag drawn much better then two years ago and right at the bottom you felt your heart both sink and swim at the name you chose for your second brother.

“Edric Baratheon”

Grabbing the box, you held it in your lap raising up the new toy as your hands traced over it. At least Petyr would have a brother to keep him safe now. Gently you sat the toy down inside and covered it back up. Hiding it in the hole in the floor, stone back covering it’s place and carpet draped to hide it’s presence. Putting the paper up onto the drawers for now as you strained your small muscles to push it back into place.

None were around nor were there voices to be heard from a muffle, you had a perfect time if you rushed. Moving to the brazier by the corner of your room you gently lit the paper’s edge until a flame overcame. Putting it down into the middle as fire overtook and begun to ashen it’s contents, you moved around your room to gather the rest. A thicker cloak wrapped around your shoulders and hiding your front from the night sea breeze and a small bag you hung across your torso to sit at your side.

Moving to the brazier again, a small pouch in hand, you blew out the remains and the embers dulled with it. Still hot but there was not much to grab, you scooped the remains up and let them all sit in a small pouch. Pulling the drawstrings together it closed it off as you slipped that into the bag. For the final, you rummaged under your bed until it was found, the little blade you kept safe from last time. It had been stolen from the kitchens but you hid it under your mattresses and sheets deep to hide where none could see it.

Putting that too in the bag, you made your way to open the door. Hallways were empty and the rest of the journey was what you seemed to think was a breeze.

The sounds of the sea crashing against the rocky shores was booming. A thunderous crash of water that echoed around you like thunder, making the journey that much more treacherous on your own. There was a sept closer then this, but something about the statues against the torches of fire around made here feel more meaningful. It was closer to the earth, the ground, the sea ahead of you making way for an easy path to the heavens and you suspected he would be blessed faster this way.

You were small against seven statues, all tall and spread apart across the sand to give each offering their own space. The Seven all asked for the same things, but demanded different givings of nature and each passed their own curses down for breaking such vows. By the brazier near the entrance to the site, you used a small holder and carefully tipped it’s end into the flames. Letting it gently ignite, the wind asking to blow it out but you kept your other hand cupped around the back of it to shield.

Each Statue given a blessing of light as candles were sat in pockets carved into the stone that would be replaced as they gave out. Luckily, they were mostly new and no rain had come to ruin it. But there was one god you must see in special, you came to her last. Each statue before it having seven, but you needing only to light one single candle in the middle to the ones you did not mean to pray to, before making your way over. Wanting to save your prayers for her mercy.

The Mother was the god which overlooked those such as you, seeing the blessings of children new and old and it was her grace which allowed women to bear child. She also, could take it away just as fast. A thing you were here to once more ask to forgive.

At only eight you were short enough to not need to kneel to the candles, only leaning down slightly you lit all Seven etched into the base of the Mother. Your mind was silent as with each lighting you spoke your prayers in your heart asking for her to listen and grant you just once with begs of mercy to the other six watching over.

Letting it drop after shaking the remaining fire out, you stood in front of her. Looking up at the beauty the statue captured and could only ask her to forgive him. He was not at fault, and the pain of your own mother was too great to grant him a true name and life before passing. “Let me repay such a debt for my sins, allow my hands and my blood to grant my brother a name and pass him onto the heavens. If I am why Petyr was not allowed to be of this world, let me give my new brother a name and join them together.”

Your voice was so small, a high breathy tone that spoke more now then you would for weeks coming to you. “My sins should not damn them for eternity, you can curse me with whatever you see fit but allow me to help my brother, help Edric, pass onto the worlds beyond.”

Pulling out the small pouch, you held it to your heart as you looked up to the Mother, and with only splashes against the waters and no booming thunders or crashes she gave you permission to pass him on. Pulling the bag over you off, you took out the only other item inside, the small ornate blade which had only use once more just as this. Looking to her eyes, you knew that without a body, she would need blood to give way for Edric along with the ashes of his namesake.

Paper with his name was all he was, and your blood would have been his. Wincing, you let the blade drag across your palm, holding back tears as the sting burned in the salty air. But it was done and as the red oozed out, you looked up to her one last time. Your free hand dropping the blade into your bag and opened the small pouch, and let the ashes gently drop into your bloody palm.

Stepping to the middle of the clearing, you carefully moved until only a foot into the tides of the water. There was no body, just as with Petyr, but you would let him spread out to be washed away to wherever the gods let what remained of his existence on land. Gripping it tight in your palm, finally you closed your eyes, kneeling down to the ground with your palms braced in the watery sands under the tides.

Much of the Faith of the Seven was said in words and prayers, rituals and rules that must be followed but this was the best you could do. Give your brothers a name, bleed for them and wash them into the waters with the Mother to guide them and eternal hell would finally end for their suffering.

It was your fault, your mother did not want to be around you for cursing her with only a first girl and now your father has decided you must be sent to a place that gave you worries and nightmares. You knew nothing of the Northerners, but being sent away to them was to get you away from your mother. Give her a chance to heal, and maybe find refuge in a son without you there to bare down on her.

You had been there far too long. Now sat on the sand, your feet free and bare in the cool tides, and your knees tucked up to your chest, arms wrapped around them you finally stopped feeling the sting of ash and salt water that seeped into your hand. You had put your gloves on, at least you could hide it for the time being. The waves were loud enough that it masked the clink of chains until they came beside you.

Looking to your left, Maester Cressen found his slow way to the ground to sit next to you. A bashful look overtaking your features as you knew you were expected to be up in your room packing. Unlike what your father might have been, he was gentle in his tone. “I thought I had seen a tiny doe sneaking around the castle.” Your shoulders shrunk in on themselves, your eyes watching the dark sea once more. Essos was said to be far away in this direction, but you could see nothing just as you would see nothing trying to find King’s Landing on the other side of the island. “This is the second time you’ve snuck out at night to come here, and if I’m not mistaken it was under the same circumstances. Is this about your brother?”

Your throat closed, a heavy weight sat hard in it which was filled to the brim with unshed tears. Giving a nod, he let a hand run across your hair, the comforting sensation causing you to sink further into yourself and push out the tears from it’s temptation entirely with a shaky breathe. “The Mother cannot help him if my father and mother won’t name him. It’s my fault, so I need to help him pass into the heavens.”

Maester Cressen leaned forward, looking to your side profile with a heavy heart of his own. “Now, tell me, why would you think this is your fault? None of us can control what the gods choose for us.” The only reaction you gave him, was to shrug one shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to explain to him why you could feel your heart as cursed. Your father would have found such notions foolish, and so would he.

Baratheons do not act like children he would teach you, and they must stand on their own two feet no matter how difficult it is. It was the only way to grow up and be stronger willed then that of the fools around you, your father had many times said. It was silly to tell anyone such childish thoughts of curses and blessings. “I was born before Petyr and Edric, which means I would be their older sister. So I have to be responsible for them.”

Maester Cressen smiled, none but him knew of what you had done for your unborn brother, and now you had shared your second one with him too. He suspected one day that thought would find itself as a comfort to Selyse, but the pain was too raw. Yet, her only child, their only daughter sat outside in the shores of the sea begging the gods to grant mercy for children you had never met. This was a sad place for any child to grow up, he thought.

“They are lucky to have you. The gods grant mercy to those who pray to them with honourable intentions.”

You had been quiet for a moment, and when you did it was in an even quieter tone. “Will they hear me all the way up North? The gods?” Turning to look at him, eyes wide and full of a far away nervousness all over. “They say Northerners pray to the old gods, will the Seven be angry with me if I pray there and the old gods hear it?”

He had to not laugh, such a small little question but you were as deadly serious as your father on his roughest of days. Wondering one day, if he will be able to hear you grinding your teeth from the other side of the castle as he swore he could Lord Stannis. “They do have a sept in Winterfell, but even if you speak to the old gods, I’m sure ours will understand. I know going there seems scary, and leaving your parents and friends behind here-”

You were quick to interrupt, a shortness in your voice but one also lonely. “I don’t have any friends.”

To no fault of your own, there were not many children your age to make friends with. You didn’t know that part of why your father chose Winterfell was so for a while at least, you could be around children your own age. Maester Cressen felt sorrow in his heart, you were a lonely, isolated child with a family that did not find it in their own hearts to give such love and affection, as you wanted to show brothers that never came to be. Selyse found the stories of the Northerners to be unruly and unfitting of you, but he knew that at their best they were a lively bunch that would do good for you.

“Well, when you finally come back in the new year, perhaps you will be already dreaming of going back and see your new Northern friends, then to stay here with no one but me to keep you company.”

While he chuckled, you didn’t. You did dream of the North, but only in nightmares. Looking out to the sea, you could only remember the same dream you kept having. A dream of you wandering a Northern forest, dark and snow all around you and the black in your vision closing in. Closing in on you until there was only one small strip of forest you could walk through.

On one end were the growling snarls of wolves and a pair of blood red eyes that seemed to shine in the darkness. And the other? Only the sounds of ice as if loudly cracking along a lake, and crystal blue eyes glowing even taller in the darkness opposite of the red.

Your face winced as you took another sip, trying not to let the bemused look in Jon’s eyes get to you anymore then it already had. “Where did he say he got this from?”

There was a small smirk on his face, taking a sip of his own hiding his displeasure better then you. “He said it came from a merchant near Pentos.”

Wyman Manderly had so graciously shared an ale he had acquired from Essos, that and a few other things as a claimed penance for having been sided with the Boltons. Jon insisted nothing was needed, but the Lord was not to be debated with. The food was more then welcome, as you had sniffed out he had been holding off resources beforehand. Lord Wyman of course, denied ever purposely withholding resources and it was merely a coincidence he came into so much to share only upon Jon’s crowning.

You hadn’t quite been in the right spirits to laugh, but he, Jon and the Lords in the main hall gathering certainty shared a good smirk over it.

Food that would keep, and had been building up for a little while along with a good fresh haul of meats that would feed many as the greater numbers were here for a time. The ale however, was truly not your taste. Or anyone’s you imagined. Thick and bitter with an aftertaste that almost was worse then the initial flavour itself. “I could name a hundred disgusting thing’s I’d rather drink before choosing this all on my own.”

Shrugging, he put his own down with a heavier thud. “Now you’re starting to sound like a fancy girl who grew up near the capitol.” Rolling your eyes with a held back smirk, the only sounds left in the room was the fire blazing on the wall closest to you both. Night had long fallen by that point, and awake in one of the smaller studies you both had found excuses not to sleep quite yet.

In the corner on a softer blanket was a large ball of slumbering white fur however. Ghost had taken well to being back in Winterfell, having now also the pleasure of being allowed to wander the castle halls as he liked. Well behaved, quiet, mostly keeping to himself if not out in the woods or sticking around Jon’s side. He had no trouble sleeping, and you were willing to bet with not much in the way of nightmares either.

Something both you and Jon were not unfamiliar with by now. Putting your own down, slightly further away from you then needed, you huffed a laugh. “Wait until you see where I was raised, then I’ll ask you who between us grew up in luxury.”

Grey eyes trained heavily on yours, Jon still seemed to be trying to figure something out. He had gotten far better though at hiding his intentions and thoughts much to your dismay. He could read you better then you could him now. Looking away to the fire, leaning his forearms against his knees he gave out a quiet sigh. “He doesn’t hate you, he has no reason to say no if we tell him exactly what what I told you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the starts of a ruminating headache. “He didn’t help us when he knew we would need it most, why would he suddenly decide to help now? You weren’t even King yet and he still refused.”

Jon was more confident then you however, his voice unwavering. “He knows as well as I what’s out there, he knows why this is important. He’s stubborn, not unreasonable.”

Difficult to remember that these days it felt. Your nails tapped at your lip, almost unconsciously tracing along where the faintest of scars still sat if one looked close enough. Jon murmured your name but you only watched the fire more. Still now, you saw no visions or scenes running before you. Whatever god your father answered to now, left you alone in the dark with no guidance.

Your voice was low and somewhat far away. “He isn't unreasonable with you perhaps. The last time I sided with the King in the North instead of him, he spent three years calling me a traitor. And I spent three years thinking one day he’d send his armies for us instead of the Lannisters.”

“It’s different now.” You glanced over to him, eyes bright as they looked at you. A fight in them to not reach out to you in that very instance, he was adamant however at keeping his distance when you were like this. He was not given that kind of space when he desperately needed it, so he would make sure you had it instead. “You’re not fighting the Lannisters anymore. You’re here, fighting for more then that, fighting for something your father also believes in. We won’t even be asking for help, just his ships. Just enough for men and mining. His men will need something to fight back with one day too.”

Your nod was more absent minded then you intended. Gaze drifting away from him to the fire without any focus behind it. “It’s hard to believe, I dreamt about it that whole time and never knew. No one knows. Everything that’s coming and not a single one of us would’ve been ready for it. Except you.”

Trying to brush it off, the denial in his eyes was clear. “Not just me-”

Cutting him off you leaned forward now trying to meet his gaze a bit more. “Everyone’s here because of you. They are all listening to this and trust that you’re telling the truth, because it’s you saying it. Do you think if I alone was going around pleading them to fight against the dead beyond the wall a single one of them would have listened?”

He had said it to you before but felt no hesitancy in reiterating that now once more. “You were never going to do this alone.” Trying to say his name in protest, Jon shook his head. “Your father offered to make me Lord of Winterfell, name me a Stark if I gave him my allegiance, but I said no. I didn’t think I deserved it, and I felt my vows were more important then to just give them up like that. Then I found out you were alive, and it all suddenly hit me. Leaving you that day on the Kingsroad, something was trying to tell me it was a mistake leaving you.”

You bit your lip before dropping your head down slightly to the floor. Sighing out, “I’m not quite sure I would’ve fit in at the Night’s Watch.” Raising back up you found his eyes, a seriousness in them which lightened at the gentle playfulness in yours before you simmered down. “The first time it ever happened was after they arrested myself and your father. Seeing you, I mean.”

His eyes narrowed in question as you elaborated. “We had confronted Cersei and Joffery in front of the court, trying to plead our case and it all went wrong. We had trusted Peter Baelish to secure the City Watch on our side, and at the last minute they turned on us. Killed what was left of your father’s men and tossed us both into the black cells. I don’t remember much of it now. At the time I wasn’t even sure if it was real, a dream or if I was just delirious at that point. I remember it felt freezing, and then fire, a small bit of it as if it flew right past me and feeling whatever point I was seeing, like you were shoving me out of the room.” It connected then to Jon, knowing exactly what you had seen.

“Ghost found two rangers beyond the wall, they’d been dead for a while but they didn’t look it. Maester Aemon was keeping them to look them over, and one of them got up. Middle of the night Ghost brought me to the Lord Commander’s quarters, and we saw one of those dead rangers with blue eyes up walking around, nothing could hurt him.” You leaned forward a bit, following the trailing distance in his eyes fading to a memory. “He was coming right at us, so I threw a lantern at him and as soon as he caught fire I shoved the Lord Commander out of the room.”

Both of you looked at the other. You had no way of knowing it, no way of connecting those in your mind but it was there all the same. The cold, the bodies, the blue, the creatures something wanted to beckon you back to the North and at the same time it showed Jon you. As if telling him letting you be so far away was a bad idea.

Something wanted you two together, but it was hard to know what your place was in it now that you were back and Jon was alive. “My point is, even back then, something was trying to find ways to bring you back North. You were never going to have to do this, any of this on your own. Maybe we were always supposed to fight this one together.”

The room was quiet for a while, neither of you finding any reason to break the comfortable, warm silence wrapping around both of you. Your eyes were on the fire, his on you but the silence was welcome. It always was between you both. Jon was quieter, and in ways, softer then Robb was. Less direct and confident, but his dedication was clear as day in the small subtle ways he was with you. Neither of you needed to share any kind of physical contact to feel close to the other, it was simply in the air at all times.

Your voice was quiet as it whispered out, but loud enough in the emptiness of the room. “It means a lot to him, that you trust him.” Glancing to catch his eyes already watching, you flickered them quickly back to the fire. Leaning your arms more against your legs, clarifying, “Theon. He knows he as a long way to go, but after everything..I think it helps knowing he has more then just me now.”

Voice low, he still could only watch you. The tremendous weight looming through the two of you over the things that he would never truly know had happened. “I spent over eleven years growing up with him, and not once did he ever act anything like he does now. And I’ve never seen you two stick to each others side like this before, either.”

For a moment, it was almost as if you could feel yourself back down in the cold, damp cells of the Dreadfort. “I was almost delirious when Ramsay first brought him down to me. I don’t even know how long I had been in there by that point, couldn’t keep anything down and I was fairly certain my fever was so high I was starting to hallucinate. For a brief second, I almost thought I had made it up, I’d never seen him like that before it had to be fake. Ironically, he thought the same looking at me.”

A weight behind Jon’s eyes felt like it bore into you, the grey bright but tinted with a sorrow that you couldn’t look away from. It was as if he knew what was not being said in your mind, patient enough in his heart to wait for it to come from you all on your own and it was impossible to keep it back the longer he kept your gaze. You finally looked away with a shaky inhale, turning to look back at the fire as if it made it any easier. “It seems childish..very childish..but it’s..frustrating that it doesn’t feel any better. Ramsay being gone..I thought maybe I would feel relieved, or vindicated but it’s all exactly the same was before.”

Voice low, almost a whisper, but leaned so close to the other it boomed loud in your own ears. “Part of me wondered if I should've felt guilty for not caring when Ygritte was killed.” Whereas some would look at him with a sympathy, you didn’t even notice you only watched Jon with a narrowed, sharp look in your eyes. As if you were simply feeling everything others should have felt for him. Almost the same anger that he held for your pain.

“She loved me..or..a version of me and she died. And I felt nothing.” His eyes much like yours had, trailed off, finding the fire as you did earlier. “I could’ve held her, cried, brought her North to burn her properly but I just left her there. Let her get dragged onto the pile of the rest of them, and the only time I ever thought about her was when someone else would bring her up first. Grenn and Pyp died that night and that still hurts more then she ever even meant to me.”

A pained rage almost sat below the surface, a rough strain in his voice as if scratched raw. His hands you could tell, were clenched enough into fists as they sat across his knees the knuckles were turning white from the tensity. Only leaning a slight forward, you tilted your head to better see his face, the slow action causing him to swallow harshly as you spoke with the same volume but all of the softness he hadn’t been. “That’s because they saw someone who didn’t have to hide who he was, and they cared about him all the same. The version of you they died fighting beside was one who never had to lie to get them to trust him.”

He was quiet, and neither of you felt the need to break it before he was ready. He wanted you to talk about Ramsay, to not let it fester, but what was he doing if not holding it all in, himself?

When he finally found his voice again, it almost sounded angrier then before. “She would’ve hated you.” Your own brows narrowed in confusion, but Jon didn’t find your eyes. His jaw clenched as he sighed heavily and none of that anger left him with it. “Ygritte. Always would say she was my woman, then turn around in the same sentence and threaten me about ever leaving her like she thought it was cute. Not realizing I’d dream about you, see you in my head, couldn’t get you out of my mind no matter how hard I could have tried. Thinking of you was the only reason I could..”

He swallowed harshly, the side of his vision seeing you lean forward, giving him space but not for a moment letting him feel as if he was sitting or speaking to no one. You simply knew as long as he could see you, he could find the strength in his chest to continue, and it made his heart heavy at how easy it was for you to know exactly what he needed.

His voice was a little less rough this time around. “I almost called out your name once. Would try and tune her out when I would have to.. But one time I was so far into a memory, seeing you so clearly in my mind that for a moment I almost forgot who she was. And I know if I had, if she wouldn’t kill me for it, she’d have killed you if she ever met you. Knew if she ever found out about you, it didn’t matter what I said she’d have hated you enough to put an arrow through you. Hated the one person I’ve been in love with my whole life, and I think that made me hate her.”

He’d never said it before. Had to come to terms with lying about loving or even caring about her, but never had admitted to himself that he might have finally come around to hate. But glancing back up at the silent, patient warmth in your eyes, Jon knew he did. Knew that he hated her for even having a place in his mind still, because she stood against everything you were.

“She sounds like someone Robb wouldn't have been happy seeing you with.”

It took you by surprise, but Jon gave a laugh. A genuine burst of laughter that had him drop his head for a moment as his shoulders shook slightly. “I think so too.” Coming back up, he found your eyes again and neither looked away this time. “Think he also would also been unhappy at the man with you now?”

A small smile found it’s way onto you, not a hint of the playfulness he was hinting towards. Just a genuine radiating brightness that heated his heart faster then if he stepped right into the fireplace before you both as you spoke. “There’s nothing you could do that would’ve made Robb hate you. Nothing. Not now, not ever. He loved you, with everything he had, he loved you.”

You could have choked in that moment, but there was an adoration in his eyes as he didn’t blink, waver, and held nothing but an honesty he wanted you to hear as you had him. His hand finding a place gently on your jaw and cheek, thumb running across the skin he could reach. “And I love you, with everything I have.”

Whatever response he saw forming in you, he chose instead to lean forward. Closing the gap with a gentle kiss to your lips. Using his other hand to wind it’s way over to your hip before prompting you to stand with him. Not once disconnected the tender kiss, his lips soft and gentle as they almost coaxed you to relax in his touch. The hand on your cheek sliding back to run down your hair, smoothing it out before gently cupping the back of your neck, as his hand on your hip wrapped around your back, pulling you into his chest.

Your own palms placed flat on his collarbones, before moving to cup his cheeks. Not once did he let your lips break from his, the hand at the back of your neck almost to secure you against him. Let his lips gently kiss you, without greed or deeper desire, but not giving you the space to catch your breathe or kick off the dizziness of it.

Jon would never force you to marry him, or even come anywhere near push you for it. But as he gently lost himself in the taste and touch of your lips, there was not a single future he could imagine were you not in it. She spoke as if she had any rights to what his life would become, but there was never a future with Ygritte that didn’t end in his or her death because of her own destructive hatred of the things he now stood for beside you.

There was no image of her anywhere near here that existed. What would it even be? She would have found reason like Tormund? Even before it all blew up, Tormund had been more reasonable then she had. Would she have come with him and survive Hardhome? What kind of anger would have existed the second Jon wanted to leave to protect you? What would she have done when you arrived and he wasn’t there to stand between you? Would Tormund even still be at your side, would he still find room in his own strange heart to protect you from her, or would he side against you?

Ygritte being in Winterfell was impossible. She never would have come, not on this fight, this journey, never would have let herself anywhere near you or let Jon anywhere near you. It would’ve turned into a fight between her keeping Jon from you, and Ghost keeping you safe from her. You let Jon stand here, be soft and gentle, be vulnerable and hurt and let him promise to be the one to take care of you. It was sappy, and it was a kind of romantic notion he had long since come to terms many men would mock him for if he were ever honest about it. But Jon loved that you always so willingly fit perfectly into this gentle dream of romance in his mind.

Jon had taken care of you since that first day. Stepped forward the second Luwin had mentioned someone would need to be with you at all times because your fever had been that bad. Only a boy of ten and he took one look at you and for reasons he still didn’t understand, was certain in his mind that he wanted to be the one to care for you.

It was a joke to him, thinking that Ygritte assumed she was who he was supposed to be for. The first real time someone tried speaking of a future together with him, and it was with someone that forced him to fuck her against his will, someone who when he tried showing his true colours, always looked angry and violent he was having thoughts separate to her. Ygritte wanted his future to change to be one she would force herself to fit in, you were the one who tried to stand out of his way in case your feelings weren’t returned anymore.

But any future he saw, you were in it and you were his. He didn’t need you to marry him, but Jon knew that he certainly dreamed about it. And never before did the dream of marrying you feel closer then it did now. You were Robb’s wife and he didn’t want to take that away from you, but Jon couldn’t lie to himself and say that he didn’t wish he one day, might be able to call you his own wife.

It was a dream you both never thought was possible, and now there wasn’t a soul around you anymore who would find a problem with it. But you needed more time to heal then he did. He’d wait however long it took for you to find any comfort in the idea yourself.

It was always odd between you both. Your start was forbidden and slow, but the reunion was sudden, fast, and aggressive. Almost tormented by how you felt around him, how beautiful you were and the way the horrors of the world around him meant not a thing as long as he was inside you.

But now he wanted nothing more then to take it slow again. Just as the desire to call you his wife, Jon was also patient enough to take care of you as long as it took for you to be truly comfortable. In six years neither of you had gotten to the point you were ready to sleep together, now that you had?

Jon would wait a lifetime for you to be ready for him. Because were it reversed, you would wait an eternity for him to be ready for you. The past few days had been rough, and the future was uncertain in terms of the winter storms ahead, but as you both stood in front of the fire, finding no pressure to do anything beyond enjoy the gentleness of his kiss, Jon at least would savour this peace.

You wanted him to feel at peace, and he would do whatever it took to give that to you in return.

As the sun shined bright against the strange land, the only thoughts he could focus on were that he still had time. From everything he could gather without tipping a soul off, he had enough time to ensure everything over twenty years worked towards would make it before it could no longer be hidden. The skin was already grotesque. It was but a small patch, barley noticeable unless one were to rake his sleeves up high and even then, he made sure he was covering any and every chance it could spread.

No one knew after all. No one but him felt the disgust of the waters of Old Valyria seep into him like a thick poison, no one felt the growing crack along his skin until it burst into a grey. A grey that now sat in almost a small circle of scales that looked of dusting stones to mock him in.

He wasn’t the boys father he told himself. He wasn’t his father, he just needed to fulfill this duty and he could die or disappear to rot away. But as he stood on a walls edge in the castle of Dragonstone, looking down to the boy turned man amongst the sell swords trying to train him like a solider?

Jon Connington could only feel a pull at his heart rather then his arm.

They weren’t Griff and Young Griff anymore. He was once more the man he used to be, the one once Hand of the King, and the person his most beloved friend had trusted with his son. His son was soon to drop that facade, and it was hard to remember that lately. But he had to remember, Rhaegar didn’t trust the baby to him, to be his father. No, Rheagar had trusted him to raise his son until he was ready to avenge his death and take his rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Jon Connington’s only solace was that they had arrived in Westeros to find it in a broken and disorganized state. It would take much time to rally anyone under the true heir now that he had returned to his people, would take time for anyone to heal their own Kingdoms enough to join back into one united Kingdom together.

He had just a little longer at least, to fight against this strong and frightening feeling to call this boy his son for real. Standing in the morning shine repeating like a mantra, he was doing this for Rhaegar, he wasn’t doing this as a father. Say the words he had said for twenty five some years now. It was only for Rhaegar.

But just maybe, the grey under his shirt was telling him that the sooner they conquered Westeros, the sooner Young Griff would become the true heir forever. The sooner he would never have use of the Griff which was posed as his father, ever again.

Aegon would have the blood of Rheagar Targaryean, and Jon Connington would have no one.

It was the fire and roar of a creature you did not recognize that you were pulled from. A knock coming to the door far too early in the morning that was harsh enough it startled you right out of whatever that dream was. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was surrounding you in the crypt of Winterfell set ablaze, and above shadows drifted across the skies like dark clouds that roared as they passed over. In the far distance was growls of a wolf and the cries of an infant, but the door was knocked at, and quickly the trails of the dream faded away.

You in particular were the one the guard at the door was looking for. Saying there were people here claiming to need to see you directly. Eyes still heavy with sleep, and barley having much time to make yourself presentable you brushed passed Jon’s insistence on making them wait five more minutes so you’re not walking through the castle freezing at least. That habit however, had not gone away since your time in Winterfell together last.

The side doors to the main hall opened, most of the corridors empty and cold in the morning chill as most whom were up and about had been on night duties. Standing together a the end of the hall however, woke you up right away.

Ser Davos Seaworth stood tall as he always did, no matter the task he was ready at action, but while carrying a hesitant and morose expression grimed onto his face. It however, was his companion that had you stop mid step, wide eyed and lips parting in a confused surprise.

Beside him, standing in the halls of Winterfell was Selyse Baratheon.

A look on her, was as similar as it was on your face. Eyes wide taking in the sight of her daughter almost so naturally in what was home to you now. Instead of parting in surprise though, her lips were tight and thin as she almost was holding herself back from speaking a word. Your mother had never before wanted to step foot in Winterfell and yet here she was.

Nodding silently to the guards, they took their leave and the door closing behind them sealed the three of you alone in the large hall. Your footsteps echoed as you came down the small steps and forward towards them, Davos being the one to meet you halfway as your mother held back. Your voice was a bit cracked still from sleep, but any louder and your voice would have caught in the air and bounced loudly off the walls for any to hear.

“If it weren’t so early, Ser Davos I might have said how glad I am to see you.”

Chuckling himself, he begun to glance over you. Looking no doubt for any signs of injury and coming up with none. Standing close he was equally as quiet but far more awake. “Well, I’ll just have to be the one then to congratulate on your defeat of the Boltons,” lowering to a bit more with a fondness, “And I’m relieved you’re alright.”

Neither of you felt the care to hold back, his hug warm and comforting as there was more in it then the words said. You had left knowing it was a bloodbath and potential slaughter your people were walking into, and to see you come out alive on the other end struck a cord in his heart. Pulling back, his hand comfortingly on your upper arm, Davos turned to stand more to your side as he moved out of view of your mother.

Your name quiet on her lips, and a few paces forward she walked. Unlike with him, neither you nor her had any rush to go to the other, and neither of you hugged or even moved in for one. You were thankful no one else was in the room, to many it looked heartless but there was an awkward pain as you both looked at the other. It always was with her, especially now. Glancing around the room, “So this is where we were sending you all those years.”

“More or less.” Not quite the warm home full of life it once had been, hard to imagine it being that way again anymore. Your arms crossed over your stomach as you inhaled, turning to somewhat keep both parties in your vision. “I don’t imagine you both travelled all this way to simply stop by and say hello.”

Ser Davos took charge, coming back over to you with a more hardened stern expression. “No, and as much as we’d like it to be, we’re here because your father sent us.” Your face must have shifted into something bordering from hesitant to filling with a panic, but only the three of you stood in the hall and you knew to not let it overtake yet.

“What? He change his mind on not calling me a traitor again?” Your mother had tried to plead your name in a mixture of stern yet on the side of a beg. But you kept your eyes on Davos, and the blunt truth in his found an answer a bit easier.

Shaking his head, “No, I can assure you, it’s far from that.” Glancing to Selyse for only a flickering of his eyes before finding yours, narrowing in your brows as you were finding pieces already to put together on your own. “You remember Pylos?”

Nodding, you could easily recall him. The young man sent to Dragonstone, only a few years older then yourself, to work for the time being under Maester Cressen. All knew why he was there, Cressen was getting old and Pylos was to be the Maester after him. Trying to pile it away under much more things you couldn’t focus on, you ignored that likely it meant the man had finally passed since last you saw him.

Your head tilted in a question, eyes narrowing at whatever was to come, but instead the echoing creak of a door filled the room. Both of them merely looked up behind you to see, whereas you took your time not quite looking away yet. If it was about Pylos, it was about Dragonstone and perhaps once upon a time you would have not thought much of it. But now, you couldn’t figure out what would have happened to bring the two of them all the way here themselves.

Davos stepped forward, closer to your side as you turned the same time to find Jon having joined.

Curls as loose and wild as they were when you had departed, and dressed down like anyone else, immediately catching your eye in a way that had you feel a bit more awake. It was as he approached giving you a silent glance, eyebrow raised as if to make a point as he wrapped his white fur cloak around your admittedly freezing frame. The cloak quickly becoming more like yours at this rate.

A sneaking glance to your mother and you felt the childish shame in you, a sharp tint in her eyes that no doubt had caught something in the small interaction and it only served to make you feel even stranger. As if she could sense something from there, and was waiting to shame you for it.

Jon seemed to take no notice of the uncomfortable air between mother and daughter as he greeted Davos. The two shaking hands as Davos held his own amusement. “I was about to call you Lord Commander, but I suppose it’s King Snow now isn’t it? No, that doesn’t sound right, does it? King Jon?”

Both held a smirk to the other as Jon shook his head with a light air about him, “It doesn’t matter.” Looking up to your mother, nothing but a soft politeness towards her with a nod and respectfully keeping a distance he by now, understood she would prefer. “Surprise to see you here, my lady but a pleasant one.”

Selyse nodded, not saying much as she turned her attention back to you. This time your attention cut between all three and finding an unease in your heart over something you didn’t quite grasp, but Davos took charge for both of you. “At least it makes this easier, having both of you here.” Jon’s eyes only narrowed slightly in question, whereas your heart begun to race the slightest bit, tensing your muscles in their entirety as they did so. “I know yourself and Stannis did not part on the best of terms, your grace,” Davos now coming more back to you, an ask tinted in his eyes to simply hear him out first. “But he sent me here, himself. He’s received news that he insisted the both of you need to know.”

Your tone perhaps, was a bit on the unnecessarily biting side when it was not really deserved. “And it was something he couldn’t sent a raven for? Sending you both seems like a drastic action.” This time the uncertain look was between the two of them. Davos looking to Selyse as she only tilted her head in a small nod, speaking something you couldn’t detect to him.

“It might be easier if you read it for yourself.” Slowly, he pulled out an already opened raven scroll his hand slow as he raised it up to you specifically with a warning edge across his features as if to brace yourself. “Maester Pylos sent this to the King, arrived urgently in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes were wide, chest not moving much as air refused to flow through all of the piling nerves. A slow grasp of the paper before it sat heavy in your hands. Unfurling it to reveal the contents, you had turned slightly away from all three of them. Pacing towards the steps by the high table as your eyes took in the writing.

Jon had given Davos a questioning look, but he only looked towards where your back had turned against them in patience. He knew too well what it said, and you knew why he had chosen to let you read first.

Read and reread over and over, all of the air in your lungs had sought to leave your body. A tightening inside, your heart shrinking along with the force as something you couldn’t decide between a wide eyed astonishment came over your features, but the almost shaking panic in your muscles had you feeling the need to lash out.

There was no way this was true, it was impossible. But your father wasn’t a man to believe in petty rumours and whispers. No, Stannis knew what you would’ve needed from Dragonstone as well as he did and if he wanted you to know this, then this was real and it was serious. You couldn’t figure out the degree to which that scared you.

Turning back to face them, that fearful astonishment was painted heavily over your features as you looked to Davos. “Has anyone else-”

Knowing just what you were to ask, “We received reports from both the ports and villages as well. I don’t know if it’s gotten to the mainlands yet, but it will soon.”

Stepping slowly back, you let go of the raven scroll from the tightness in both your hands from the dumbfounded feeling inside you. Coming beside Jon, you didn’t hide or even find will to vary that same expression as you silently handed it to him.

As he read the words, you paced more, leaving to the opposite side far from any as you ran a hand over your mouth. Trying so badly to keep a calm, but then Jon tensed as well. A darker paint flowing over his eyes and a bewildered expression moving between you and Davos. He reread it as many times as you had, his voice rough, rasping and almost incredulous. “How would no one have known about this?”

You utterly hated the answer that Davos also had for it. An answer Jon wouldn’t have the experiencing to feel the chilling breeze from such a truth, but one that made you wanted to throw something, maybe scream. “We can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem impossible. One of his trusted advisors, is Lord Varys.”

The huffing breath of a laugh that left your lips was utterly meaningless. Your anger saw a chance to grow right before their eyes as you leaned against the table. Your eyes burning in a blaze staring at the floor as your hands tensed enough you risked the digging in your palms. “For the good of the realm..” Only a whisper, and now you truly wished to go down to the crypts and atone to Eddard Stark for having been forced to play and die in part of this game. Your voice was louder, trying to keep a barley held back anger sat just on the inside. “Who does he already have?”

“They have the Golden Company at their backs,” Your eyes narrowed, those kinds of numbers would be unsustainable on Dragonstone for long periods of time you knew too well. Davos continued however, “None have come to his side yet, but we knew of some who will likely declare for him once he makes his presence known.”

Your own voice finding some of those answers on your own, “Fair to assume the Martell's will, given they believe his story. So will the Tarly’s, and the Hightower’s.” Missing entirely a passing twist in Jon’s expression as you and Davos looked at the other.

This was why you knew he had to be sent here himself, this was too much to send in a raven. Davos stepped forward with a nod, “The numbers they have now aren’t great, they know they can’t keep many there for good, eventually they’ll have to make a run for the mainlands.”

One arm moved to cross around your stomach while the other rested up on it, your nails tapping at your lips trying to see enough of your time around the Royal Fleet to grasp what the best options for them would be. “They can’t go right for King’s Landing, they don’t have enough enough support for it, so we just need to get there before anyone with a sizable fleet can declare for him. At this point I don’t particularly care where they go after that, but we need Dragonstone more then they do.”

His voice rung out, louder then the quiet mumbling between you and Davos catching both of your attention as Jon put things together in his own mind. “I’m assuming you weren’t sent here hoping I’d make my people fight in someone else's war.” A darker, sharper flash was through his eyes as Jon stepped closer. “Stannis knows the only reason I need Dragonstone is to gain access to it’s mines, I’m not here to join any fight for the Iron Throne.”

Something more of an understanding came over Davos, and you were once more thankful it was him who was sent here and not your father himself. “I think he’s starting to finally learn that lesson.” You didn’t look at either of them. Only the floor as they spoke.

“Otherwise, I shall destroy you.”

The confidence in such a declaration that you and Robb were to be his enemies, and perhaps you knew this anger and spite in your heart towards your father just may have not forgiven him for that day.

Jon and Davos now, finding a plan as your mind had faded in and out of the present. “So I reach out first, I’m not here to question his legitimacy, I need one thing and if he cooperates then we don’t need to fight. But, I’m taking my men there all the same.”

Your mind had clearly drifted off longer then you thought you had, looking back up Jon and Davos were standing close having gone back and forth between things for some time it seemed like. Selyse, had been switching between watching them, and keeping an eye on your fading distance. You did not return the glance to her back.

Your name getting called by Jon, with the same kind of watchful gaze deep in his eyes as well, as he spoke quieter to you. “Are you with me?” To the others, sounding much like asking if you were agreeing to the plans, but you knew better. He was trying to gauge where your mind was sitting at without drawing attention to the concern behind it.

Nodding firmly, you pushed up and off the table coming closer to them. “I’ll have the men start gathering the Lords here right away.” He didn’t dispute it, but it clearly was an excuse to get yourself to leave the room without them quicker. But it was Davos, who stopped you.

Only letting you get a few feet towards the main doors, calling your name gently before pulling slowly something from a pocket. He was the one to meet you where you stood, handing a chain to you, a sturdy metal with a solid casing shaped in an almost diamond shape. Your brows rose in question, but his voice was soft as he placed it gently into your palm. “I told you I’d take her to visit you myself.”

You said not a single word as all of the air in you left. Neither other party there knowing what exactly it was which just occurred but Davos could see the red behind your eyes wanting to turn to tears and fall in that exact second. You just nodded, closing your hand tightly around it before making your leave quickly.

Giving instructions to some of the men nearby before you walked to an empty hall, all but throwing yourself against the wall out of sight. The necklace wasn’t anything one would call special, but it also wasn’t the simplicity of what you gave Davos first. He didn’t just keep her safe, he took what was left and had it made into something you could keep around your neck for any time or reason.

Your head hanging low as you clutched it tightly, holding it to your heart as your lungs burned wanting to find that strange mixture of pain to cry at, but instead you let your head thud back into the stone wall. Trying to breathe deeply, letting your eyes slip shut before any tears fell. You couldn’t do this now, you couldn’t think on her right now. There were more important things to prepare for, and yet it was only the sight and sounds of her calling your name. That last visit you saw of her, and how she had jumped into your arms with such excitement to see you.

Her head burying in your neck as you held her back tightly. Now you could stay there, Shireen. Safe right with me no matter what now. Your heart screamed in a burning pain, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it’s agony now. Or how such a simple act from Davos, was more then a single thing shared that day between you and your father over her.

You told Shireen you would one day bring her here, but she’d have to hold off a little bit longer before you could spend the right time making her at home. Right now, duty demanded things of you and pain in your heart was not part of that. No matter how much you wished it were.

If one was to ask both the free folk and the Northern Lords all in attendance, they would have said it was something that filled with pride. Those who knew them both well, those who knew the father before him and all those who once thought up there would be Robb Stark. But it wasn’t Robb sitting in his home as King in the North, nor was it Lord Eddard Stark sitting there was Warden of the North.

Instead, many found the sight of their new King in the North to be one that inspired. Jon Snow stood tall in his place, now covering the light layers of fabric and leathers was the same fur which had adorned him the previous day. Dark browns mixed with tints of black that sat as broad across his shoulders as ones like it did his father and brother. To the Northerners, it didn’t stand out to them that the other which sat next to the left of him. You had been Queen before, and none saw you less then now, as did the King.

Jon wasn’t a foreigner from the south, he was one that the people knew. Despite if he thought they would not see him or remember, they did. And you by his side instead of once Robb’s was not out of place either. The King in the North didn’t hide the deep care in his heart for you, nor did any think he should. But if they were to ask you both of your emotions?

It was a different story. To Jon, he was as sure in his words as he was unsure of his new title. King sounded wrong attached to him. Ser Davos had joked with him about both Snow and Jon sounding odd against the word King and yet deep down he felt it. He wasn’t Robb, but this was his Kingdom and all he could think was how much were his people judging him against his brother? What of his weaknesses would they sniff out in a second and wish it was different.

Was he worthy of his father’s seat? Did sitting feel so strange because he somehow felt that he hadn’t earned the things his father did? It all sat in his heart, but he couldn’t focus on that. He had to look at what was right in front of him, because no one else would. No other King or Kingdom would look at the truth and fight for it but he had to. Regardless of the insecurity in his heart. He could only press on, hoping he was not a disappointment to his father.

You however, felt your heart racing as you kept such a cold and still expression some may have thought you were a statue, had most here not been used to you. For the entire war, you and Robb had struggled to discuss a future in Winterfell knowing the state of war made what if’s difficult to see passed. But now, you did sit here, at the King in the North’s side in Winterfell but you couldn’t stop that wonder if you were looked down on for it.

It was an uncomfortable thought, and whether or not you truly realized it, the amount of taunting and mocking of Ramsay was doing it. The slimy words of accusing you of sleeping with the wolves, degrading you by acting as if you where some whore for the Stark men and now you couldn’t stop the fear that your people saw it that way too. Fucking your way back into being a Queen, going from one King in the North’s bed to the next.

Jon’s voice was loud in the hall, projecting to all present, many crowded around the tables and some finding a place against the walls around to watch. “We know of three ways to fight back against them. I cut through one of them using a Valyrian Steel sword and they shattered right in front of my eyes. We also know that fire kills them. The free folk have been burning their dead for hundreds of years because anytime they might rise back up.”

There weren’t whispers, but the Lords did look to each other with glances of varying worry. The free folk in attendance all looked with a pride of their own, as it grew better by the day of how many of the Northerns had begun to accept their presence.

“Burning the dead keeps them from the Others finding a way to raise them up for their army, and fire also will kill any that’s returned to life. Lord Commander Mormont was attacked by a wight, and no normal weapon could hurt it until we lit it on fire.”

It was not a promising outlook thus far. A steel which had little in existence, as well as the instability of fire as a defence. One final option though, came both with promise, but a caveat. “They also can be killed with dragonglass. One of my brothers in the Night’s Watch had found a stash of daggers carved from Dragonglass at the Fist of the First men, and when he shoved one of them into their backs, they shattered just as they did with Valyrian Steel. Dragonglass can kill Wights, it can kill the Others, meaning it’s more valuable now to us then gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons out of it.”

The question arose from the crowd, just as it had from Theon when the three of you discussed it alone. “Where would we even get Dragonglass? Unless that stash you lot found is enough for share in the thousands.”

You had been sat beside him, and as Jon turned to look at you, you gave a slight nod. He knew exactly as you knew now, and you didn’t prefer taking over the meeting from his voice. Turning back to the people, he was a bit more hesitant knowing the cost to come.

Gesturing to you for a brief moment, “The island of Dragonstone is build on top of a massive deposit of Dragonglass, there are tunnels all over the underground that are filled with more then enough to arm every man, woman, and child in the North. We’ll need men with skills mining, carve out tunnels to access it properly and we bring it back North.”

Lord Wyman Manderly spoke up from his place, “So we need ships, and men to mine. And it just so happens, your grace, we have both.”

A warmth in Jon’s tone with a nod, “Your enthusiasm is much appreciated my lord, but this isn’t going to be that simple.” His tone was rougher, lower, and a warning encased in it’s edge that all understood something was coming more then they thought. “We just recently have received word that Dragonstone is being occupied by a Southern Army. One led by a man using his place there to make his claim as heir to the Iron Throne, who won’t be too happy with what we’re about to ask.”

He was quiet, and you knew you had to be the one to say it. Palms braced against the wooden surface, you almost found no ability to even take a deep breathe as you look to them all. Glancing to Jon, and only for a split second did you find a soothing ease in the assurance in his grey eyes. Taking a deeper breathe you stood properly beside him.

Jon himself, tried very hard to ignore how it felt watching you speak with such confident but calming authority to his people, all with his own white furs gently draped over your own shoulders.

“Whether who he is saying he is, is true or not, Dragonstone is being occupied by a man claiming to be Aegon Targaryean.” Whispers this time flew through the Northern Lords like a breeze blowing in the air but with words in disbelief. “The army at his side is made up of the Golden Company, meaning if they deny a truce, we will be fighting our way onto the island. Lord Wyman, how many ships do you have currently?”

“Publically? Twenty three.”

You found a bit of a smirk his way, raising one eyebrow in jest, “And not publically?”

“Sixty. Most of which I can have fitted to sail for war by the new moon.”

You nodded, knowing Jon was letting you do some of this knowing your understanding of Dragonstone outweighed almost all in the hall. “Our biggest problem will be getting onto the island itself. The castle faces out to the Narrow Sea but most of the island is surrounded by rocks and mountain sides. There’s a small gap that leads to the beaches and from there we have two ways to the castle. One going the long away, following a long path up to the cliff side, and the other up scaling along the curtain itself and coming up behind them. As long as we get through that gap, we can surround them. But we will need enough manpower to get our feet on the ground in the first place.”

The lands were complicated, more complicated then many would think. All of you would have to be in on a very detailed plan if it were to work. It was an unforgiving terrain for those not familiar with it.

Hard to gauge everyone’s reactions at once, but it seemed that most in the hall truly understood what was to come. Understood that as Jon spoke, it didn’t matter what personal matters were felt on the matter, it was about doing what needed to be done. “Stannis Baratheon has a fleet of at least sixty of his own garrisoned at Eastwatch by the sea. He knows the kind of fight we are up against, and he knows why we need Dragonstone. If we add his ships to yours Lord Wyman, then we have a fighting chance.”

Lord Dustin seemed to stand with protest, one that was not quite welcome in the air. “We denied him as our King-”

Jon though, was strict. His voice commanding against the man and were it to be seen, would have almost pushed him back in his spot. “I’m not joining to make him our King.” Looking to Tormund in the distance, the man finding a smirk as he looked up to Jon’s words. “I’m not King of the free folk, but if we’re going to survive this winter together then we need to learn to fight side by side without arguing about joining one side or another. The North is our home, and you chose me as your King. That isn’t changing just because we ally with another King for the only cause that matters.”

Tormund’s own voice was full of an amusement that radiated through the other Lords. “If my people can follow him,” gesturing to where Jon stood, “without kneeling down to him then all of us together can teach the same lesson to this Southerner, whether he likes it or not.”

Agreement’s rumbled, and Lord Dustin sat with nothing more on the subject in his mouth. Lord Wyman took that mantle up, “I can send a raven to Eastwatch by the sea, see if the man’s willing to see reason. That way we have our ships all in once place if he agrees to meet with ours in White Harbour.”

One proper benefit of Jon being King, was that you could slip away amongst the crowds around him once the meeting had dispensed. Lord Wyman already leaving for White Harbour, giving at least some hope this would not be a fruitless endeavour.

The snow surrounding it was indescribable. A blanket of white that laid undisturbed against the ground, and a barley there reflection against water asking to freeze over soon. The Weirwood stood somehow taller then you remembered, the red was so bright and outstanding against the winter around it. Red leaves that bled in colour moving down to a white bark that blended so well. As if the face and the leaves were the only thing in the land that wasn’t snow.

Once upon a time, you had been scared to come here. The old gods had little rules and your small mind didn’t understand what you were supposed to follow. Fearing the Seven would punish you for praying in a sept so close to where the Northerns sat under a bleeding face carved into a Weirwood. But the last time you were here was nothing of the sort.

It looked nothing like that day. The warmth, the green all around and the water shining against what sun peeked through the other trees in the godswood. Right up there, he stood. The panic swirling in your veins as Ned Stark comforted you with every care of a father, bringing you out to his son as you found a life with him. The face you had once as a child been scared to look at, had been something you lifted your eyes too, finishing a prayer in silence asking to find a love that was genuine and true with Robb.

The old gods answered. They gave you that. But now, as you stood feet away from it, the winter finally making it’s way around the lands and threats coming you never could have conceived in those days impending on you. What would you even say to them this time, was there even a word you could pray which would matter? You had not the bravery to go any closer.

Not the strength alone to disturb the untouched beauty around the Weirwood as if this was a place you had a right to pray in. A sept still stood, but you also were fairly certain the Seven might just open a hole in the ground and damn you to a vision of hell for how little you held to just one. The Seven, the Old Gods, and the whispers under a fire god that your own family had taken up with in eithers place.

What did give you bravery, or force it on you, was being knocked in the back by something large. You stumbled forward just a tad as you turned around with a narrowed glare until you came upon the sight of something just as white and red as the tree itself. Ghost stood tall behind you, his fur blending with the snow around him with eyes red as if they matched the Weirwood’s leaves shining in the colourless surrounding.

A little huff in the direwolf came out as he looked at you before bumping you almost childishly once more. Truly the fact that this was a great beast almost was a joke. Running his head along your side as he did so, and his eyes shutting with a slight pant as you ran your nails along his head and around his ears. Looking back up eventually, he stared at you in silence but the same affection in his face. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

Ghost followed by your side as you approached. The water just reflecting enough that you could see the red wavering in the slightest of breezes around. Pulling the fur tighter around your front as a shiver left your mouth, cold enough you breathe fogged the space it touched. Each step you took as you finally came under the branches, you felt out of place in your mind even though something settled in your heart.

Prayers, words, steps, rituals, rules to be followed came every part of the way under the Seven and sometimes you felt lost here. Not knowing what you should say or do, when every part of faith in childhood had told you to be detailed and specific in every word and prayer uttered. But that wasn’t what was asked of you here.

A gloved hand carefully tracing your fingertips down the trunk beside the carved face as your eyes looked up wide and bright as a peek of sunlight shined down just enough to send slivers of light across the snowy ground. Ghost stood beside you, watching you and around as he looked like a wolf which came right from the roots of the tree. Carved into the bark and came to life, only it’s red leaves only found a spot in his eyes. Open wide at all times, seeing any and everything unlike the carved faces with eyes always closed.

Something was warmer in your chest, recognizing an aura of this place that found peace while your logic told you this wasn’t enough for the gods. You needed to repent, offer gifts and sacrifice, plead of punishment to rectify your sins. You had no idea what you were supposed to believe.

It took a while to convince yourself it was alright to sit down. Gently brushing snow from your way to sit, facing the water as Ghost stepped beside you. Looking at him with a tilt in your head you smiled, “This time I actually do know what you want, but I assure you there is no chance of you curling up on my lap.”

As if he knew exactly what you said, which he probably did, Ghost gave a whine before huffing. Settling beside you as his head sat down against your thighs, your hand naturally giving itself a home to run across his fur. Watching him in silence, the time passed as the day grew colder and colder. Not having gone back after such an early morning to dress any warmer then this, you just let the cold sit around you.

Just like last time, you didn’t see or hear him coming until he already spoke. “It would be easier to scold you for not dressing properly, if you didn’t look so beautiful.”

You and Ghost both turning your heads to see Jon approaching. Him naturally, finding it no kind of difficult to come right up. This was his home, and they were his gods. What of it would there be to keep him away. On the other hand, there was a simplicity of your own the way in which you spent no notice admiring him.

Clearly dressed warmer, more layers and leathers then what you had in merely a dress and fur around your shoulders. The fur sitting around him doing a better job even more, at keeping him that warm against the breeze. His hair was down more it seemed in his own home, sitting loose and wild almost making you smile. Jon could tell the way you didn’t realize you were staring, but only settled down right beside you.

Unlike the last though, Jon spared no time and took the liberty to pull you more into his side, arm wrapped around you to trace up your waist. Ghost settled once more against you, the moving position allowing him to better lay down with his head in your thighs against the uneven land. Your tone was soft as it murmured out looking over him so close, “I think it’s just your clothes you enjoy on me.”

It could’ve broken your heart if it didn’t feel so normal. How Jon’s gloved hand danced up to run along your neck before pulling you over to kiss the top of your head, stretching his thumb to run along your cheek as you leaned the other more against him. His chuckle was deep, vibrating somewhat against you. “I promise you, it’s both.”

Nodding against him, you weren’t tired in your mind, just in muscles as you barley got out in a clear tone, “When did our lives become so complicated?”

Once more, Jon’s hand slid down to your waist, as the other picked up your free one and lifted it up to rest over the leathers covering his heart. Your fingers dig slightly into the material as if trying to feel it beat under. Then tilting your chin up to look at him, grey eyes wide and full of a sparkling love that you could barley look into. “Our lives were always complicated, now it’s just going to take a little more to get out of it.”

You nodded once more. Keeping your attention occupied with the white direwolf on one side of you, and the white wolf with his arms keeping you against his side. Turning your head up, you met part of his neck and furs around him, slightly nuzzling into him before resting once more as he cupped the side of your head keeping you there. “You never let me say it back yesterday, that I love you.”

“I don’t need you to say it for me to know. I know you love me, we’ve always loved each other and we both always felt it.” He had resisted the urge to bury his face in your hair right away, but he wanted you to hear him properly. Sighing out gently, your eyes sliding closed as if to rest against him this way, Jon never let you go. A hand around to your waist, while the other reached over you both to cup your head against his neck, turning his face into your hair finally.

The cold gave you another shiver, catching Jon’s attention who pulled you back closer to his side, turned in place enough to watch your face closely. “When my father reaches White Harbour, I’m going to go meet with him. If we are to do this together, no one knows Dragonstone better then us. We can put a plan in place for when the rest of you show up. Figure out how we are going to get our feet onto the ground and the rest in your hands will be easy.”

His hold on you was tighter, a clench slightly in his jaw as he considered it. Quiet for a good moment before you gently murmured his name, finally he rasped out, “I’m trying to find a reason to make you stay that’s better then I don’t want you to go.”

You smiled a small bit at that, facing him better as well and the truth in his eyes wasn’t controlling or demanding. More like you were still those young children, you sick and unconscious in bed, and Jon was still afraid to keep his eyes off of you for too long. Tracing your hand along his jaw, you smiled much more as his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Your own voice was low in a whisper. “I’m only going to to White Harbour, I’m not leaving for war without you this time. Only ensuring everything is ready for you when you catch up. You could still order to me stay if you really want to however, you are King.”

Jon rolled his eyes that time. “I thought you Baratheon’s didn’t like being told what to do.”

The response on your lips only made Jon roll his eyes even harder that time with a much easier smirk on his face. Your shoulder shrugging with a flat, hardly concealed sass on your face. “I’m also a Stark now, and besides I think we both know that’s not quite true with me.”

Always a strange time when thoughts like it came up, but he couldn’t help once more but feel ashamed at how much he had once tried replacing you in his mind with Ygritte. You always trusted him, listened to him, and deep down would never go against something he said or did. Especially as a Queen by his side now, he knew you well enough to be certain you’d follow every command which would come out of his rule. He didn’t need that level of dedication to his word, but you didn’t do it out of obligation. You trusted him and his choices, just as he knew without having to ask, that you gave such dedication equally to Robb.

Whereas Ygritte almost hated the idea of not being so aggressively in charge at all times. Jon could look at you now, and he could almost hear the insults and degrading at how you were letting someone like Jon order you around. Would think you were weak to let him be the one in charge, to be the one you trusted to take care of you instead of demanding you do it yourself.

When in truth he knew you stood so firmly on your own effortlessly, and you listened to Jon when it mattered. This time however, his order wasn’t much of an order. But advice that no matter how difficult it would be for you in your heart, was for your own good. For your good and for Stannis as well. They had their disagreement’s, but Stannis was a man Jon respected in a lot of ways. He didn’t expect you to see it the same way, much like how you never expected Jon to have the same dynamic with his father that you had developed.

More reassured this time, finding only trust as you looked at him. “Go easy on him, your father. He knows as well as I do what we’re really up against out here, and he’s trying to do the right thing. You don’t have to forgive him, but hating him won’t make you feel any better.”

Nodding, you shifted once more, leaning your head against his shoulder as you both sat in the silence of the cold before the Weirwood. Only speaking up once more in a small, but amusingly confused tone in your ear. “Now I have to ask, is there a reason your mother keeps giving me that look?”

He didn’t expect you to laugh right away, but you certainty did. A waver in your voice failing to keep back how amusing you found it. “She’s not particularly a fan of you Northerners. Thinks you’re all unkempt, unruly, and unfitting for her daughter. That and I suspect she might know we sleep in the same bed, which she will entirely have judged you for allowing.”

The flat expression on his face was even funnier then the question he had just asked. “Probably shouldn’t tell her about what I did when I first woke up in Castle Black, then.” You flushed, looking away as if you both hadn’t come close to finding that harmony together again since. “If she’s that worried, strictly speaking, Northerners don’t actually many people there for us to get married. Could do it right now, put her poor mind at ease.”

“Somehow, I think it’s too late to save your honour in her eyes, Snow.”

Tones both in joking, but a small part of you and a large part of him knew that it wasn’t untrue. It wasn’t something neither had thought of outside that moment, but there was too much in your mind to make sense of that idea just yet. Too much in your life you couldn’t push back yet.

Jon to his own credit, at least could obsess over the idea quietly in his mind with no issue. He did though, lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your own moulding to his in an instant, turning to gently move your hands to run up his collarbones and around the back of his neck. Hands finding the easy desire to run through his curls, nails scratching at his scalp as you did so. His free hand now cupping your cheek and jaw, tilting you up to stay against him as the one around your waist slid now to hold you tenderly at your hip.

Never picked up, never grew heated. Just a gentle kiss with more passion in his touch then innocent, but he only kissed and held you just as he was in that moment. Never pushed you for more, just the beg to not part from him just yet. He wasn’t ready to see you go yet, not here and not later. Not even ever, if he were being truthful.

“You should eat more.”

Finding the strength within you not to either roll your eyes or sigh out in annoyance. Her tone came off in a lecturing condescension when you knew she meant well. You had good intentions joining her for supper, she was going to be here for an unknown amount of time, she came all this way when she didn’t have too but it didn’t make being alone any easier.

You had barley made much of a dent in your food, and she had paid close attention to it. “You’re wasting away enough as it is. As long as it’s in front of you, you should at least eat.”

Taking a bite, likely in a more dramatic fashion then was mature but you did not come here to be scolded like a child. Giving a look to her as it to ask if that were satisfactory, she only raised an eyebrow before leaving the topic behind.

The fingertips of your free hand tapped at the table in her quarters, looking to the small amount she brought with her which could fit on her horse. “How long were you planning on staying?” Her features barley moved, but you caught a slight twitch in her jaw as she realized what you were looking at. “You didn’t bring much, am I assuming you’re returning to father when I leave for White Harbour?”

For all your doubts, she looked down. Tearing from watching your own gaze as she sighed. Your brows narrowed in confusion at her, but her voice was quiet as she explained. “Your father had only sent Ser Davos here, I was not thought to be sent at all. I came on my own.” You really gave a more confused look but you stayed silent. “You told me to stay with him because you thought I would find purpose with him, I would do better there.”

Your jaw clenched as did the words pushing out of your mouth. “You supported him over four years as your King. He’s your husband, I don’t see why you wouldn’t choose to stay at his side.”

Selyse wished you would look at her, but she understood why you didn’t. Your name coming softly from her mouth, “I have hardly been a mother to you. I pushed you away, and then never tried to reconcile that even after seeing the woman you had become without me. And I have no one to blame but myself for not being there.”

Your eyes flickered up to her somewhat, a doubt in them and your mind but there was a skip in your heart at finding no lies in her face. “It’s not your fault. I was young when you lost your first two, and by the time you were ready to be a mother again, you had Shireen. I never resented you for that, I understood by then I wasn’t putting the effort in either.”

The necklace sat heavy in your pocket, not yet having the bravery to put in on.

The quiet was tense, palpable enough it seeped into the food still sat on your plates. “You do, for what I did to her.” The weight in your throat plummeted down to your stomach and sent you feeling as if the floor beneath you would open up and trap you within it forever. “I was upset, I felt desperate and I thought I had none left and..I let her talk me into it. I can’t change that, I can’t ask you or anyone else to forgive me for it. That will always be my fault, and you should hate me for it.”

Voice but a whisper, you leaned your arms more crossed against the table. A somewhat ill mannered position at supper for you, but the weight of the her memory pushed you from sitting any kind of straight and proper. “Hating you won’t bring her back. Hating Roose Bolton never brought Robb back, so why would doing so feel better now.” There was a rare shine behind your mother’s eyes, one that seeped with sadness from a heart you rarely saw towards you. “I don’t quite know if I am ready in my heart to forgive you, but I don’t hate you. If you wouldn’t let me blame myself for her, I won’t blame you for letting that woman manipulate you into it.”

Your eyes met and for once neither looked away as there was a genuine honesty in her. “I will join you when you sail for Dragonstone, but when you leave, I will too.” Your brows narrowed as she cleared her throat slightly almost in an awkwardness. “I haven’t been a mother to you since you were a girl, so let me do it now. If you want me to leave I will, but if not, I came here for you. Not for war. For you.”

It was a heavy feeling that continued to get worse. The weight of a truth she hardly gave to you, and yet her eyes were sad warm as they were full of sorrow. You suspected, you looked at her with the very same. You never had a life where Selyse was properly in it, and having her there now was foreign. But, turning her away wasn’t the solution which felt right in your heart. It felt more cruel.

Jon had said you can’t get better if you never talk about her, and perhaps you needed to give your mother that chance. No matter how strange and uncomfortable it would be. She was still your mother, and she was trying. You only nodded though, throat too closed to work even after swallowing down the water in front of you.

There was a quiet as you pulled yourself together, sitting up properly and promptly wiping away the small water gathered by your eyes you didn’t notice before. As if humouring her, you took another bite before speaking. “I can have you moved to better quarters, something more suitable for you long term. I’ll also send for someone to get you some warmer things to wear. If I’m going to get lectured for not dressing properly for the winter, then you have to as well.”

Shaking her head slightly, “The room is fine, it will only be me. I don’t need much.”

You two were back to quiet for a good while, the silence not unobtrusive or awkward. You and Selyse tended to be the most quiet of all your family. Stannis was not much of a chatty man, but you certainly got your tendency to enjoy the silence from your mother. But there was one more thing she found the bravery to speak.

“She would have been proud. Your sister. Shireen would have been proud to see how far you’ve come.”

Not much thought came into it, as you pulled out the necklace, placing it gently between you both. A slight tear in your tone trying not to let any tears fall. “I kept a small part of her, what was left that night I mean. When we came here, I didn’t know if we would be able to win and I didn’t want any part of her near the Boltons so I gave what remained to her to Davos to keep safe. Told me he would bring her to visit himself if we won.”

You tilted your head as she hesitated to pick it up. There was nothing to see, and even if there was it was just greys and tints of white of bone which were scattered left. But she held it with all the same kind of care as you did those final moments with her in that room. Something close to tears in her own voice. “She did always speak of going on adventures with you.” Nodding you over, she stood from her seat holding the necklace. “Come here, he went through the trouble to have this made at least wear it like you’re supposed too.”

Her tone was stern, but not the glint in her eyes that matched.

You took your time, coming to stand by her, turning around as you pulled your hair out of her way so she could drape the necklace around your neck. Sitting just underneath the high seam of your dress she linked it together in the back. In a surprise, she moved your hair back into place, smoothing it out neatly all on her own before giving you space once more.

Looking down at it, before hiding it under the fabric. It wasn’t there to be shown off, it was there to keep her with you. Facing your mother once more both of you found little ability to speak. “Thank you.”

What you wished would stay quiet though, didn’t as some time later did she say the one thing that set your nerves off. Food long finished and taken away, now you both had been finding small things to speak on when she finally asked what you had dreaded. “Are you and that boy sleeping in the same bed?”

You pushed your chair back to try and stand, and Selyse called you back louder with more of a motherly scold in her tone that made you feel much like a child again for not listening too. “I’m not listening to this right now.”

“You two are not married, he shouldn’t be acting as if you are some tavern slut to keep his bed warm at night.” You tried protesting, your voice higher pitched and almost embarrassed as you looked back at her lecturing glare. “Being a King does not mean he can ignore protecting your honour-”

If it was possible to force yourself to melt into the floor and die on impact you would’ve done it right then and there just to avoid this conversation. “Mother, if you recall, I was married. I was pregnant even, I think I’ve long since passed the point of having any honour left to protect.”

She was silent and you absolutely felt like a child the way she was watching you. “Don’t tell me he’s-”

Turning towards the door, you walked away as your blood boiled in a horrific shame. “That will be all, mother. I wish you goodnight.” Selyse once more said your name in a lecturing tone but you took your quick leave as nothing but a red, warm embarrassment came over your cheeks and drenched itself into your mind.

It was lovely, being a grown woman through as much horror as you had experienced and yet the second she started speaking you could almost see yourself as the young teenage girl she used to have to give such lectures over before.

At least Maege had a very good laugh over it when you told her later that evening.

Preparing his entire life to take on this responsibility was one thing, but a completely different feeling now that he was being told more and more to act on it. He was to be King, so he had to make choices a King would make.

“You will be making decisions far harder then this everyday when you claim the Throne.”

He could grumble and sigh all he liked, but it was true. He wasn’t allowed to be Young Griff anymore, he was supposed to be Aegon. Supposed to be the rightful heir, the true leader of the Seven Kingdoms, son of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, and yet as soon as the raven came he looked to Griff like the boy he used to be.

Young Griff looking to his father to help guide him onto what’s the right path. Only, if he wasn’t Young Griff anymore, that meant Griff was no longer his father. He was once more Jon Connington, and they were no longer father and son training for a destiny far in their future. It was now, and he couldn’t be that boy anymore.

Being Aegon meant he had to find it in himself to take after Rhaegar. But no stories told of his blood father had felt connected to who he was in his soul. He had to be his father’s heir, but he wasn’t the one who spent his entire life raising him as his son. Rhaegar was his father, Jon Connington had been trusted to keep him safe, but it was Griff that raised him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as it once felt back when he was far from Westeros.

But now, as he read the raven over and over he was trying to ask himself what would Rhaegar expect of him, but came back up blank. He had no idea what he would do or say, and so he could only look at Connington and hope he understood his silent plea. Which he did.

Glancing subtly to the men around the room before moving to come close to Aegon’s side at the end of the painted table he lowered his voice, something more guileful in tone. “What does your first instinct tell you?”

His first instinct was to just let these people have what they wanted. What did he care about rocks and scary bed time tales? It didn’t change his ambition for the Throne. But he had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t be something Rhaegar would have chosen to do. Not from what he was told of him. So he had to find a new answer.

“If he’s calling himself a King, that means he assumes he has no duty to kneel to my rule.” A silence in the room waited for him to figure it out, Connington at his side waiting and watching with all the patience he suspected his blood father wouldn’t have given him. Turning to look at him with a more determined look in his eye, “I think if he wants what we have, he can ask for permission. After kneeling before me, and beg for forgiveness for keeping part of my own Kingdom from me.”

The men in the room looked approvingly at his fierce tone, stance broad as he braced his palms against the painted table. But when he glanced back to Connington, he wasn’t sure he was finding the same in his eyes, but whatever it was instead got covered up quickly.

“You are the King, the true heir to the Iron Throne. If this is your decision, then he can either bend the knee or pay the price. I can have Maester Pylos send a raven back right away if this is what you want.” He was calm and patient, the tone of Griff towards a younger, unsure, learning Young Griff.

But he had to be Aegon now. And Aegon’s father was not Jon Connington, his father was Rheagar Targaryean. Nodding once he looked him sure in the eyes. “There is only one true King, and it isn’t some pretender telling tall tales.” Young Griff didn’t like the choice he was about to make, but Aegon Targaryean would have too.

“This Jon Snow can either bend the knee like everyone else, or die fighting against it.”

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

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asa-do-your-thing · 3 months

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The rainbow trout

Robb Stark x Frey Reader 18 + MINORS DNI WC: 5,1k Warnings: forced marriage, mentions death, alcohol, dubcon, angst

You knew you weren't his first choice. You also knew what would happen, should Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, not accept your hand, so you did everything in your power to convince him to marry anyone of your female relatives. You sent him coded messages, diguised yourself and warned his pregnant lady... You did everything in your might to persuade him.

That was why it hurt you even more that when he came to the Twins and told you all to stand in a big semi circle ordered by your ages - you stood almost at the farthest end, having only just flowered - and he walked over to your aunts and older cousins, all past the ages of five and twenty. Everything within you itched to call out to him - King of the North, 'tis I who saved you!

But Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, was a man known for his honor and duty. He gave each woman a polite nod, exchanged pleasantries and, with a hint of discomfort in his eyes, moved along the line. You watched him as he went from your eldest aunt, Lady Amarei, a stout woman with greying hair and a face that had lost the battle with age long ago; to your cousin Alyx, then onto Waldene and Wylda - all older than you by several years and already mothers to their own broods, though you supposed it was pleasing for him to see their fertility.

The air in the Great Hall was thick with expectation as the Young Wolf made his way down the line of eligible Frey women. The flickering light from the hundreds of candles gave an ethereal glow to the scene, casting dancing shadows along stone walls adorned with the ancient heraldry of House Frey. The wheels of your father's great wooden chair creaked as he shifted his weight, watching his potential son-in-law examine his flock.

As Robb Stark drew closer to you, your heart pounded in your chest. Despite your best efforts to maintain decorum, your hands were clammy against the lush fabric of your dress. When he finally stood before you, his azure eyes met yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. His face was unreadable; he made no comments about your youth or offered any compliments as he had done for some of your relatives.

He nodded once before moving on to your younger sister - a girl who barely even knew how to keep her hair out of her soup bowl - and then carried on down the line. You could feel the disappointment welling up and looked up in amazement when he went back up to his previous spot. He... knew what would happen should he not accept any one of them? What was he doing?

Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, turned back to look you in the eyes. His gaze caught yours in a strange dance, akin to two foxes circling one another before withdrawing. He thanked your father, Lord Walder, for his hospitality and the introduction to his lovely daughters and nieces. His voice echoed along the stone hall, each word punctuated by silence from the gathered Freys.

"Before I proceed," he announced, raising an eyebrow as if he had just been struck by a sudden thought, "I would like to ask a question about a small rainbow trout." The hall fell silent.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The 'rainbow trout'. The code you had used so many times in your letters to him. You had used it as a symbol of danger, warning him of impending peril. And now he was using it back at you.

The question Robb asked was incredibly mundane in its nature for anyone else. Yet behind those words, there lay a hidden realm of understanding known only to Robb and yourself; its context spread across a plethora of secret letters exchanged between you two under various pseudonyms over the years. The audience stared at him blankly while your mind raced to pick up the hidden message in his query.

Just then, your innocent little sister nudged you and whispered in your ear right below a breath. "Has King Robb gone coo-coo?" You could hardly suppress the laughter that bubbled within you at her naive words. She didn’t understand what was passing between Robb and yourself and for that, you were both relieved and eternally grateful.

"No dear one," you whispered back, patting her small hand. " he's simply curious about our streams."

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd as they tried to comprehend the Young Wolf’s peculiar question. Lord Walder, from his high seat, let out a puff of irritation. "Is this a jest, Stark?" he asked gruffly.

The Young Wolf looked at him, his eyes hardening. "Not at all," he replied sternly. "In fact, it is rather important."

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor and felt your heart flutter with anticipation. Robb turned his gaze back to you, the hardness softening once more into a look filled with intent and secret understanding.

"Your rainbow trout seems quite interesting." The Young Wolf finally spoke in his clear voice, echoing through the hall, carrying a message for you alone amongst the throng of confused onlookers. His words were enigmatic and carried an underlying layer of significance that no one but you could decipher.

The corners of your lips curled into an involuntary smile as you met his gaze and nodded subtly. You understood what he was trying to say, what he had so bravely alluded to in front of all your family members.

"And what would such a trout want?" asked Lord Walder impatiently. His sharp gaze pierced through Robb Stark who merely smirked and shrugged lightly.

"That’s for the trout to know," replied the Young Wolf cryptically. Before anyone could question further, he bowed courteously towards Lord Walder and then swept an arm towards you in an elegant gesture. "Perhaps your young lady there can provide me an answer?"

"Walderette?", your father croaked out and raised an eyebrow.

A big rumble went through the hall and you blushed up to your roots, not used to being stared at. This was pressure and you needed to handle it quickly and well - so well that your old, disgusting flea of a father would forget about this instance.

"Yes, Father?" You responded, managing to keep your voice steady, despite the thudding of your heart. Your eyes slipped towards Robb who looked at you encouragingly.

Your father huffed, "You'll entertain The Young Wolf's humor about our trout?"

"Of course, Father," you replied softly, your gaze locked with Robb's. An understanding passed between you two, an assurance that somehow he would make things right.

You then cleared your throat and addressed the hall in a voice far more confident than you felt. "Rainbow trout," you began, glancing at Robb who nodded subtly as if urging you to go on. "Is a delicacy in our rivers. It’s versatile and can thrive in different environments. It can be elusive yet it can be caught if one is patient and diligent."

The room was quiet as everyone watched you curiously. Your father squinted his eyes at you while your younger sister nervously bobbed up and down on her feet. He didn't dare suspect anything, or else your fate would be just the same - being slit open by your family.

"It is very good when smoked and lasts long, and it is easy to transport. It goes well with pickles-"

Lord Walder raised his hand and shrugged. "Yes, Wald... Walderette your name was, right? Rainbow trout is good." He looked at Robb, who gave him a relatively neutral look. "And you are sure you want... her? I have girls with prettier faces, bigger tits and that talk less nonesense."

Robb didn’t flinch under Lord Walder’s crude remarks. Instead, his gaze seemed only to harden, a touch of steel flashing in his eyes as he coolly met the old lord's gaze. "Aye," he said, holding your gaze again with a softness that contrasted sharply with the icy tone he had used for Walder.

"I'm sure." His blue eyes glittered with certainty and warmth. Your heart fluttered, nearly missing a beat at his declaration. To have him, Robb Stark, The Young Wolf, choose you in front of everyone felt as surreal as it was exciting.

Lord Walder grumbled something incoherent under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his high seat. His gaze oscillated between you and Robb before finally settling on the young king with a grudging acceptance. He sighed heavily and grunted out a curt, “Very well.”

A murmur rippled through the hall, turning into excited whispers that echoed around the stone walls. This was unprecedented; a Frey girl chosen to be betrothed to the King in the North!

Your sisters looked at you with wide eyes, surprise and envy coloring their expressions. You could almost feel their piercing stares burrowing into your back, but you didn’t care. Robb had chosen you. And even though this was part of a grand scheme that remained secret from most, an indescribable joy surged within you at being chosen by him.

Robb then leaned slightly towards you, his voice barely audible above the hushed chatter. "I hope I picked the right trout," he murmured to you, a glint of worry in his eyes.

"There is only the one, my King," you reassured him with a small smile and breathed out once everyone went back to their seats - even the women, which gave you the greatest hope of there not being a massacre tonight. "Though if I find out anything that will hurt you or your... uh, friend, I will give you a signal and lots of likeminded trouts will help."

Robb nodded, his gaze fixed on yours. His eyes were the color of a stormy sky - deep, chilling, and deadly if challenged. Without breaking the eye contact, he whispered back, "I am looking forward to seeing what a school of like-minded trouts can do, thoug I hope I shall never feel the need to see them."

A hush fell over the room as Lord Walder straightened in his chair and clapped his hands together sharply. "Enough of these fish conversations," he barked, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It's time to sit down for the feast. You're to be wed! My grandson shall be a King!"

As the guests began to shuffle towards their seats, you took Robb's arm and led him to the high table alongside Lord Walder and his newest wife. The woman, who was no more than a year older than you, was beautiful in a fragile kind of way. Her honey-coloured hair was bound up intricately with tiny pearls gleaming in between her locks. She shot you an encouraging smile as you both took your seats.

Throughout the feast that ensued, she would lean towards you from time to time, whispering coded words in your ear between bites of her meal or sips of her wine. "Remember," she once whispered casually as she spread some butter on her bread, "the pickles are of a dangerously spicy sort."

"Just the pickles?" You asked just as casually, keeping your gaze focused on your own plate.

She nodded subtly in response before turning her attention back to her own meal.

The night wore on with laughter and merriment filling the air beneath the vaulted ceilings of the hall. Everyone seemed at ease - even Robb appeared more relaxed now. However, underneath the surface, you were still fully ready to run. Your father was everything, but a honest man and nothing could fully guarantee your safety.

As the feast came to a close, Lord Walder rose to his feet with all the grace of a prowling cat despite his advanced years. "May I have your attention!" he bellowed, effectively silencing the chatter throughout the hall. He nodded his approval at the sudden quiet before turning his steely gaze towards you and Robb.

"It seems to me," he began, his voice carrying an uncanny edge that made the hair on your neck stand up. "That we're forgetting one important detail of this evening."

His gaze intensified as he continued, "These two lovebirds are yet to be wed!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. You felt Robb stiffen beside you, but your father's newest wife pressed a reassuring hand on your arm. It was, after all, part of their ploy.

A frail old septon shuffled forward from among the crowd. The wrinkles on his face gathered into deep crevices as he smiled warmly at you and Robb. He held out a red silken ribbon - your symbol of unity in this farce of a marriage.

You found yourself whispering vows under his quiet instruction, your voice choked by anticipation and fear while Robb's steady and firm words only added another layer to your pounding heart.

"And now," Walder announced gleefully once you'd both spoken your vows. "Seal it with a kiss."

Robb hesitated for a moment before leaning in, his warm lips brushing against yours in a chaste but lingering kiss. The hall erupted in cheers, and for a fleeting moment, it felt real - like true love had finally found your side, yet you knew that this'd be a farce. But then again, what would a loveless marriage be against dozens of dead innocents?

"Take the lovers away! Undress them!", croaked Walder and grinned implishly as a mass of Frey girls came and picked Robb up. Silencing his prostest with the smallest of nods, you, in turn let yourself be carried by some Stark men.

The crowd of Stark men was like a sea of shadows, each figure blurred into the next by the dim candlelight. The soft murmur of their voices was punctuated by the occasional chuckle or whisper as they carried you away through a labyrinth of stone corridors. The cold, rough-hewn stones beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth and merriment of the feasting hall. The ancient walls echoed with tales of grandeur and battle, each echo ringing in your ears as an ominous forewarning.

With each step, you felt your heart drumming wildly in your chest - this was unchartered territory, a dance with danger and uncertainty. You stole a glance at the jumbled mass of Frey girls disappearing with Robb into another corridor, his eyes locked onto yours for an infinitesimal second before he was swallowed by the throng.

You were ushered up a winding staircase, its spiralling steps leading you to a chamber high above the ground. The door creaked open to reveal a room bathed in soft moonlight. It wasn't chained and barred like the dungeons you'd feared, but rather adorned with silken tapestries depicting intricate hunting scenes.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you entered. The room felt strangely comforting with its high vaulted ceiling and large canopy bed draped in furs. A lone window overlooked rolling meadows bathed in silver moonlight, their serene beauty belying the uncertainty that lay ahead.

The Stark men began to undress you, their roughened hands deft yet respectful on your garments. Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage and only stopped once Robb came into the room, dressed only in a sheet that was held up by your giggling sisters. He quickly excused his men and gave the girls the same, stern look.

"Good night, little fish!", "Have fun!" and "Make sure that you'll make a king tonight!" were their parting words as the filed out, giggling.

The heavy door shut behind them with a reverberating thud that echoed in the silence of the chamber. The echo faded, leaving only your heartbeat to fill the quiet space. You turned to face Robb, his striking blue eyes filled with an uncertainty that mirrored your own. The bronze-toned light of the hearth danced across his features and played in his hair, casting him somewhat divine in your sight.

His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy sigh that seemed to shake the very air around you both. The silence hung between you two like a tangible veil as he slowly approached you.

"We needn't…" he began, his voice gravelly and low – softer than you'd ever heard it. Suddenly, all of his kingly stature seemed to melt away, leaving behind only a boy burdened by expectations.

"I know," you quickly cut in, eager to relieve him of his discomfort. "I could just…" You trailed off, suddenly aware of the crude absurdity of your plan. But you pressed on, forcing out the words as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "... just scratch myself open…"

Robb's gaze flickered downward before snapping back up to meet yours, a horrified look crossing his face.

"I mean... people just want some proof… or else... or else there will be talk... we could pretend…” You stumbled over your words, unable to keep eye contact with him anymore.

A moment passed where only the crackling flames dared break the silence. Then Robb let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly before he met your gaze again.

"You remind me why I chose you for this alliance," he said with a warmth in his voice that took you by surprise, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. "You're willing to hurt yourself just to protect our farce, and the people we're sworn to protect."

His thumb swept across your cheekbone, drawing a shiver from you. There was honesty in his eyes - a rarity in this world of duplicity and deceit - and it was startling.

"You don't need to do that," Robb continued, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile. "We'll find another way. A better way." He let his hand drop, but the warmth lingered on your skin, spreading like wildfire through your body.

"Robb…" You began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No need for formalities," he said with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "We're married now, remember?"

He was attempting light-hearted banter – an attempt to alleviate the tension hanging thick between you two, and it was surprisingly endearing. Still though, unease crept back into your heart. After all, what other way could there be?

"But they will expect…" You started again.

"We'll be careful," he interrupted once more. "And we'll be smart. Let them think what they will."

A knock resounded at the door then – a single, harsh rap that echoed in the chamber and made both of you jump.

"Shall I pour the wine?" A thin voice floated in through the heavy oak door, belonging to an old servant woman probably sent by Lord Walder himself to see their progress.

"Yes," Robb called back after sharing an understanding glance with you.

The Lady came in and hobbled her way towards a small table, filling two cups with a cheap red wine, one that smelled more like a tincture than a lovely Dornish Red. To add to that, she set down a small dish of pickles. "If you do not manage to do your duties tonight, your Lady sends this dish to bring you back to your senses.

You began to panic slightly and nodded at her, doing your best to mime an innocent. Walking over to the small table, you dismissed her and quickly gave Robb his glass. As soon as the Lady went away again, you stripped and gulped down the beastly drink, positioning yourself on the bed like a bitch in heat.

Robb, for his part, wore a look of sheer surprise as he followed your unceremonious actions with wide eyes. He took a deep breath, setting his own glass down on the table beside him before he turned back to you. His cheeks were flushed a delicate pink - a stark contrast to his usual pale complexion - and he looked almost boyish under the soft candlelight.

"Please," he started, his voice rough in the quiet of the room, "You don't need to do this. Not like this." His gaze was steady and honest as it met yours, and his words tugged at your heartstrings.

But your mind was filled with vivid images of Lady Catelyn's tear-stained face and Rob's pregnant girlfriend - their lives hanging by the thinnest of threads because of you. You swallowed hard, pushing away the comforting warmth of his words. "We can't risk it Robb," you insisted. Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his mop of auburn hair. But he made no move to stop you from lying back against the bed – your back cold against the rough fabric beneath you. He looked at you then – really looked at you – taking in your determined expression and your trembling hands.

For a moment, all was silent in the room - save for the crackling flames.

Then, without another word, he began to disrobe himself with an air of solemnity that felt too heavy for the occasion. He moved carefully, meticulously even, stopping momentarily to kick away his modesty sheet before he joined you on the bed.

"Lie on your back, Walderette. I needn't take you like an animal," he whispered solemnly as he made sure to keep his eyes on your face.

His voice was low and gentle, a tender lullaby whispered in the quiet of the night. It was an unexpected sweetness that only made your heart hurt with more force, your guilt gnawing away at you like a starved beast. But you nodded, complying with his request and shifting position, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

A silence descended upon the room as he settled down beside you, his broad form dwarfing yours. His muscled arms propped him up as he leaned over you, his gaze never wavering from your face. You closed your eyes, your breath hitching as you felt the cool touch of his hands against the bare skin of your sides.

He stayed silent as his hands began to wander, their slow and deliberate movements adding an excruciating tension to the silence. He explored without hurry; his fingers ghosting over every rise and fall of your body as if committing it to memory.

You could feel the heat radiating off him – a feverish warmth that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Any other night, under any other circumstances, the feeling would've sent pleasing shivers down your spine.

"I…" you choked out, opening your eyes to find Robb hovering over you. His body pressed against yours in an almost comforting manner but it did nothing to dampen the guilt-ridden fear gnawing at your insides. "I… don't know what I'm doing," you admitted softly.

Robb's eyes darkened slightly at your confession but he gave you a small smile nonetheless. "It's alright," he whispered back reassuringly. "Neither do I, really. I've never... had to... take someone."

You blushed and gave him a shy smile. "I am not completely against it. Just... do whatever needs to be done and if we will not manage to create an heir, I am sure we will be able to do this... everything, under better circumtances."

“Are you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes met yours, the steady gaze filled with an equal measure of fear and determination.

"Yes," you answered just as softly, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew there was no other option. The lives of those you cared for were at stake. This was a small price to pay for their safety.

Robb nodded, his face a solemn mask. His eyes held yours, a lingering connection in the quiet room. He moved closer, laying his body against yours in a slow, deliberate manner. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the rapid beats of his heart echoing your own.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, and you complied without question. His lips found yours then, a tender kiss that tasted of wine and apprehension. His lips moved against yours gently, coaxing you into a rhythm that was as haunting as it was comforting.

His hands moved up your sides, skimming past the sensitive skin of your torso to rest at the sides of your face. He pulled back slightly from the kiss, his breath warm against your cheek as he began to whisper words meant only for you. They were soft promises of safety and care; sweet nothings that melted your worries away like morning fog under the sun's rays.

In spite of the circumstances, the tension in the room dissipated at his gentle ministrations. Your body relaxed under his touch, fear and uncertainty replaced with a sense of security.

Then he was moving again, inch by agonizing inch. The heat of him was all-encompassing now; a comforting weight pressing down on you with each passing moment. You let out a gasp when he finally pushed forward – a soft sound drowned out by the crackling fire and rustle of fabric.

It was not painful nor pleasurable - merely an odd discomfort that became more bearable as Robb began to move with slow rhythm, whispering soothing words into your ear. His hands never left your body – one rested on the small of your back, the other cradling your face. His thumb stroked your cheekbone in small circles, drawing out a soothing pattern that almost lulled you into a trance.

The room had become warmer, or maybe it was just the heat radiating from Robb — every inch of his bare skin touching yours, filling your senses with his presence. You clung to him, hands clenched on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he moved with quiet determination. You kept your eyes closed, taking in every sensation, every small sound he made as time stretched thin between each heartbeat.

He smelled of wood smoke and winter air. A hint of the strong drink you both had shared still lingered on his breath mixed with the warm scent of his skin. Each breath he drew was a low sigh against your ear, a soft symphony playing under the rustle of linen and crackle of fire.

His movements remained slow and deliberate — no rush, no urgency. He was careful with you, maintaining a rhythm that was mindful and tender. His touch was gentle but firm, holding you close yet giving you space to breathe. His lips found your forehead once more, pressing a soft kiss there.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly once again, pulling back slightly to look at you. His voice was barely audible over the slow rhythm of his body and your combined breaths.

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes held an intense mixture of concern and uncertainty, but also a strange form of peace, as if in this moment he had found some sense of purpose.

"I... am," you answered truthfully – Your body was tingling from the strange experience but there was no pain or discomfort anymore - only an odd sense of warmth... and maybe even something akin to contentment.

His gaze held yours, his expression softening at your words. A sigh of relief escaped him as he lowered his lips to meet yours again. His kiss was languid, unhurried, a complete contradiction to the rapid beating of your hearts.

He whispered your name between soft kisses and gentle touches, turning it into a sweet lullaby that danced with the crackling flames in the hearth.

Gradually, your world shrunk until it was made up of Robb alone—the rhythm of his breaths matching your own, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and his whispered words filling the silence. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly; seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours as you lost yourself in him.

When he finally pulled back after depositing his hot spend in you, it was slow and deliberate. You felt a pang of loss as the warmth of his body disappeared only to be replaced by the cool air of the room. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer before he moved them away too. He didn’t look at you as he rolled onto his side, putting some distance between you two.

It was understandable, you thought to yourself. His true love was outside, in th tents, worrying about her lover, the father of her babe.

For a long while, there was only silence in the room. You could still hear the faint sounds of Robb's steady breathing and feel his warmth beside you, but there was a sense of melancholy in the air that you couldn’t ignore.

The embers from the fire were slowly dying out and you knew that dawn was approaching; still, neither of you made any attempt to speak or move.

Eventually, Robb broke the silence, "I'm sorry..." His voice was barely audible over the dying embers. He turned towards you again, worry etched on his face, quickly wrapping the towel around himself.

"I don't know why I did that... I shouldn't have..."

His words hung in the air, heavy with regret. You turned your gaze to him, seeing the anguish painted across his face. The light from the dying fire cast a soft glow on his features, emphasizing the shadows of guilt etched deep within his eyes.

"It's okay..." you whispered, laying a hand gently on his arm. "It was necessary."

But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. You were both trapped in a situation neither of you wanted to be in. Each decision made out of obligation, not desire. It was a cruel reality, one that seemed determined to tear you both apart.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for any sign of resentment or pain. When he found none, he let out a sigh, heavy with relief.

"I wish things were different," he said after a long silence, his voice barely audible over the crackling embers. "I wish we could choose our own paths."

You chewed your lower lip, contemplating his words. You knew what he meant. Your lives were dictated by forces beyond your control-- duty, responsibility and a looming war that threatened everything you held dear.

"We can't change what's already happened," you said quietly, meeting his gaze. "All we can do is move forward and make the best of what we have."

He nodded at your words although his expression remained pained. He reached out to take your hand into his own larger one and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, getting up and handing you your dress.

"No, thank you, my King," you said with a small smile. "Let us leave this horrid place."

#asas fics #robb stark #robb stark angst #robb stark smut #robb stark fanfiction #fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

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Hey if you don't mind could you please do a robb stark x reader? Idk how but maybe they survive the Red Wedding and she feels anxious about everything and leading robb to express his trauma and then it's just them comforting each other

- thank you <3

Whatever May Come

Request: Hey if you don't mind could you please do a robb stark x reader? Idk how but maybe they survive the Red Wedding and she feels anxious about everything and leading robb to express his trauma and then it's just them comforting each other

Hi! I’m so sorry it took so long to get to this, thank you for being patient. Thank you for the request, this is my first time writing for Robb. To make sense of the story a little bit, the reader is a Tyrell. Her sister is Margaery and her grandmother is Olenna. Also, I’m referencing the Vale in this fic, please pretend that it’s close to Riverrun.

Also, I wrote out Talisa for this request, obviously. She’s replaced by the reader, but the reader isn’t pregnant. She and Robb get hurt, but escape. The rest of the events still unfold as seen in the show, but Robb survives and escapes before the end. Also, I know Arya was there when everything happened, but I’m not writing her in either so I can just focus on the request.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, death, blood and gore, weapons, guilt and trauma, slight mentions and allusions to sex, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had grown up in Highgarden, with your sister Margaery. On Robb’s sixteenth nameday, he was informed of your Father’s and his father’s plans to eventually wed you both. You had met a few times before, when your Father would bring you along to the feasts at Winterfell.

The North did not have many allies. They were an independent nation, content to govern themselves. But just as the Tully’s swore fealty to the Starks, resulting in Catelyn’s betrothal to Ned, the Tyrells did the same.

As the second born daughter, and third child overall to the Tyrell family, your position was not as highly valued as your siblings. Loras was a knight, revered around the realm for his charm and skill in combat. Margaery was cunning and beautiful, sure to make for a lucky match with any deserving Lord of the realm. They were both destined for greatness.

You, however, didn’t have a fate as secure. Sure, your dowry was sizable, and your family valued. But you had no real promise for climbing the ladder. You’d eventually be the wife of a respectable Lord, and Mother to his children. It wasn’t a fate you wanted, but you endured it all the same.

Robb would be Lord of Winterfell one day, and Warden of the North. Your Father had a soft spot for you, and wanted you to be happy, and marry well. Luckily, Ned had a respect for your House, and approved of you enough to court you with his son. He requested that you come to stay with his family, so he could see whether or not you were the right fit for marrying into his family.

You were sent from your home to Winterfell, arriving on Robb’s name day.

You were scared, dreading the life ahead of you that you had been sold into. You hadn’t seen Robb in years, unable to make it to an annual feast since the two of you were mere children.

But Robb was the perfect gentleman, instantly easing your fears the moment he greeted you at the gate with his father, a kind smile on his face.

You instantly clicked, becoming best friends. Neither of your families ever confirmed it, but you both knew that one day, you’d be promised to each other forever. It was like a dream come true. You couldn’t have asked for better.

It turned into a nightmare the day Winterfell received word that Ned had been arrested on charges of treason, and would be sentenced to death. In just a few days, Lords from all over the realm sworn to House Stark flocked to support their new King, effectively bringing everyone into an all out war.

Robb refused to let you come with him, wanting you and his mother safe and out of harm’s way. You and Catelyn had other plans, eventually leaving Winterfell and joining Robb in the fight.

In the midst of a war, as the proclaimed King in the North, Robb was responsible for the planning and executing of battle strategies. He knew his enemies were strong, relentless, and viewed as invincible by the common people.

If he could take Casterly Rock, it would prove to the people that Tywin Lannister was not as strong as he seemed, and that the North had a good chance of winning the war. In order to take Casterly Rock, Robb would have to march his army through the Twins, a piece of land owned by Walder Frey.

In the chaos of battle after battle and the constant moving of camps, you and Robb had nearly forgotten your family’s plans of marrying you to each other.

That is until Lord Frey asked Robb to marry one of his daughters, in exchange for passage through his land and the use of his men.

You told Robb to agree to it. If it came down to choosing you, or choosing his men, you wanted him to choose his men. If it meant that he would win the war with the least amount of casualties on your side, it was the only option he had, at least in your mind. You loved Robb, that was clear to anyone who took more than a second to watch the pair of you together. But you’d settle for being a mistress, or go so far as to give him up entirely, if it meant keeping him alive. He had to win.

Even if he had to do it without you.

As infuriating as it could be at times, Robb was an honorable man. He would not marry a woman if his heart belonged to another, and he refused to give you up.

You had told him it was a stupid idea. But no amount of trying to convince him would change his mind once it was set. He was one of the most stubborn men you had ever met, and you knew it wasn’t worth wasting more breath arguing over. You were married in a small ceremony, after Robb decided he couldn’t wait any longer to be with you.

Every day, he woke up and risked his life for a cause much bigger than himself. He told you that he couldn’t go on, knowing that he wasn’t savoring everything he held dear to him. He wouldn’t take you for granted for another day, not when each day could be his last.

Even his mother agreed, finally approving the match and allowing you to marry.

Afterwards, there was still the matter of Walder Frey, and Robb’s promise to him.

As a compromise, Lord Frey agreed to marry Robb’s uncle, Edmure, to one of his daughters, in exchange for passage through his land. Robb kept his promise, and convinced his uncle to marry one of the daughters.

You attended a celebration, in honor of Edmure and his betrothed.

Lord Frey allowed you into his home, extending his hospitality to you and the Northmen. Robb gave his apologies to Lord Frey, his daughters, and his granddaughters. You gave your apologies for your part in it as well. It was dismissed as water under the bridge, and the festivities continued.

That night, while the men made camp outside, a small group of you attended the wedding.

You stood beside Robb during the ceremony, watching as Lord Frey led his daughter down the aisle, where Edmure anxiously waited at the end. When the bride reached the end of the aisle, her father removed her veil, revealing his daughter to the room.

You let out a quiet gasp, and Robb turned to you, whispering in your ear.

“What is it?”

“She’s beautiful,” you said, keeping your eyes on her. “You may have missed an opportunity here, I regret to admit.”

Robb fought a smile, returning his gaze to the betrothed. “Don’t be daft. You’re the most beautiful woman in this room, and you know it.”

You felt the heat creep up to your cheeks, ever so slightly shaking your head.

“Hush. Pay attention.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yes, My Queen. As you command.”

—

After the ceremony, the festivities were moved into the banquet hall. Men lined the banisters overhead, playing tunes for the guests. People laughed, danced, and chattered while the servants came around with ale. A group in the middle had taken to dancing, or for a more accurate phrase, stumbling around drunk.

Robb laughed as he watched them, making you smile. The war had kept his smile from him for so long, it had been ages since you'd seen it or heard him laugh.

Somewhere throughout the night, Lord Edmure and his new bride had been whisked away for the bedding ceremony, a sight that you rolled your eyes at.

“It’s tradition,” Robb said, grabbing your hand in his.

“A barbaric tradition. As if it isn’t already a humiliating enough experience for a girl to be with a man for the first time. Now she’ll have half of the party in there, drunk and watching.”

Robb smiled softly at you as you spoke, squeezing your hand. “I couldn’t say no, darling. Lord Frey is already quite cross with me, we have to give him his little joys. My Uncle and Lady Frey were smiling, it isn’t as if I’ve forced them to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you said, smiling back. “It doesn’t make it any less of a stupid tradition. I pity her.”

“Oh, what would you know? You didn’t have to do it,” he teased, grinning.

“And you were all the luckier for it. I wouldn’t have been as nice as I was, which if I recall correctly, you seemed to very much enjoy. You’d have left our chambers taking a few drunk Lords to the Maester and returned to a locked door. I do hope he knows how to properly heal broken noses.”

Robb let out a chuckle at your words, warming your heart at the sound of it. “Lucky I forbade it then, aren’t I? Saved a few people from a bloody evening.”

“And yourself from a rather unfortunate one, as well. I’d count us both lucky, Your Grace,” you teased back, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

The night continued on, the festivities still lively. Across the hall, Lady Catelyn was sitting with her uncle and Lord Bolton. A servant came over to fill their cups, when Lord Bolton abstained.

You raised a brow, listening in on his words as best you could.

“I never drink, My Lady. It dulls the senses.”

“That’s the point,” the Blackfish said, standing to find a bathroom.

You watched the path he took to walk out, stilling in your chair when you noticed that the hall doors had been shut just as he left. It was a wedding and a feast, people should have been able to come and go as they pleased. Why would the doors be shut? Lady Catelyn seemed to notice as well, standing up as a few stray men in armor entered the room.

The men on the balcony played a solemn tune, one you recognized to be The Rains of Castamere.

You were not an idiot. You had heard that song before, you knew its origins. Your Grandmother, the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, raised you and your sister well. She taught you to pay attention to every detail, and to never walk into a room without knowing every crevice of it. You had learned from the best. And you knew something was wrong.

Lady Catelyn knew it, too.

You turned to your husband, grabbing his arm. “Robb–”

“Your Grace,” Lord Frey interrupted, standing up and silencing the room.

Robb stood up, walking to stand in front of Lord Frey’s table at the front of the room. You slowly and quietly backed your chair away from the table while everyone took their seats, giving yourself room to stand quickly. You tried to ignore the pit in your stomach, but it wouldn’t let you ignore it. Trusting your instincts, you slowly reached for your boot, where you kept a dagger inconspicuously strapped to it.

That was another thing your Grandmother taught you. To always be prepared, to be one step ahead, and to always be the one to surprise.

“I feel I’ve been remiss, in my duties,” Lord Frey said, eyes on Robb. “I’ve given you meat and wine and music…but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift.”

“Robb!” Catelyn suddenly called out, slapping Lord Bolton across the face, who bolted across the room the second he could get free.

Robb turned just in time to see one of Walder Frey’s soldiers, coming at you with a dagger. Just as you felt a hand grab your shoulder and a sharp blade graze your throat, you dislodged the dagger from your boot, spinning around and plunging it into your attacker’s throat.

Robb moved to rush to you, but one of the men on the balcony shot an arrow at him, sticking him in the shoulder. He let out a groan, stumbling back. Across the room, his mother had been shot as well.

“No!” You screamed, diving to the floor as arrows began to fly, massacring the Northmen inside.

Robb had been struck with another arrow, sending him tumbling to the ground. You grasped for him, hooking your arms under his and straining to pull him as close to you as you could. Shielded partially by the table, you held your blade’s hilt between your teeth, checking Robb’s wounds. He was bleeding, but luckily was still conscious, just in shock.

“Y/N,” he murmured, dazed.

“Quiet,” you whispered, hushed. “I’m getting us out of here.”

Screams echoed throughout the hall, and you shielded Robb as men scrambled to get free. Chaos erupted around you, all while Walder Frey sat at his table, his goblet raised.

You scanned around the room, looking for your best way out. You pulled Robb up, snapping the ends of the arrows off. If you pulled them out, he could bleed out. It was easier this way, and he’d make it long enough to be treated. He groaned in pain, tears brimming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you said, cradling his face. “You have to help me. You have to stand up. We just have to get to that corridor, it’s unmanned. Walder’s son was guarding it earlier, he isn’t there anymore. Robb, please. I can’t do this without you.”

“Mother,” he whispered, leaning up. “Where is she?”

You looked around, spotting her under a table. She had pulled an arrow from her back, and was reaching for the blade of a dead man on the floor. Suddenly, she was grasped by her hair and pulled out from under the table.

“No–”

You covered Robb’s mouth with your hand, willing him to be quiet. “If they see us, we’ll both die. I can’t let you die, I won’t.”

He struggled in your grip, and you bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. You shifted him off your lap, gripping your blade tight. “I’ll help her, alright? Please stay here. Please.”

Before he could protest, you began crawling out from under the table. You eased your way as out of sight as you could, following where Catelyn had been dragged. She was doing her best to fight off her captor, and was successful, if only for a moment.

Soldier’s came to the man’s aid, holding her still as they brought her in front of Lord Frey’s table.

“What shall we do with her, sire?”

Lord Frey pondered it a moment, smirking. Lady Catelyn fought with her life, scratching and kicking her captors, drawing blood. They groaned and faltered as she screamed, clawing to get free.

Finally, Lord Frey pointed to her, before calling over more of his men. “Kill the bitch.”

You watched in horror as her hair was grabbed by a man from behind, her head tilted back. In the end, it took five men to hold her still, hardly able to contain her. A blade was passed to the closest man, and her throat was slit. She crumpled to the floor in a pool of her own blood, her eyes still open and staring right through you.

You scrambled to get back to Robb, who had pushed himself up to his knees. Tears were freely falling down his face, and he let out a sound of anguish as you slid to his side, pulling him into you.

“Don’t look,” you said, holding him tight. “Don’t look. Listen to me, Robb. We have to get out of here. We have to keep fighting, alright? Are you hearing me?”

He nodded into your shoulder, pulling his head up. Your heart ached as you saw the look on his face, nothing but pure agony. He willed himself to be strong, to be strong for you. He shelved his emotions, his face growing cold as he looked around. Roose Bolton had reentered the room, presumably looking for the two of you. Robb turned his attention back to you, grabbing your hand.

“I’m hearing you. Where do we go?”

You pointed to the corridor in the corner of the room, still left unmanned. “We have to go that way. It will lead deeper into the castle, but away from the camps outside. He will have sent most of his men outside to kill our armies.”

Robb seethed, his eyes filled with rage and sorrow. You shook your head, squeezing his hand.

“Robb, listen to me. We will avenge them. All of them. And we will get revenge for your Mother. The North will always remember, and they will never forgive. We’ll gather our armies. We’ll fight, and we’ll win. We have been betrayed, but we have not lost. We will win, I promise you that…but only if we get out of here. It will mean nothing, and they will have died for nothing, if we don’t get out of here.”

Robb hurriedly nodded, placing your dagger back in your boot. He reached for a dead man’s sword, passing it to you. He unsheathed his own sword, crawling out from beneath the table. He reached for your hand, quickly pulling you up.

“You know how to use it, and you must. Hold on to my coat. Stay behind me, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

You nodded, holding onto him. You gripped the sword tight in your free hand, the other clutched tightly to Robb’s coat. You wildly looked around, waiting for an opening. The second one cleared, you yelled for him to go, quickly following after him.

Robb cut down every man in your path that night.

Every soldier that got within a few feet of you both, he cut down without hesitation. You clung to him, stabbing and slicing whatever came near you. Together, you made it out of the hall and into the corridor, where you took the lead.

You led the pair of you out the back of the castle, while the front was in battle. Together, you fled into the night, trying your hardest not to listen to the sound of your men’s screams.

—

That night, you fled on foot. Robb was injured, and couldn’t travel fast. Luckily, a few bands of men had escaped the Frey’s attack, and found you on the road with a few horses. You rode through the night all the way to the Vale, where you arrived in the early morning.

Robb’s Aunt, the Lady Arryn, allowed you and your men into her home, as you seeked asylum.

You trusted her well enough. After all, she was Catelyn’s sister. While you were not particularly close with either woman, a familiar name brought you comfort. Stark, Arryn, Tully, it was all name to a house you and Robb would be welcome home in.

Robb was seen by the Maester, who bandaged him up as best he could. He told you to keep Robb off his feet as best you could for the next few days. It was best to lie low anyways. Although the Eyrie was loyal to the North, and would protect the man named King in the North, there was still the possibility of spies and betrayal.

Just as you got Robb into bed in your chambers, a raven arrived from Riverrun. You promised him you’d be back shortly, and went into the throne room to hear Lady Arryn deliver the message.

The Blackfish, Catelyn’s uncle, had escaped the Twins and returned to his home to prepare his army for a potential battle with the Lannister army. He would hold his fort, and await for further instruction. Edmure Tully had been captured. Roose Bolton had betrayed the North. Tywin Lannister offered to name him Warden of the North, only if he was successful in assassinating you and Robb. Your deaths and the death of your army would end the war, allowing the Lannister’s to pull their army back to King’s Landing.

Although the attempts on your life were unsuccessful, others weren’t. Nearly three quarters of the combined army who had followed you to the Twins were slaughtered there. The rest narrowly escaped with their lives, and assumedly were fleeing back home. It was confirmed that Lady Catelyn, Robb’s mother, had been murdered. Greywind, Robb’s direwolf, had been slain as well.

When you returned to your chambers, the hour still early, Robb had sat up in bed, groaning in pain. You sat down next to him, gently laying your hand on his arm, With tears in your eyes, you informed him of the betrayal, and the confirmed deaths on your side.

“The Blackfish sent word. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey betrayed us, paid off by the Lannisters. Over half the Northern army is dead, the rest captured or seen fleeing. Greywind was put down…and your mother.”

His face crumbled, and he broke down into tears. He slumped into your lap, desperately clutching at the fabric of your dress. He gripped you tight, sobs muffled into your stomach. You fought your own tears, wrapping Robb tight in your arms.

He cried himself to sleep, nearly making himself sick.

—

The next morning, Robb didn’t speak of the night before.

In the following days, he didn’t utter a word about it to you, only speaking of it to the Lord’s who still supported the North. Ravens came back and forth to the Eyrie, and only a seldom number of houses knew you and Robb had seeked shelter in the Vale.

Robb spent much of his time distracting himself, in the training yard with his young cousin Robyn, or out on horseback. Lords came and went, speaking of battle plans.

You didn’t know much about them. You weren’t there to hear them, and Robb wouldn’t tell you when you asked.

Unlike Robb, you could hardly leave your chambers.

You were not a weak person. You weren’t raised to be easily frightened or overwhelmed. You had been taught better than that, your Grandmother made sure of it. But when you awoke the morning after you arrived at the Vale, and your husband was able to get up and leave your chambers, you were simply frozen in bed. Petrified and paranoid, afraid that anyone who made it past the guards had come to collect for the price on your head.

It tormented you for days. Slowly, you were able to leave your chambers, but you couldn’t go far. Robb kept to himself, finding it hard to even look at you. He did his duties, and returned to your chambers every night, but he wasn’t really there.

One evening, Lady Arryn called everyone to dinner, in memory of her sister. The thought of leaving your chambers made you sick, but you didn’t have it in your heart to say no to either Robb or Lady Arryn. You were obliged to attend, and you and Robb got ready in silence. You still wore black, as a sign of mourning.

Across the room, Robb finally called for you. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you in days. But he finally did, standing in front of the mirror.

“Y/N?” He asked, turning to you. “Could you help me?”

You stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed, moving to stand beside him. “What is it?”

He slowly handed you an embroidered black ribbon, the edges frayed. You furrowed a brow, looking up at him. His face was solemn.

“It was my mothers,” he said, and your face softened. “I want to wear it tonight, but I don’t know where to put it. My Aunt said she used to tie it in her hair.”

His voice caught at the end of his sentence, and you rested your hand on his shoulder, easing him.

“As pretty as you would look with a ribbon in your hair,” you grinned, making Robb crack a small smile. “I expect we can think of something more practical. How about we cuff your sleeves? We can tie it around your wrist. Hmm?”

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He held out his hand for you to take, and you gently rolled his sleeve before securing the ribbon around his wrist. You pulled a ribbon from your own hair, tying it around his other wrist.

“There. Are we ready?”

He nodded, holding his arm out for you to take. “We are. Thank you, love.”

He guided the pair of you to dinner, a pit settled in both your stomachs. A cloud of sadness hung over both your heads, casting its shadow over the rest of your evening. During the meal, Lady Arryn told stories of her childhood with her sister, with tears in her eyes. You laughed together, remembering Catelyn. Robb told a few stories of his own.

“You’ll remember this, darling, you had already come to stay with us,” he said, turning to look at you. “It was the day we found the direwolves. One for each of us. Mother griped and griped at Father when we returned with them, a pup under each arm. It took us days to get her to accept them. She called them beasts, always tripping with them underfoot while they followed us around. I think the first time she accepted them was when Y/N and I were out in the courtyard. Mother was on the balcony, watching us play with Rickon.”

Robb smiled as he spoke, reaching for your hand. “Rickon was running after Y/N, and he accidentally stepped on the back of her dress. The end of it ripped, and they both fell. Nobody was hurt, they were laughing by the time they hit the ground. But Greywind bounded over, sniffing around. Making sure they were alright.”

Robb paused, looking at his lap, taking a minute to pull himself together.

You squeezed his hand, running your thumb over the back of his knuckles. “I’ll finish the story, love.”

“No, no,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m alright. I can do it. Anyway, I rushed over, making sure they were alright. Y/N was being dramatic, making a big fuss over her dress being ripped. She was trying to make Rickon laugh, he looked a little bewildered and guilty. The whole time, Greywind was standing over us all while we were sitting in the dirt. A guard came over, and he bent down to help Rickon and Y/N up. But Greywind, still only a small little thing, darted in front of them. All teeth and snarls, blocking the guard from getting to them. I doubt at that age he could have done much damage, but he sure was ready to try his best.”

Everyone chuckled, taking sips of their drinks around the table. You smiled at the memory, squeezing Robb’s hand again. He continued.

“I had to call Greywind off. Just like that, he was back at our sides, all content. As if he wasn’t ready to chew off that guard’s hand. He was so protective of us all, from the beginning. And he minded well. We got everyone up and headed to get cleaned up, and Mother whistled from the balcony. We all looked up, and she was grinning. ‘Bring me my son,’ she said. ‘And get that dog a bone.’ And she went inside. That was it.”

A tear streamed down Robb’s face, and he quickly wiped it away. “I’m really going to miss them.”

Lady Arryn nodded, wiping her own tears. “Me too, my boy. Me too.”

—

That evening after dinner, you guided Robb quietly back to your chambers. He didn’t say a word on the way back, only stopping to open the door for you. You both undressed, getting ready for bed. You had your back to him, only turning around once you had finished. When you finally turned around, your heart broke at the sight of him.

Robb stood in front of the mirror with his shirt off, pulling at the scars the two arrows left on his torso.

It was the first time Robb had left his shirt off long enough for you to see them in a while. The day he stopped needing you to help him dress, he kept them covered and out of your sight. But here he was, right before you. Vulnerable, and sad.

You slowly walked over to him, laying your hand on his shoulder blade. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and his face crumbled once again. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, resting your cheek in the middle of his back. He clutched at your arms, his head hung low.

He turned around in your arms, bringing you into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, pulling back to see his face. “Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“There is!” He said, angrily wiping at his tears. “I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect any of them!”

“It is not your fault,” you reassured, gripping his arms.

“It is! You’re cowering around the castle, barely able to leave our chambers. I can barely look at you without being eaten alive with guilt. I should have seen it coming. But I was selfish, and I let my men pay the price for it. And Greywind…my Mother…”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. He held you tightly, hiding his face in your neck. You could feel his tears land on your skin, and you felt a twinge in your heart.

“My sweet boy,” you said, moving to cradle his face in your palms. “You will not blame yourself. I won’t hear any more of it! It isn’t your fault, no more than it is mine. There was no way to see this coming. We did what we had to do, Robb. We couldn’t save them. But we could avenge them. And the only way to do that was ensuring we made it out alive. I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more.”

You gently ran your fingers along the scars on his torso, feeling him tense under your touch. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

“I won’t lie to you, Robb. I was scared. I’m still scared. But hear me, and hear me well. It is not, and it will never be your fault. There is nothing you could have done. Nothing. But we will avenge them all, I promise you that. They didn’t die for nothing.”

Robb covered his eyes with the heels of his hands, nearly gasping for breath as he cried. He clutched at his chest, his voice raw. “It hurts. Make it stop, please.”

He looked small like this. Just a boy, thrust into the nasty grip of war. It was tearing him apart. You gently walked him back until you reached the foot of the bed, easing him down onto it. He sat, and you stood between his legs, cradling his face.

“I know, my love. I know.”

—

After a while, the air had calmed. You were now in bed, laying facing each other. Robb was running a finger up and down your arm, keeping his eyes low.

His voice was quiet. “I miss them. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them.”

You nodded, settling into his chest. “That’s alright. I think you’ll always miss them. But it will get easier…it has to. They’ll always be with you.”

Your voice shook as you spoke. He protectively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss into your hair, holding you tight. It was quiet another moment, before he spoke again, whispering to you.

“You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, but he didn’t feel assured. You didn’t, either.

“I mean it. You never have to worry about your safety with me. I’ll protect you with my life if I have to. And I plan on living a long and happy life, with you by my side. You’re stuck with me, alright? My girl. My Queen.”

You let out a breathy laugh, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You closed your eyes to keep them from falling, pressing yourself further into Robb’s side.

“I believe you, my love. My King. We’ll be alright. I believe that, too.”

—

A/N - Hi! This one got a little long, sorry. I hope it was what you were looking for, and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!”

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #robb stark x reader #robb stark #robb stark imagine #robb stark x tyrell #robb stark x tyrell!reader #the red wedding #hotd #house of the dragon #house stark #requests open

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | part 1.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: in this part none but this is game of thrones so… specific parts will get specific warnings though

Pairing: robb stark x reader

Word Count: 5k

(Series Masterlist)

“Lady Stark, your son is—”

A very young Robb Stark ran into the bed chamber before the maid could finish her sentence.

“Mother—” Robb stopped as he watched you and Catelyn Stark scramble to hide what you were doing.

“(Y/N)?”

Catelyn Stark grabbed a young five year old Robb. “You must swear to not tell anyone what you saw, Robb. On (Y/N)’s life it is important you never say a word.”

That was the day Robb Stark learned (Y/N) Snow was not a Snow, not his father’s second bastard child along with his brother Jon. That the honorable Ned Stark didn’t sleep with the two whores at a brothel one night when they had one a major battle and ended up getting them both pregnant like he said he did— one of the women having darker skin than they were used to seeing in Westeros.

That was the day Robb learned the two bastards didn’t share the same name day, you were born several months— almost an entire year before Jon. You weren’t even a Northerner. You were a Targaryen. The last surviving Targaryen, only living daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and a woman that no one knew if she was still alive. Rhaegar knew his fate was sealed when the rebellion of Robert Baratheon started over Lyanna Stark. He could do nothing for Elia and his other children but he went back for you. You were hidden away in the Tower of Joy where Rhaegar was keeping Lyanna Stark.

At his dying sister’s command, Ned didn’t harm the child but took her with him. A raven was sent to Rhaegar’s last known relative, Maester Aemon at the Wall. The Wall was no place for a child. Castle Black couldn’t take care of a baby. So it was agreed between him, his wife, and Master Aemon that since a babe was not responsible for the acts of her father— Rhaegar never even earned a chance to rule the Seven Kingdoms, you would be raised as Ned’s second bastard.

No one could understand how Catelyn had love for one bastard but couldn’t bring herself to love Jon. Winterfell assumed it was because until Sansa, you were the only girl. The only problem the Starks ever had was the blonde hair, undeniably Targaryen. It was fine when you were a toddler, but as you reached true childhood questions would be asked. Maester Luwin scoured the books of Winterfell, any knowledge he had from the Citadel to find a solution. The strong dyes for their cloths, the only thing that could stain the Targaryen hair and keep it stained for good.

“What are you doing to her hair?” Robb asked. He watched as your blonde hair turned into the famous Stark black color.

Septa Mordane smiled at your finished needlepoint. You were dismissed leaving a happy Sansa and very annoyed Aria to continue their work. You walked through the courtyard of Winterfell until you found the Stark boys. Robb gave you a smile as you approached. The two of you were practically twins, two sides of the same coin. The only person Robb could never beat was Jon— you and Robb might have shared your secret but you and Jon had the bond of bastard children. Especially with how Catelyn treated him, Jon needed someone growing up that was always on his side whether he was right or not. You sat on top of a barrel, letting little Rickon sit on your lap, as you watched Bran practice archery. Jon and Robb laughed when Bran missed; you tried to hide your snickering behind Rickon.

“Go on, Bran. Father’s watching,” Jon encouraged. “And your mother.”

This time you didn’t laugh when Bran missed, you could see how he was becoming increasingly frustrated. Robb and Jon made no attempts to hide their amusement. You reached over Jon to hit Robb for laughing— an indignant look crossed his face as he realized you didn’t scold Jon for laughing.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” Ned shouted down to his children from where he and Catelyn were watching up above. “Try once more Bran.”

“Loosen up your bow arm,” Robb offered up the advice.

You cheered when an arrow zipped past you and landed on the bullseye until you noticed Bran’s arrow was still notched in his bow. You looked behind him to see Arya. She smiled in surprise that she had actually made it. You laughed as Bran threw down his bow angrily and started to chase Arya. The mood of the courtyard was cheerful until a messenger ran in.

“Lord Stark! They’ve caught the deserter.”

You scooped up Rickon. The rest of the boys would go with Ned; but, an execution was no place for a six year old. You released Rickon to his mother and went to saddle your horse. Ned walked over to you with a raised brow.

“I’m going with you and the boys, and don’t say I can’t because I’m a woman or lie that I’m too young. I’m almost Robb’s age, almost an adult. Jon just turned my age and you let him go. Even Bran is going and he is ten, Papa.”

Ned smiled— a glint in his eyes. You only called him Papa when you wanted something, usually opting for Father or Lord Stark. You pulled your shoulders back to try and appear larger. The defiance of a Targaryen was plain as day to him. Ned grabbed your saddle from your arms and strapped it around the horse without another word. With excitement, you raced out of the stables to where the boys were— Bran on a pony instead of a large horse like the rest of you.

The deserter was brought out to a field far away from the castle grounds of Winterfell. You all hopped off of your horses. The deserter began spewing what you could only describe as nonsense as he talked of white walkers and dead things coming back to life. While you heard Jon tell Bran not to look away because Ned was watching, you quickly realized an execution was not a place for you despite wanting to prove your place in Winterfell.

The large, almost too large, sword in Ned’s hand started its downward path. You tucked your face into the boy closest to you, Theon. He gently rubbed your back at your sharp intake of breath and patted you twice when it was over. You made a point not to gasp as you saw the head separated from his body. It was over. There was nothing more for you all in the field and it was time to head back.

“What is that?”

The others squinted at what you were pointing to so far away from them. You always had the keenest eyes and could spot something from a mile away. The object in the road you had been pointing to was a dead stag upon closer inspection. Everyone got off their horses, following Ned’s lead because he wanted to see what had killed the creature. It didn’t take too long. Theon called everyone over to a large and very dead direwolf. There was part of the stag’s antler and it was apparent both creatures ended up not surviving their encounter with each other.

Barking drew everyone’s attention and Theon held up a pup. Without much thought, you held out your arms. Theon obliged and dropped the pup into your arms. The older men were debating what to do— wanting to end the pups now. Give them a mercy kill instead of them dying from the cold and starvation. You looked at Robb and Jon with large, sad eyes as you bounced the pup in your arms. Jon looked at the wolf pup in your arms and then at the others he could see.

“Lord Stark,” he spoke up. “There seem to be five wolves. You have five children, trueborn.”

Jon quickly added the last part after seeing Bran and Robb’s faces. They didn’t like when you and Jon separated yourselves from the rest of them. You thought it was pointless, especially with the way you looked. At least Jon closer resembled them— and actually was Ned’s son.

“A direwolf is not a pet,” one of the men said.

Ned and the other men thought about Jon’s words more and debated. You brought them all to your attention as you yelped when the direwolf bit your hand. You assured them that you were okay and they laughed a bit at Theon’s comment about the irony of a direwolf not taking to a Stark.

“It’s because I’m a Snow. I think this one wants you instead.”

You dropped the direwolf in Robb’s arms where it seemed to calm down greatly. Ned conceded that the wolf pups could come back with you all. The pups were scooped up, a smaller sixth one found underneath the others and given to Jon. He tried to hand you the pup but you shook your head.

“Are you sure? I don’t hav—”

“It’s fine Jon. The direwolf is yours.”

Ned smiled as he watched the two of you and patted your shoulder. His hand guiding you through the forest. You broke from his grasp and before the others could open their mouths, your skirts were in your hands as you ran a little bit. With a grin you turned back to face them. The men gasped in a sort of disbelief. There was another pup in your arms, jet black that it blended with the shadows of the forest floor.

“Mine.”

That was the only word you muttered not that there were any protests. The other Stark children were overjoyed when you returned with the direwolves. Each claimed one for their own, each wolf with a unique name.

“What will you name yours?” Sansa asked as Lady sat at her feet.

“I don’t know. How about you name her?”

If her smile could grow larger, it would. Sansa felt special whenever you asked for her advice. It made her feel good that her older sister needed her. Sansa thought deeply about a name that would fit both you and your direwolf. She decided on Godswood after the place that you were most often found in Winterfell.

“Godswood, let’s go.”

The pup, already quickly growing, followed behind you. The king was coming and everyone was getting ready. You were going to give Godswood a bath so she was presentable. This was your least favorite day as you stood next to Jon and Theon in the line behind the trueborn Starks. Every time you were near Robert Baratheon, you were worried that something would give you away. Nothing should have set him or anyone else off but it still made you nervous. Robb moved to stand as much in front of you as he could without it looking like he was hiding you on purpose. Catelyn nodded proudly at her eldest son.

It was better when the formalities had ended. A large feast was the perfect time to let loose without any qualms. A drunk Robert wouldn’t look twice your way. The Starks sat at the high table at the end of the hall with Robert and Cersei watching the party in front of them.

You weren’t at the same table as your siblings, being a bastard, but you were seated fairly close. Despite the separation, you weren’t lonely at all— switching between laughing with the family at your table and exchanging faces with your siblings. The music picked up and you and Theon were the first up. The whole of Winterfell cheered as the two of you wildly spun around the room and, before you knew it, everyone was up on their feet.

“That child is loved by all of the North,” King Robert said as he watched Robb tap Theon on the shoulder to switch places. “Have you found her a suitor?”

“She’s a Snow,” Ned started. “It isn’t exactly easy.”

Robert thought. “We should strengthen our houses nonetheless. Sansa and Joffrey, Arya and Tommen, Bran and Myrcella. (Y/N) should have a place too.”

“Her place is in Winterfell.”

“Robb and Rickon have Winterfell. Is she to be in her brothers’ keep forever? She’s a Stark to you in everything but name… there’s our answer.”

Ned, Catelyn, and Cersei’s eyes wandered to where Robert had stared. In place of Robb was Jaime Lannister, his hand momentarily leaving your waist as he spun you under his arm. The two women almost choked on their drink.

“Absolutely not. You want her to be with the Kingslayer?” Ned asked.

“Is she not young, Robert?” Cersei asked, Catelyn nodding frantically in response.

“You were younger than her when betrothed to me. Your brother hasn’t taken up a wife, he’s too married to his title to care about the title of another. A Snow is a Snow but that one is a Stark and it’ll do him good to be attached to one. Besides, now the Lannisters have a tie here as well under your own banner. Be grateful.”

There was no point arguing more. Robert was now annoyed with Cersei that anything Ned and Catelyn said would not make a difference. Instead the couple shared worried looks before returning back to the scene in front of them. You were smiling largely as Jaime attempted to keep up with the fast pace dancing of the North.

“I think you’re doing a wonderful job, Sir Jaime.”

“I think you flatter me Lady Snow.”

You thanked him for the dance and left to find the one Stark you hadn’t seen the whole night. The night was cold and the slight wind bit at your face as you searched for Jon. Your Uncle Benjen rode off on his horse as you rounded the corner. You could hear the voices of Jon and Tyrion as you got closer. For once, Jon didn’t look happy to see you.

“Lady Stark thinks it inappropriate for one bastard to attend but has no problem letting another.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead choosing to sit on the fence next to where Tyrion had been standing. Jon was angry and he needed to vent. Even against you, you were always on his side. Tyrion eyed you, noting your choice to let Jon be upset. You didn’t appear sad one bit and he found himself wanting to defend. The two of them continued to talk and you continued to sit quietly.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. None of it matters when I take the Black.”

You jumped up from your spot on the fence to approach him.

“You’re doing what? You can’t. You and I are children of Winterfell forever. I won’t let you leave me, I command that you don’t.”

Jon looked at you with sad eyes. He pulled you in for a hug, a quick kiss pressed to your hairline. He had made up his mind and nothing you could say would change it. You tried not to seem angry as you left Jon’s arms. Even in the morning, you were still upset as you and Godswood took a walk around the grounds.

“He’s an idiot, Godswood. A death wish. That’s all Jon has been after since we were seven, I swear. Summer?”

Bran’s direwolf ran up to you, barking madly. You and Godswood followed at Summer’s heels. Your screams echoed as you saw Bran lying there in the dirt, not moving. You scooped him up and ran into the castle shouting for Ned or Maester Luwin or anyone that was close enough to listen. It took them hours to pull you from Bran’s side even after Maester Luwin assured you that he would live. It wasn’t until you were reminded that you had to pack for your own journey with the other girls to King’s Landing that you left Bran’s room.

“Father?” You greeted Ned who had knocked on your door.

He entered with a small chest. Locking the door behind him, Ned set down the chest on the bed and unlocked it. He pulled back the layer of fabric and furs to reveal two large round stones. Carefully picking one up, Ned placed it in your hands.

“Lyanna said this was left for you and for… that you would know what to do when the time came.”

“What are they?”

“Fossils of dragon’s eggs. Your father left them for you.”

You stroked the stony egg and placed it back in the trunk before locking it. Giving Ned a hug, you whispered a thank you. It was hard for him to say anything about Rhaegar— you assumed it was because of what he did to Lyanna. In a last minute decision, when Ned had left the room, you took the egg fossils from the trunk and placed the fur they were wrapped in inside of your saddle bag.

Morning came and you spent it eating breakfast in Robb’s room— Catelyn would have had a fit if she knew you all had taken to eating in Robb’s room. Of course Sansa was eating in the hall, like a proper person. And Arya was nowhere to be found but neither was Jon so it was easily assumed they were together. So it was just you, Robb, Theon, and little Rickon eating the dry, plain, and hot breakfast of the North.

“I can’t believe you’re going with them,” Theon commented.

You shrugged.

“Father won’t tell me why. I suppose they want to make me a lady in waiting, Sansa will be married to Joffrey after all. It would do her well to have me with her.”

Robb made a gruff of disapproval. “I don’t like you or Sansa anywhere near that prince.”

Theon nodded in agreement. You all finished breakfast and left to where the traveling party had gathered outside. Reluctantly, Rickon allowed you to set him down on the ground. Theon hugged you tightly and let go with a nod of his head. Robb removed his large fur cloak and wrapped it around you.

“If you find King’s Landing too warm, send a raven. I’ll personally ride down and come get you myself, just say the word. I promise I’ll be there.”

Robb let go of you after you nodded in promise you would write to him. Years ago, after seeing the two of you as close as two people could possibly be, Ned considered telling the truth. Not that you were a Targaryen but that you weren’t his. Even Catelyn agreed, the two of them considered revealing you had no relation in order to promise you to Robb. He couldn’t remember what had caused them to delay and decide not to say anything but now he regretted it. Because you would be in Winterfell with a boy that knew your secret and could protect you instead of headed to King’s Landing to be with a man that was responsible for the death of more than one of your family members.

Instead of taking the carriage with Cersei, her children, Sansa, and Arya, you rode outside with the others. Robb lifted you onto your horse. Ned watched his eldest son squeeze your hand before letting go and stepping back. The ride felt too short as you already approached the fork in the road— one path to King’s Landing, the other to the Wall and Castle Black.

It was too soon to say goodbye to Uncle Benjen and Jon but you found that you had to. Quick goodbyes were given to Tyrion and Benjen while Ned talked to Jon. Even though it was best to stick to the schedule, none of the party dared to interrupt you and Jon’s moment.

“You aren’t allowed to die out there,” you said causing Jon to huff out a laugh.

“I will try not to.”

“I’m serious. The only thing allowed to kill you is time. I’ll kill you myself if I’ve found out you died. You come back to me Jon Snow, okay?”

Jon nodded and grabbed your arm— the best he could do for a hug when you both were on top of horses. You brought your horses closer. Fishing into your saddle bag, you took out the small bundle of fur holding one of the egg fossils and placed it in Jon’s saddle bag.

“What is it?”

“I wrote you a letter… you must promise to burn it after you read it.”

“What is—”

“Promise me, Jon.”

“I promise.”

Jon lifted the fur a little to see the egg in his bag and the letter right under it. He looked at it in confusion and then up at you.

“Thank you for the rock?”

“I just felt like you should have it. Father gave me two of them, there are only two of them in the world. I don’t know, I just wanted you to have the other. It feels like it belongs to you.”

“And you have the other?”

You nodded and patted your own bag. “It’s our gift only we have, no one else.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t give it to Robb then.”

“Us bastards have to stick together.”

That earned laughter from Jon. “This isn’t farewell, just goodbye. I promise you will see me again. Goodbye, Lady Snow.”

“Goodbye, Lord Snow.”

You watched Jon and Benjen’s horses stalk down the path headed towards Castle Black— his direwolf, Ghost, keeping pace next to him. You led your horse back to the group. With a smile to the others inside the carriage, you moved forward in front of everyone else.

“Do you know where you’re going girl?” Robert called out.

“Is the path to the South not just this straight line, Your Majesty?”

Robert’s hearty laugh at your response sent the others into laughter. Four of the knights pushed in front of you to lead the way. You stared out at the lands of the North until a horse and its rider, Jaime Lannister, started to walk next to you.

He reached out a hand and you almost pulled back when his fingers seemed to get closer— the Kingslayer was well known to you. But instead of pulling back, you let him brush his fingers against your face— more in shock at the action to begin with. Robert watched in satisfaction at what seemed to be the start of a connection, Ned watched with a frown on his face.

“You’ve been crying. Is that why you’ve pulled so far ahead?”

“I was hoping no one would notice.”

“They wanted me to bring you back closer to the carriage where it’s safer Lady Snow… if you aren’t done crying I guess I could stay up here with you. Robert can’t protest much to your safety.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you Sir Jaime or wonder if that was an insult.”

“What are the tears for? Most are excited to escape the North.”

“The only family I know is up here.”

“You seem dull up here in the cold. I heard your mother was from Dorne, isn’t the South more your speed?”

“The cold keeps me aware. I get too comfortable in the heat.”

“What is wrong with comfort?”

“Nothing. I just find it’s not something I seem to be afforded at the moment.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to give me anything more?”

You stopped looking at Jaime and returned to looking at the North that you were slowly leaving behind. It was the same routine for days, much to Ned’s dismay. You would ride right behind the four knights, next to Jaime and then return to Ned and the other Starks when it was time to rest. The camp had approached the most prominent stop on the way to King’s Landing, the Crossroads Inn.

Everyone broke off to do their own thing. You watched Arya run off with the butcher’s boy whose name you were sure you heard that morning but couldn’t remember now— both of them carrying large wooden swords. Out of the corner of your eye, Joffrey took Sansa’s hand and the two of them started off. You scoffed at the sight.

“You could try to hide your disgust.”

Jaime laughed as you jumped from where you were sitting on a large rock. The egg fossil dropped from your hand and rolled to his feet. Godswood lifted his head from the piece of meat he had been chewing on, settling once again when he saw it was only the knight. Jaime handed you the egg back. You continued to rub the wet fabric back and forth over it, occasionally dipping the fabric in cups of water and vinegar.

“What is that?” Jaime asked.

“An egg fossil. A dragon’s egg, Father won it when he killed Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“A stone of a dragon’s egg…”

“It’s a shame, isn’t it? It’ll never be a dragon… Dragons in Westeros isn’t that a funny idea.”

Jaime laughed with you. He watched you dip the fabric in vinegar and go back to rubbing the egg.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Well, some of the dirt chipped off the other day and you can see a bout of color peeking out. I’m trying to clean it. Maybe I’ll put it on my dresser or save it for Sansa as her wedding present.”

“I thought you didn’t approve of Sansa and Joffrey.”

“I don’t particularly care for your nephew but he makes my sister happy. So, that makes me happy… Sir Jaime?”

“Lady Snow?”

“If I were to ask you to teach me to defend myself with a sword, would you agree or think it unbecoming of a woman?”

“I would first ask what reason a lady wants to learn?”

“Arya went off with the butcher’s boy to learn. She seems to enjoy it, I want to know if it really brings someone that much happiness.”

Jaime walked off and for a moment you thought he would just leave or even worse tell Ned. Not that you thought Ned would disapprove but he would worry. When it concerned you, Ned always worried. But Jaime came back with two swords in hand. You smiled and set down the egg by Godswood who watched it like his life depended on it. Jaime stood straight and extended his arm holding the sword, you mimicked.

“Happiness is from whatever you deem to give you such a feeling.”

“Is this what makes you happy? Being a knight?” You mimicked every one of his moves.

“It was until that dreaded nickname… what about you?”

“Me?”

“Is happiness also something you aren’t afforded at the moment?”

“I’ve never really thought about it before. Family makes me happy. Taking care of little Rickon, keeping Sansa level headed. Being the little Lady of Winterfell.”

“I’m surprised. Wouldn’t a bastard revel in the little expectations of them?”

“I like ruling, the responsibility. Besides, Robb would lose his head without me to keep it on.”

“And what about Lord Stark now?”

“He has his mother still… and Theon, not as good as me but good enough.”

Conversation died and turned into merely instructions as Jaime showed you the most basic way to fight with a sword.

“I’ve heard of your keen eyes. You know arrows would probably fare you better.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Jaime was about to say something else when Sana ran past him and into you.

“Careful, sister! You could’ve run into the blade… what’s wrong?”

Ned came over to where you were, ignoring the Lannister’s presence and focusing only on you and his daughter. With a nod from Ned, you guided Sansa back to the inn. Godswood following behind you, carrying the egg gently in his mouth. Arguing was all that filled your ears as you entered the inn. Arya was about to lunge at Joffrey, barely held back by Ned. You listened to the argument of what happened between Joffrey who had apparently been bit by Arya’s wolf. Joffrey turned to a flustered Sansa who in turn looked at you.

You rubbed her back in comfort, knowing she had to choose between her sister and her intended. After giving her answer, Sansa looked to you again. You nodded at her— her answer was the most neutral she could possibly make it. Arya, however, was not satisfied at all and once again had to be pulled from lunging at her sister.

“Where’s the wolf?” Cersei asked.

“Ran off.”

“A punishment must be in suit, there is another wolf here.”

Sansa gasped. “Lady didn’t do anything! It isn’t her fault.”

“The one behind your sister.”

It was your turn to gasp. Shaking your head, you tried to say something. It wasn’t fair. Joffrey got himself in the situation and Nymeria wasn’t even there anymore. Why did your wolf or Sansa’s have to die in its place? Your eyes flitted to Ned. Jaime stepped up.

“Her wolf has been with us all day.”

“You’ve been with Lady Snow all day?”

“Just keeping her company. Her wolf shouldn’t have to pay when it was nowhere near the crime in question.”

“A wolf must die to serve out the punishment of the crime in question,” Cersei said through gritted teeth. “Would you rather it be the one of a trueborn Stark or a Snow?”

“Enough!” Robert yelled. “This is madness. The young girl was there, the wolf at the scene gets punished. Snow, take your sisters and your wolf and go rest.”

You grabbed Arya and led a struggling Sansa out of the dining hall. Godswood stayed very close to your body as you bounded out of the hall. Sansa cried in your arms. She denied your offer to give her Godswood and you suddenly felt bad. You weren’t a Stark by any name. The direwolf was not yours to claim and you still chose to sacrifice her wolf over your own. Arya quietly sat next to the two of you, her own silent way of apologizing for what she viewed as her fault.

(Part 2)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #robb stark x reader

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