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claymoresword · 4 months

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Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder.

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm.

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage.

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries.

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

In truth, you were far from alright.

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that.

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl.

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest.

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable.

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you.

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.”

Your brother appears less than convinced, you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away.

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence.

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment.

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner.

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand.

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her.

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt.

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs.

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over.

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold.

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei.

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly.

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers.

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath.

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist.

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her.

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══��═══════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity.

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores.

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life.

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart.

You would have been happy.

In another life.

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room.

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time.

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her.

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire.

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days.

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you.

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch.

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress.

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug.

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly.

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond.

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance.

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her.

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave.

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other.

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her.

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process.

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words.

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen.

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

#cersei lannister smut #cersei x reader #g!p reader #cersei lannister #ned stark #stark reader #fem stark reader #ned stark x reader #catelyn stark #g!p

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howyouloveyourdragon · 11 months

Note

threesome with margaery and robb please please i BEG

Taking Charge

pairing: margaery tyrell x reader x robb stark alternate universe: Margaery allies with Stark instead of Lannister, Robb survives (no necrophilia here thank you babes) pronouns: she/her anatomy: afab warnings: power dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, brief discussion of trauma (the red wedding) kinks & positions: threesome, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, light bdsm, being gagged, oral (reader receiving), riding, masturbation, face riding, orgasm denial, fingering dividers by: saradika wordcount: 3,388

A/N: only the best for you ma'am, you told me i could go feral and i always deliver >:) i really hope you enjoy this bby! ♡ also margaery lowkey acts as a medieval marriage counsellor but we'll touch on that later ☠️

Margaery Tyrell is beautiful. You know it. Your husband knows it and the gaggle of raucous men know it as she flits her eyes over Robb. Her lips move but you are too entranced to doubt her words. You hear Robb gulp beside you and your own breath hitches as her shoulders roll back, a lithe hand exposes her neck by sweeping her hair behind her. She smirks as she curtsies--slow and deep. "Thank you, your grace for understanding my position." "Of course." Robb's voice utters but you can hear a familiar gruffness. He glances at two of his men as he gestures for two of them to lead her to a spare tent. You let a gentle hand rest on his forearm. "You need not," You tell the men, ignoring when your husband snaps his sights back to you. You smile pleasingly at Margaery. "We will find somewhere together, it has been a long time since I entertained guests." She returns your grin with the hint of surprise in her crystal eyes. The flicker across your form and her parted lips close. "Perhaps I should be entertaining you, my Queen." You feel as Robb tenses and squeeze gently. You merely hum to Margaery and begin to glide toward her but your husband snatches your arm quickly and tugs you back. His eyes stare deeply into yours as he guides a hand to cup your face, an intensity as he draws closer--prolonging each movement. He connects your lips effortlessly and drinks in the gentle gasp when his tongue treads along the seam of them. Your eyes flutter like the flap of a butterfly's wings until they shut closed. His fingers twist the hair at the back of your head and tugs just enough to let him drink in your soft whine. You don't have the chance to see as Robb's sights turn hard and warning as they lock with Margaery's. Her smirk only deepens.

Eventually you gather the inner strength to pull away with a wet smack and stumble back. As your eyelids slip open his darkening stare greets you, a quick tilt of his head permitting you to step away. His gaze stays locked on you as you leave, linking your arm with the new woman's. "He is rather protective of you." She notes as you walk throughout the camp. You hum in agreement and nod softly. "There was an incident a number of moons ago where he was supposed to marry one of the Frey daughters, we supplemented another man in his place but..." You pause, discomfort crossing your skin like a spider's thick web. Margaerys collects your free hand in the bed of her own hand and squeezes gently. It gives you the courage to continue. "The matter was not resolved. There was bloodshed and we lost a babe but we escaped and so..." Margaery steps in front of you, now holding both your hands. Your breath stutters but still you paint a sad smile across your lips. "I understand." She assures with a gentle smile. She wishes to reassure you. Two of her fingers rise to lift your chin to encourage you looking up into her eyes. "I would feel the same if I had a petal such as yourself. I would take my vows of protection over you just as carefully. And I would take those vows." Her voice purrs like a kitten curled in your lap, like it is a soft tail wrapping itself around your forearm instead of her hand.

The days pass with your forms close at every turn and under your husband’s watchful eye. Your nightly activities increase, a deeper need clawing up Robb’s chest. Tonight, you writhe in the sheets with Robb's pants fanning over your neck as his fingers bury deep within your core. He moans at the wet stickiness, letting it drip down his hand. You feel it growing–the wave about to crash–swirling deeper and deeper. It’s like a whirlpool that you are begging to let swallow you down. You want it, you need it and then–Then Robb retracts stops. “Say it,” His unusually gruff voice murmurs in your ear, ignoring your flailing legs. You try to grind back and forth but his spare hand pushes your hips down in warning. He leans up to your ear. “Say it.” He demands once more, rougher. “I love you.” You concede easily, gentle whimpers pouring out. His fingers roll fluidly again and the waves return. “Again.” “I love you.” The water spins you, an overwhelming heat distorts your sight. “Again.” “I love you.” And finally he lets the dam break inside you. Your heat gushes over his hand. His mouth drops down onto yours with a resounding kiss. His lips move sloppily but demandingly. He grumbles as he turns to lay his back on the bed and sling and arm around your own. “So good for me.” He rumbles. “My best girl, hm?” You mumble in approval while he moves to kiss your cheek before standing. Your whines return as he begins to leave you, presumably to visit the tent of your living quarters. Not for the first time you are grateful your husband is given special privileges but detest the sight of his back. He chuckles low. “A moment, my love.” He leaves, presumably to find a cloth and water. Your slick glistens down your rear.

Minutes pass, possibly twenty, possibly thirty but either way you are unsatisfied with your missing husband. You rise on shaky legs, bare all except a silk robe. Your feet lead you to the connecting tent, surprised at the closed sheets of it. Your breath hitches as you step toward the dark tent, your fingers about to part the sheets but two familiar voices interrupt the movement. “I heard you of course…” A Tyrell voice tuts and your eyes go wide. Surely she does not mean… “Denying your wife? I thought Starks were honourable.” A deep blush treads up your face with the wisps of wind. You shiver as the cold air creeps through your dress, hardening the pebbles beneath. You peek through the curtain and instantly clasp a hand over your mouth at the sight of your husband stiffened, the woman opposite trailing her fingers up his tunic. He snatches her wrist quickly and squeezes it harshly. You can hear her breath hitch. “What are you doing, Lady Tyrell?” Robb snarls to which she merely chuckles. She steps onto her tiptoes and leans into his ear. “I am going to teach you how to please your wife, how to please your Queen, how to…worship her.” She purrs the words like a playful kitten. His grip loosens enough for the highborn lady to grow bold and raise her other hand to his shoulder. He is silent as his eyes track her palm. It is almost soothing, the circles she rubs against the loose fabric. The wolf King clears his throat before he speaks. “How?” You would pity his vulnerable tone if it didn’t charge the throb of your pearl, if the pebbles of your breasts were not growing more sensitive with every word that flowed through your ears.

You almost gasp when you see her unravel two snakes of rope from beneath her skirt, letting it feed through her fingers as she pushes Robb down into a wooden chair though you are both aware it could not truly hold him unless he demanded his own body to still. Her hands glide down his arms, thick with muscle, her nails play with the top threads of his linen undershirt. The rose unlaces the ties of his shirt slowly, torturing. Your eyes hook their gaze to her fingers, mouth going dry at their graceful movements. She is a lot more experienced than she let on but it does not upset you...in fact it rather does the opposite, your pearl beginning to throb again. He watches her, eyes tracking her every motion. “Well first you are going to have to calm yourself. I would hate for her to join us too early, before we even have you prepared for her. You cannot see her face but you can imagine her serene smile. Her hands glide across his chest and push him down into a waiting chair. The bridge of rope between her hands follows down to slither between his legs. He grunts at the contact, his member still heavy from the activities before. He bites his lip. Margaery chuckles as she sinks to her knees and begins to bind his forearm to the wooden chair. “Do not worry, my King, we will fix that in a moment.” Your eyes widen and drink in the sight, watching as she binds his other arm as well. You gulp as she straddles his lap.

“Oh such a good boy…” Margaery coos, running her hand into the northerner’s hair and then gripping the curls tight. Having a King bound to a chair before you–inside a tent or not–is a rather quick way to encourage your confidence. For it to drip through your veins and pump the blood raucously. She smirks down at him as he groans. His eyes are as fierce as the wolf he is. “I almost feel guilty for playing with you but if you want to be a King, you will have to earn that right.” She licks her lips and dips a hand between her breasts. The King gasps, matching you simultaneously but then she pulls out a grey fabric and brings it to hover before his mouth. His eyes snap up to hers. “You must trust my practice, King Stark.” He growls but begrudgingly parts his lips enough to bare his wolfish teeth. Her giggling attracts your ears as she slides the gag in his mouth. She raises a single hand in the air and beckons you close. You freeze. “Come, my Queen.” Her free hand runs along his jaw then hardens it, pulling him closer with an intensity you didn’t expect. “He’s pretty isn’t he, dearest?” You merely nod, looking at your husband as the Tyrell tugs at him. Her eyes flit over to you as she smirks. “This is not the first time you have both played this game, is it?” Her grin deepens when your reluctant nod pleases her. Robb bites his lip, trying to hold back the moan. “I was wondering why you do not mind me playing with him but now I see…You enjoy it. Seeing someone else in power for once, taking him…” She slowly tilts her head. “Would you like to tame him? The big bad wolf? You will need to find your voice, pet.” A tentative step forward is all she needs to see to broaden her wicked grin. She slaps Robb’s cheek sharply and climbs off his lap. “There’s a smart girl.” Her hands reach you while her face squeals in girlish delight—a sight you are not used to.

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric. “Always so modest.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh. A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn commanding. “Oh such a good boy…”

“We are going to have so much fun.” She purrs and releases one of your hands to stroke her index along a lock of your hair. Her eyes darken with a sea of lust pushing desperately against a restraining barrier. She brushes back your hair and leans closer until her breath is fanning across your lips. “And so we have acquired another player.” The sea crashes—taking your kiss with it—as she presses her lips to yours and drowns in it. Margaery Tyrell is a woman of many talents and one of those talents is knowing exactly what she wants but more importantly how to get it. A gasp slips from your mouth to hers as her fingers trail up your thigh. She slowly lowers herself until she has to pan her head to look at you. Her eyes stay misty. “I’ve always wanted to taste a Queen.” With the flick of her tongue, she pushes you back to lie on the table and spreads your legs with ease, rustling the wretched grey fabric of your robe. “Always so modest, hm? Don’t worry, we’ll fix that.” She tuts as she dives her face beneath and skips her tongue along your inner thigh.

A rumble burns at your throat, your eyes squeeze as tight as your fists in anticipation. “So sweet,” Margaery commends before darting her muscle across your hidden pearl, wetting the fabric above. “Yes, I think I would like to join you on that throne of yours, we are going to have a lot of fun, sweet blossom.” Her hands turn demanding, her nails sinking into your thighs. A yelp rebounds from your lips in time with a distant growl. You sit upright on shaky elbows to let your heavy-lidded eyes gaze upon your needy husband, a dribble of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth, gag wet. Perhaps fabric is not a desired material. She rolls an ‘r’ along your bud, delighting in your sharp intake of breath. Robb rumbles once more. Margaery sighs. “You can either behave or wait even longer. I will bring your wife to her peak once more for every sound that comes from your lips but you will receive nothing until you have learned to prioritise your beloved.” Her voice is muffled but resounding. She commands him as well as she would command a disobedient mutt. Her tongue licks up your residue. “If you were my wife, I would drink from you every waking moment and if I were your King, I would keep my face tucked between your thighs. Escaping my lips would be your hardest battle.” Margaery moans. Robb growls at the rose’s words but the soothing strokes of her tongue please you.

She pulls back, smirking at the whines that drip from your mouth. “And so needy too.” She chuckles as she pulls away, her curls tickling up your thigh. You jump in sensitivity but it all makes her coo like caressing a flightless bird. “Aw, sweet darling. Need us to take care of you, huh? Is he not taking care of you? Poor thing…We’ll just have to take care of you, ourselves.” A deep growl permeates from your husband, his arms straining against his ties but as your eyes linger on his form, his cock looks aching as it strains through his trousers, the tip of it wetting the fabric. The poor man must be absolutely throbbing and yet that doesn’t make you pity him, it only entices you. Margaery raises a finger to rub pressured circles on your bud. She chuckles when you hiss and your elbows collapse you to lie back on the table again. The image of your husband’s hungry face lingers in your mind but it’s Margaery’s hair that you move to grasp between your fingers. Your hips grind as her tongue returns to lap at you. “That’s it,” You encourage, delighting in the wet noise.And then it comes again, the sensitivity crashing over your cunt. Your eyes shut tight and your face scrunches up as a long pitiful whine pushes past your lips. The whimper of the Stark King only sends another wave to flow onto Margaery’s tongue who doesn’t lessen her pace until she can swallow down every drop.

Your body falls imp, sprawled out. Your legs tremble as they hang off the side of the table but finally Margaery’s greed softens and she pulls back. Your glistening wetness still coats her lips as they grin up at you. Her hands slither up your body, starting at your thighs until they settle on your waist. She squeezes gently before spreading them. You hiss briefly but are quickly hushed when she kisses up your neck in soothing patterns. “I will not mark you yet.” She whispers in purring vibration. “But if you ever tire of wolves, I will be but a moment away.” She kisses the space behind your ear. A tempting little rose she is as she pulls away, cupping your hands as she tugs you to stand on your shaky legs. She tuts. “So used today, don’t worry, it’s your turn.” The scent of her hair wafts thickly up your nose, clouding your other senses as she pulls you, one arm now around your waist. When you finally look up from the floor, you see Robb’s piercing eyes waiting for you with the patience of a wild boar. She slowly winds your legs so you can straddle your husband who quickly nuzzles against your neck. Margaery delights as she wraps around you from behind, kissing up your opposing shoulder as her hands help yours to slip down Robb’s smallclothes. However, it is you who raises your fingers to tear open the offending fabric on your husband’s chest and who rips the gag away to replace it with your lips. He grunts and ruts his hips. His member throbs, the top purple and preening for attention. You can almost feel it begging. Margaery’s warm palms roll your hips, grinding you against it but you do not complain. His lips are wet with saliva and sweat but it doesn’t deter you, letting the salt flit across your tongue.

Margaery praises you as you gather the strength to slide onto his length, gasping out as it fills you for the first time in a week. He groans loudly, eyes already rolling back, it’s the final straw for him to snap off the ropes and capture your hips while you sink onto him. When you finally drop onto him, your arms hook around his neck. “Be good for me, that’s it,” You encourage as he whimpers like a pup. Margaery beams with pride as she brings her fingers to roll your nipples back and forth. “Tell her how much you want it.” Margaery prompts, voice growing gravelled. “That you want her, that you want to fill that sweet little pussy, hm?” Robb nods, and thrusts hard into you, a yelp streaming from your lips. “I want you.” He moans, hot breath panting as his grip tightens. “Want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Iw ould give up my crown and my line for you.” A high pitched noise escapes you as your hips rock faster back and forth. “Want to keep you full of me. You want that? You want me to keep you full?” Your nods are all he needs to finally let loose and spill, you tighten as Margaery flicks the pebbles of your breasts. You throw your head back but the rose of Highgarden is quick to rake one hand into your hair and tug you to face her. “That’s right, my queen. Release for us.” And you do, your womanhood spasming as a thick cream rings around your husband’s who sighs breathily and kisses up your neck. A line of wetness slides up as your companion chuckles low.

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rise-my-angel · 5 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

Scattered Memories of the Starks

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

Length: 18.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, life threanting child illnesses, references to masturbation, alcohol consumption, rigid/restrictive self imposed view of female sexual behavior, mention of character deaths, smut, explicit sexual descriptions

Notes: Just an interesting peek into four specific past events/time periods with the reader, from the various POV's of Jon, Ned, and Robb. Series Masterlist Here

Of all Robert's brothers, Eddard Stark would say he knew Stannis Baratheon the least in a personal sense. He had nothing against him, on the contrary. Robert gave no praise or a shred of thanks for it, but the middle Baratheon brother had spent the entire Rebellion with a tough resolve which few men could handle. For many, war was easy. They all knew how to fight, how to kill, but it took something else of a man to handle what he had.

It was a direct result of the only defeat their side of the rebellion ever had. The Battle of Ashford. Robert had moved his forces to the western border of the Stormlands to march on Ashford, right on the edge of the Reach and it was a risky move. Stannis had been ordered to hold Storm's End, but he warned his brother that taking his forces so far west so soon was a mistake. That he should instead march North and join Ned's own forces along with the knights of the Vale led by Jon Arryn. But he didn't listen, and Randyll Tarly defeated him.

The result however, was catastrophic yet necessary in a way that Robert never quite appreciated. His defeat meant that it left the Stormlands open to be invaded by Targaryean loyalists. Mace Tyrell commanded his men to besiege Storms End, thinking taking it would crush Robert's morale.

But what they could not crush, was the determination of Stannis Baratheon.

They surrounded the ancestral seat of House Baratheon for an entire year, and it would not end, even after Aerys Targaryean was dead. Stannis refused to yield like few would. Ned had mostly heard much of this from Renly, only a boy of six when it happened. A year they spent running out of things to resort to eating. Eventually they turned to getting creative, trying to find anyway to make something edible be it from anything before turning to the worst. Barley managing to feed his starving wife and little brother on the rare occasion Stannis could shoot whatever bird passed the beach from a bow.

Renly as Ned recalled, talked in great detail that Robert had insisted must be exaggerated, that as they would desperately be shooting seagulls down one at a time to keep from starving, while the Tyrell army of many tens of thousands, would feast in full view of the castle with the voluminous amount of food supplied by the Reach. By the time Ned had arrived with his forces, he had long since left the capitol on his own. The Mad King was dead, Kings Landing was under Roberts control, and Rhaegar Targaryean had been killed at the Trident as well.

Mace Tyrell gave no fight to the Northern army and submitted right away. It was a brutal way to spend the war, and yet Ned knew even if Robert wouldn't say it, that Stannis's ability to so determinedly hold Storms End was of vital importance to their side of the war. It tied down most of the Tyrell army for most of the war, which took such a large amount of strong numbers away from the remaining Targaryean loyalists. And he had only done so, with only five hundred men.

He knew bitter feelings were left towards him over it. But Ned knew why. He wasn't deaf to the stories boasted about the battles. What the victory on the Trident looked like, what the sack of Kings Landing was like, but there was no great battle in Storms End. But Ned more then any of them knew that if Stannis Baratheon had not held the castle the entire time, or given up at the last minute, Neds forces would have been overrun. Robert's and Jon Arryn's forces would have been overrun.

Perhaps he thought as well, if Robert had done his brother the fair thing and given him Storms End as was his right, maybe Ned wouldn't have sat there in his study that afternoon, shocked that the middle brother had even anything to say to him.

Robert had Stannis take his fleet to Dragonstone where Aery's second son, now remaining heir, Viserys, had been with his mother. Rhaella passed giving birth to a daughter and at word of their families defeat, a small few had smuggled the Targaryean children to Essos.

They had fled before Stannis was even given orders, but Robert was so enraged he blamed Stannis all the same. He gave Storms End to Renly, and gave the now unclaimed Dragonstone to Stannis. Ned would think, perhaps if he was given the seat he had all rights too, maybe he wouldn't look back on Ned lifting the siege in such a bitter light.

So, imagine Eddard Stark's surprise at a raven from the man, explaining that his only child did not have the proper resources available to them on Dragonstone, to give them the education Stannis wanted for them. He appreciated how blunt he was in his choice of words, that while he knows the two men were not anything close to well acquainted, he respects his abilities as a commander and a leader, and saw little other choice to send his firstborn heir to learn from.

Now, that wasn't unusual. Many highborns were sent to serve as wards to other noble Houses, Ned himself had spent half of his life being raised in The Eyire with Robert. Jon Arryn was to that day, a man who had always been as good as a father to him. What wasn't normal, was sending your daughters for that very same idea. Though, he wouldn't say he thought it was a bad one.

Stannis had only one child, a daughter of eight, and it seemed he was intending on giving her the education of any lord. Likely considering the implication as Maester Luwin had pointed out, it's possible he could be preparing for the case in which his wife may not be able to give him any other children. So he wanted his only child, girl or boy, to prepare to be his proper heir. Which was how they ended up going back and forth for a number of weeks going into detail as to what to expect.

If he were to think about it in retrospective, it might have struck Ned as amusing that his sons first reaction to the news was mostly indifference. Not that they didn't care, both of them did, but he imagined for the weeks leading up to that day, he knew they likely barley thought of it until the Starks begun preparing. He didn't blame them of course.

Robb and Jon both were ten, what else did boys of ten have to care about when they had as much energy as the two of them combined held. But then the day came that you arrived. A small girl even at eight years old, you stood notably shorter then his sons. And you were rather small and said very little other then your clearly practiced curtsy of greeting.

Only a number of household guard was with you, as one of them, a younger man by the name of Allard had explained in delicate manner that you might take a bit to feel comfortable. Explaining that it had been horrible coincidence that the day you were set to sail to White Harbour, was only a day away from the same night your mother, Selyse, had lost her second boy in the womb and you might be hesitant about being here after that so soon.

Ned recalled how you were deathly quiet, eyes wide and as overwhelmed as you were scared. Turning to Allard before he left as if wanting to ask him to stay. The young man had knelt down to your level, quietly telling you, “You're allowed to be scared, tiny doe. New places are always scary. First time I sailed east, my father and I almost got beheaded by a first sword of Bravvos. But now I have friends and ladies always begging for my return.” Rather then a scared look, Ned found it striking how much like your father and uncle your narrow eyed scowl became when the man added, “I'm fairly certain Northerners aren't quite as dramatic as that.”

You hadn't been there for long, when at one point when Ned's attention was needed elsewhere. He had you stay in the training yard while he went to fetch his wife to take over for him. He did however, remember turning to check on you once more time only to notice someone else instead.

And Ned had come close to a smirk right away, realizing what look a certain son of his, had on his face.

If Jon Snow had thought it would be an uneventful day, he had not a clue how wrong he was about to be. He and Robb both were aware Lord Stannis's daughter was set to arrive but they were kept busy in the training yard like usual. The brothers going back and forth between playful and competitive as Ser Rodrick would have to keep them on track sometimes when they forgot they were supposed to be having lessons, not play fighting.

His back to that part of the yard, not realizing when anyone had come through until he noticed Robb's attention getting diverted somewhere behind him. Lowering his sparring sword he nodded somewhat in that direction, “I think the Baratheon girl is here.”

Jon knew he likely was trying to distract him, so he only intended to look briefly just to see when he turned partially around. His grey eyes going from narrowed to wide and bright as he almost instantly looked again as soon as he tried to turn back to Robb. By one of the tables closer to the archery range, you stood mostly on your own next to Jory.

Hair long and dark, but he noticed your eyes right away. They were such a beautiful shade of green and they were so bright, but he could tell there was a lot of nervousness behind them. Your posture stood mostly curled in on itself, glancing around as your hands wrung together in front of you like a anxious tick. You were short and small, and despite your best efforts not to, you stood out in the yard. At least to Jon you did.

Wracking his brain trying to figure out if he could remember your name he had suddenly sensed something behind him. Barley turning with a duck in time as he glared at Robb, who looked at him incredulously. “Did you forget about not turning your back on your enemy, Snow?”

Moving quick, the two danced around the other for a few hits as Jon grunted out between swipes, “I'm not the one trying to distract his opponent, beacuse I can't hit him otherwise, Stark.”

Lucky for them, Ser Rodrick could see that the two of them were getting too distracted to focus properly. Sharing a glance with his nephew, Jory who was the one making sure you weren't left entirely alone, the two Cassel's clearly read the others intentions. “Alright you two, pack it up for the time being. Go act a couple of proper lads and greet the poor girl.”

Both of them moved quickly, Robb mostly seemed calm as usual but as Jon put his sword away he started to feel his heart race a little. Glancing back at you, still you had a nervous, lonely look in your eye but the boy too felt dizzy. As he and Robb crossed the yard, Jon felt like he wanted to throw up, he was going to have to live with you in his home for the next number of months. Which was making him nervous on his own.

Beacuse Jon was fairly sure, you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

You were quiet, and oh so polite. A very small shy smile and a proper curtsy, as you introduced yourself first. His brother had it easy, introducing himself right back as Jon stood beside him, suddenly wishing he were anywhere else. Hoping if he didn't say anything, he wouldn't have to ruin everything before it started. Thinking if he remained silent, you would assume he was no one important, but of course not.

You looked at him quiet for a moment before you glanced to nothing at the side, Jon not realizing he may have been coming off as rude instead of nervous. Robb nudged him in the side, causing the spell to break and Jon whipped his head to the side to glare at him. “She asked your name.”

But he realized why Robb wanted his attention, and he has grateful beyond belief for his brother. He knew exactly what he was about to be shy over. A silent ask whether or not he wanted Robb to just introduce him as his brother alone, but Jon knew you'd figure it out eventually. He may as well get it all over with now. Meeting your now curious eyes, muttering low, “Jon Snow.”

For a moment, he was confused. Beacuse you didn't react, or do anything or even shift your expression slightly. You just glanced between him and Robb before innocently asking, “Lord Stark's other son, or am I mistaken? My father said he has two.”

Nodding his head, he didn't get a chance to hear you say anything else. Both boys attention noticing Lady Catelyn coming that way, and truthfully, Jon didn't want to deal with that in front of the pretty girl he had just met. Looking awkwardly between you and Robb, Jon turned to make his leave just as he could hear her quietly introducing herself to you.

As Jon returned his focus elsewhere, he spared one last glance as you followed Lady Catelyn so she could show you around the castle. Only briefly did you catch his eye as you looked around again, and it was the first time Jon saw that soft little smile that you for years, only ever wore for him.

It didn't really clue in for him right in that moment, but in truth Jon had spent the rest of the day thinking about you. He didn't have the words of what a crush was right away, but as it turned out he had far too much time only hours later to begin considering it.

Proper meals were hit or miss for Jon. Some days it was fine, he and Robb paid mostly attention to the other and he didn't have to worry. Other days he would feel as if Lady Catelyn was eyeing everything he did or said to find something to call him out on. Were she to have it her way, Jon wouldn't even have a place at their table during normal meals, but his father wanted him there and Robb certainly would be the most vocal about arguing against it.

He couldn't help but wonder if having another person there would make it easier or harder. By the time both boys arrived though, Jon worried that maybe you changed your mind. You barley looked at him, and didn't speak to him but it wasn't until halfway into the meal did they all notice you were particularly quiet.

Barley having touched your food at all, your eye seemed trained on the wood of the table as if you couldn't keep your focus on anything more. Lady Catelyn had spent most of her time ignoring Jon and keeping an eye on how inward you acting. Gently having to call your name twice before you blinked, coming back to the world and looking up at her, then to the others. All of them watching with some degree of curious that had you looked away, swallowing hard with nerves.

Trying to quietly get you to speak up, she had asked you “Getting used to the food in a new place can be difficult at first. Is there something else we can find for you?”

Your head shot up, shaking fervently in a no with wide eyes. “Everything is lovely, my lady.” They all doubted that if to judge by the three bites in total you had taken, but biting your lip in thought before quietly looking between her and Lord Stark in a gentle tone, “I mean no offence, I am just not hungry though.” Once more your eyes flickered away before finding Lord Starks. “Would it be alright if I lay down for a little while?”

Speaking right away, Ned had no issues. “You've had a busy day, of course it's alright.” Turning to Robb, their father nodded in your direction, “Robb if you could show her to her room.”

Robb had begun standing up, and the chatter around the table was just enough that no one noticed until it was too late. No one noticed something was wrong until you had collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Every one of them that shot up from their own seats by then, a shock on their faces but it was his father who was the quickest to move. Catelyn and the boys watching from their spots now standing as he knelt down to look you over.

“Is she-”

As soon as Catelyn had tried to ask him something, Jon knew something was very wrong. His fathers eyes were wide, mouth more agape as if unable to choose between too many emotions and far more worry then he'd ever seen personally. Interrupting his wife with just as a rough but urgent tone. “Go get Maester Luwin.”

Catelyn tried asking again out of genuine concern, but he lost patience by the second as he checked on you, raising his voice. “I need him now, Cat.” Turning to his sons with just a short but urgent instructions, “Robb go with your mother, and bring him to the room we set up for her. Jon, come with me.”

No one had any room left for questions, his father easily picking you up and holding you close as they went their separate ways. Each time he glanced at you, Jon could see you looked worse and worse by the second and that panic in him built up quickly.

Helping his father with laying you down on the bed carefully, his father ran a hand over your forehead again, the sweat accumulating as if he had sat you next to a bonfire. “Open the windows.” Even with the cold breeze of night flying in, both stood there realizing it didn't seem to do a thing.

His voice very quiet asking what was it, and his fathers answer didn't make him feel better. A low tone that was more concerned then he'd ever heard before. Shaking his head somewhat confused still as he did so, “She's burning up by the minute. Go get me water and a cloth, now.”

Everyone was quiet as Luwin looked you over. His own face twisting into a worry as the rest of them could only stand there and wait. Jon and Robb both looked at the other, neither boy liking how helpless they felt. His father had come to your side as well to help Luwin with something and the two gave the other a significant glance.

By the time anyone spoke properly, Luwin turned to both Stark parents with a morose look on his face that worried all. “I would only be able to guess she has had this fever for days without telling anyone. An illness rarely gets to be this bad in only a manner of hours.”

You had yet to wake up. Ned standing still close to your bedside with a narrowed expression asking, “How bad do you mean?”

If they initially thought keeping it between them was a better option, Luwin decided against it. A sorrow in his tone as he looked almost apologetic as he muttered quietly. “I would suggest preparing a raven to send to Lord Stannis.” Glancing back at you then Ned, “One that can be sent out at a moment's notice.”

The dread in that room was something else, this had gone to something so serious it was deadly so suddenly. Lady Catelyn was quiet but a weight in her tone that was trying to hold a lot back. “What can we do?”

Luwin looked over you again, still not even a hint of waking up as he laid a back back on your forehead to feel the same heat. “At this stage there isn't much we can do but wait and hope she wakes up.” Her repeating the word hope with a concern, Luwin nodded grimly. “Whatever illness she's caught, it is advanced passed preventing something worse. Right now we can only watch to see if she makes it through the night, and the next few if lucky.”

The boys both looked at each other once more, neither doing a good job at hiding their fear as they knew on the others face already. They were worried it was their fault for not realizing you weren't feeling well when they had met you. Not that it was, but they were two boys of ten stuck in a scary situation they couldn't control.

“Someone will need to watch her at all times, the moment something changes I will need to know about it.” In an instant, Luwin, his father, and Lady Catelyn had all begun discussing their own duties and times to work around. Jon once more looked at Robb, following then his eyeline to you laying there as the adults debated who should give what up when.

Thinking to himself, maybe it would've been more prudent to let Robb say it first. He was the eldest, the trueborn son and such a task made sense and he clearly was about to speak up, but while Jon felt the same pull, he also looked at you intently, and something he didn't understand still tugged at his heart.

Like he truly couldn't leave this room when you were like that. So before anyone made any firm decision, Jon raised his voice loud enough to break through the noise. “I'll do it.” Silence fell over the room as did the eyes that all turned to him. The nerves ran somewhat ragged in his blood, but Jon swallowed that all down and looked between his father and Maester Luwin with what he hoped was confidence. “Somebody needs to watch her, right? It's already late, I can take care of her.”

If he was trying to focus on his father, Jon regretted the quick glance his eyes took towards Lady Catelyn as she looked at him. Or glared, to be more accurate. Eyes sharp and dark and her expression twisted into a disapproving frown as if he was some criminal ready to violate you the moment Jon was alone.

His father asking, “Are you sure, Jon?”

Thankfully, he felt more confident in his nod. Another didn't. “Ned.” Her voice as as disapproving as her glare. “She should be watched by someone who knows what they are doing, leaving it to a-”

But he interrupted his wife without malice, but with an ease. “Jon is ten, Cat. Not four. We all have things to attend to, and Jon would only be missing time in the training yard for now.” Looking to Luwin without waiting for any response, he was more focused then before, beckoning Jon to step further into the room with him. “You follow everything Maester Luwin says, alright?”

Bless Robb's young heart, hadn't quite caught that it wasn't one of the boys watching you she disapproved of, it was just the boy being Jon. Coming up to her, putting a comforting arm around his mothers side as it to pull her into a partial hug, as he watched you with as much tense concern as Jon.

Maester Luwin had gently walked Jon through the things he required him to watch for, to pay attention to, and what to do for you to ensure your fever didn't burn you up too much in your sleep. “Any change in those, I need you to come tell me about right away. It's vital we monitor her closely the next number of nights.” Jon moved right near your bedside and though he could feel the cold air from the windows, he too could see the sweat dampening your hair all on your own.

His father had leaned down to him, “I'll come check on you later, alright? Take good care of her.”

Jon didn't look back at his father when he nodded, but just when he thought he was about to be alone, did he feel eyes. Slowly, turning halfway to look at the doorway was her glare. Lady Catelyn stood there looking like something sat right on the tip of her tongue that no doubt would've made Jon feel even worse, but she glanced more softly at you. Her final glare to him less hostile before she made her leave without a word.

The older both of them got, the more Catelyn stopped withholding her spiteful comments towards him in private.

Jon hadn't diverted his focus even once. The way in which Maester Luwin had implied you might not survive the night, terrified him. Every few minutes he would check everything he was told to, and then tell himself as soon as he sat back down, not to get up and check it all again right away. Part of him didn't understand why he cared so much.

He didn't know you, you had barley said six words to him. The daughter of some lord Jon didn't know, but here he sat, too scared to look away in case you would die the moment he did. Didn't even bother getting up to find something warm to wear from the night wind, focusing only on whether or not the fur atop you was too warm and moving to leave the thinner sheets on instead, hoping it would ease your temperature.

It wasn't until many hours had passed, and likely much of the castle either sleeping or trying to sleep did he think more of it. Grey eyes painting over with something disappointed at the thought. That little smile you gave him across the training yard. No one ever looked at him so sweetly. Not that many girls around cared about spending much time with the bastard boy when the heir to Winterfell was always right there, but he never interacted with a girl that way.

Many would hear his name, and stop caring. You didn't even react when he told you he was a Snow and simply asked if he was the second son of Eddard Stark you heard about. No questions or wonders, just an easy clarification before giving him that soft smile.

Something in him started to worry, if you woke up now would you be uncomfortable that he was taking care of you on his own? Or worse, think that he was trying to make up for his surname by doing something to impress you? Would you think him pathetic if you knew he was hoping you'd wake up and he could have that smile again?

By the time the moon was directly over the lands of Winterfell, it dawned on him that this must have been what a crush on a girl felt like. To constantly think about them in a way that made him feel both warm and somewhat embarrassed. He couldn't have a crush on you, you were supposed to be here for months how was he supposed to handle that? What if you never woke up and his only crush on a girl was on a dying one?

On the chair beside your bed, Jons forearms rested on his knees as he leaned as close as he could to get a better angle to make sure even if he couldn't hear your quiet breathing, he could see it. Focused enough he didn't even hear the quiet footsteps coming down the hallway or the figure peeking in watchfully at the open door.

Ned knew out of his two sons, one of them was a bit more sensitive then the other. That wasn't to say Robb was insensitive, just that Jon was the one who felt things more. He felt things more intensely, and much more raw and he wasn't yet good at hiding that on his face. He wore his heart on his sleeve, even though he knew he tried to hide that fact.

It used to scare him. A lot about Jon used to scare him. The man was sure he aged decades in Jons first few years of life. Doing what Jon was doing now, watching intently only for a vastly different reason. His third nameday passed and Ned finally had come to ease up about certain aspects. The fear of what he might look like had gone away.

Then only to be replaced by the fear of who he would take after. Jon struggled with controlling his emotions more then Robb did when they were still young. Never out of control, but clearly Jon took to negative things harder then his brother and it used to be the new thing that scared Ned.

He didn't know much about the man and he didn't want to. But what he did know, he was terrified in ever seeing in Jon. But Northerners were not men said to be weak willed, and him being the one to raise him was doing better for Jon then Ned once feared. Certain parts still worried him, and as he leaned against the door frame, watching his son never take his eyes off the poor, feverish girl, unconscious in her bed, did Ned briefly see it.

Not in a thousand lifetimes would Ned ever use love to describe anything that man had directed towards Jons mother, but perhaps obsession was. Sometimes he pushed it away so deep that he never came close to thinking about any of it. But other times like that moment, Ned watched Jon and was trying to figure out what was simply a result of the life Ned raised him in, and what was something he couldn't control.

He trusted Jon to take care of you, he loved and trusted his son with all his heart. And it was nothing but a genuine worry and affection he watched you with, but it was an intense way he refused to look away that felt like obsession. Even if the boy didn't understand that.

It was one of the few times Ned Stark wondered, just how much of his father had Jon Snow truly inherited?

It was the third morning in a row the Stark parents were alone to break their fast. Normally, it was nice. The quiet between them left Ned and Catelyn the free time to enjoy the others company the way they liked, while somewhere outside in the training yard they could hear Robb and Jon both yelling at the top of their lungs with far too much energy.

But, it was silent. Those who worked around the castle were silent, the guards of his home were silent, and so were they. Ned knew Cat was first more on the side of grateful that Jon was missing more meals then normal. He was never comfortable with his wife's attitude towards Jon, but it was safer then the alternative of truth. It had been ten years since he brought that black haired, grey eyed baby boy home from war and they had simply agreed to speak little of Cat's negative views of her husbands bastard.

It was however, odd that in the silence, Robb wasn't there either. The first few mornings, they had assumed he wasn't in the mood for it, which he wasn't. Robb's lessons for two days, were ended rather early as he could barley concentrate. But then that morning he still wasn't there.

Asking Jory where his son had snuck off too, he had responded with ease of “Went to the kitchens early, brought something over to Jon to eat while Robb watches the poor lass. Was there yesterday morning too, not sure either of them have even slept the past few nights.”

Once more, Ned said not a word of the conflict in Catelyn's eyes as long as she didn't say it. It was the truth in the only ways that ever would matter for good, Jon was his son and he didn't appreciate her hostility being spoken behind his back as if Ned agreed. He was however, much more relieved at his plaguing thoughts of his son, knowing that clearly, his other son was as worried as Jon even if he was better at not showing it.

“Robb should take over.” Ned said his wife's name in warning, but she insisted in a more genuine tone of voice. “It's been days, if it goes on much longer someone will have to watch her instead, regardless. We should let Robb have that responsibility for a while.”

Shaking his head, Ned reached for a drink with not an unkind dismissal. “Jon is doing just fine, if he wants to take care of the girl, so be it.” His wife claiming he should be sharing his responsibilities when Ned shut the rest of the debate down, “Let him have this, Cat. He wants to do it, let him do it.”

Both unaware that Robb had been listening with a narrowed brow in frustration. Not wanting his mother to look badly on his brother, when Robb knew there was nothing wrong with what Jon was doing. Maybe if he did take over for a bit, his mother would be easier on Jon when he inevitably took back over.

“I'm not a moron, Snow.”

Jon tried and failed to not roll his eyes. He wasn't actually annoyed, but he hadn't slept for more then a few hours in three days. His eyes were dark, even beyond the dark grey inside them, and he was irritable more then usual. He had really only let himself sleep a bit when Robb was with him. Normally, it was entirely an accident. Jons head would be propped up on his palm while his elbow was leaning against something and he'd jolt back awake minutes later. Looking between his brother and you before standing up to check on everything all over again.

They were currently debating on whether or not Jon should go up to his room and sleep properly for a while, and Jon would argue that he didn't want to be away if something bad happened. Robb, who wasn't quite as well slept as he pretended to be, would throw back the insinuation asking if he was assuming Robb didn't know how to care for one sick girl. Leading to the debate right now.

Hoping he wasn't coming off as some creep the way he kept insisting he be the one to watch over you himself. And even more hopeful, that Robb had bought the story that one of the maids had done it for you, when his brother asked when your hair had been braided.

He didn't need to know, that in Jon wanting to get your now sweat dampened, messy hair from making you uncomfortable, he had spent an hour figuring out how to do a proper braid in the middle of the night. Three nights and three days had passed since you fell unconscious and Jon had fully accepted what he was feeling.

Because the feeling in his chest, matched far too close with the look of love in his fathers eyes when looking at his own wife. Jon didn't need you to wake up for that, he just wanted you to wake up so he could know you properly by now. Your fever had begun to go down, and significantly over the course of that morning did you begun to cool off enough that Jon closed the windows finally.

At some point, Maester Luwin estimated you would awake sometime in a day or two, and Jon now knew that he wanted to get to know you. Wanted to befriend you, because he needed to be sure the pretty girl he was in love with, at least liked him in a way that mattered.

Jon wondered if the old gods had been listening to him, because it was not much later when Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin had come to check on you did you begin to wake up. The boys kicked out of the room to not overwhelm you, and he still wouldn't see you until the next morning when she led you gently down to have something to eat with them.

You were even quieter then before, wrapped up in a thick, warm shall and looked rather nervous around them all, but that didn't go away for almost a month for everyone.

He felt terribly guilty about it. He was a teenage boy, it was normal, but he felt as if he was somehow in the wrong for doing it.

It all stemmed from how your last letter had been sitting on Jon's desk in his chambers for nearly a month and he still hadn't sent anything back. That wasn't the case with Robb, he knew the two of you still wrote one another like normal. But Jon let that last letter sit there, every now and again telling himself he would finally do something about it, but he would get as far as picking it up before changing his mind. He hadn't even read it yet at that point.

You had only been gone a little over four months but a lot had happened in that time, especially for you he had known. You returned home earlier then planned in order to be there when your mother went into labor. It hurt seeing you go sooner then Jon was ready but he understood that, other then you, she had never made it this far with another pregnancy and it was looking more and more like you would finally have a sibling all of your own.

Finally, only a fortnight after you left, your mother had given birth to a baby girl. He remembered thinking it was fitting you had a sister now. His two baby sisters were still quite young, and they had both taken their fair share attaching themselves to you like their own big sister. You would be perfectly ready to take care of one.

Around the same span of weeks, the Iron Islands had declared themselves as an independent kingdom once more, and a rebellion had begun against them and the crown. Taking both of your fathers away from you and Jon, as they left to fight that war.

Short it was, lasting but two months before they were able to sail to Pyke and after a siege, forced Balon Greyjoy to surrender. His other sons had been killed in the battle, and his brothers Victarion and Euron had been utterly defeated in battle at sea by Stannis Baratheon's fleet. The terms of their surrender in exchange for peace, was in part, the agreement that Balon's last living son was to taken by the Crown. Technically as prisoner, serving by action as ward.

Which was how Theon Greyjoy came into their lives. Serving in the North under Eddard Stark was the better option, not that the Ironborn would say it. He was struggling to get used to his new circumstances, but Jon and Robb were trying to make the best of it. Hoping at least if the Greyjoy found something of a friend in either of them, maybe he'd settle down. That seemed like the worst of it was over.

Until another raven had come. And it was that, which ultimately led to the guilt Jon sat with now in his chambers, far too late at night to be awake still.

Only months after her birth, your new sister Shireen, had somehow contracted a disease known as Greyscale. The entire island of Dragonstone was suddenly closed off and sealed to the world as everyone knew how bad it was. By the time his father sat he and Robb down about it, he had to be realistic about what he told them.

Saying it was possible by now it could have spread to the entire castle. Thus nothing was to go in or out of Dragonstone. No trade, ships, ravens, nothing. They had no idea if you were alright, and it hurt one more then the rest. Robb was upset and angry but he kept calm when not in private in order not to startle his younger siblings, who as of then, didn't quite understand the gravity of the disease being said was in your home.

But Jon? It wasn't good. He had no idea what to do about his feelings as it was, but this helplessness and not even knowing if you were safe, he hated it. Jon was in a bad mood all the time, he was irritable and short in temper.

It was the first time Jon was realizing, his feelings for you had grown out of an innocent childishness between two friends. He thought of you all the time, and he only got angrier everytime he remembered he couldn't even send you a raven telling you he hoped you were alright. Spent a lot of time in the training yard for the next number of weeks, trying to spend that energy on something but at night in the quiet? There was no distracting Jon from the frustrating degree to which he was undoubtedly in love with you.

Robb would find Jon wanted to spend more and more time distracting himself with anything, and more of his days ended up being spent arguing back with Lady Catelyn then ignoring her spite. It was a rough time, and he was pretty sure she despised him once he started letting his temper out more when she was rude or hostile. He didn't feel good about it, and he was never like that with his fathers wife after it had all settled, but it stuck out in her mind and didn't let it go.

Jon didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to tell anyone about his feelings for you. Beacuse with realizing his feelings were much more grown up now, came the understanding that he could never do anything about it. You were a highborn girl, born to the brother of the King. You were part of the royal family and Jon was just a bastard from the North.

It bothered him before, sure. But it wasn't until those days did it truly hit Jon that being with you would never happen. So by the time everything simmered down? He got your first letter in months, and Jon still hadn't opened it. He didn't know what to say.

He knew Shireen's life had been saved, he knew Robert Baratheon had come to Dragonstone to implore his brother he no longer wanted him to serve from there, and that he was of far more use living in the capitol. Jon knew your father had moved you to Kings Landing with him by then. But Jon only knew those things, because of what was said in your letters with Robb.

Jon didn't know what your letter said, but if he read it, then he'd feel compelled to respond to it. Which was the problem. You had been through a lot that made you vastly more mature then girls Jon knew that were your age, but you were also slightly younger then him and thus it made your innocence a lot more important to him. If by some miracle he thought, if you ended up developing anything close to feelings for him, Jon knew his would be different then yours.

He didn't know how to deal with it. He never had a crush before you, and he's never had any eyes for anyone that wasn't you since. It was always you, and Jon had no idea what to do about it all.

You were Jon's best friend. His beautiful, sweet, smart, but incredibly innocent best friend. There was no chance you had even a slight inkling of any physical feelings like that, and Jon wasn't even sure if you really understood what sex even was by that point. It used to be funny to tease you about it, but now it wasn't funny to think about. You deserved to be thought of in a better manner by your best friend, but the way Jon both avoided you and failed at avoiding certain ways of thinking about you was not what you deserved.

By the time you had been in Kings Landing for over a month, Jon still let that letter sit on his desk. Watching Robb answer the more he got, and you wouldn't send him anything. Jon knew you didn't want to send him anything if he didn't want to reply, worrying you'd be pestering him. So he just let you think he was mad at you.

Maybe he thought in retrospective, Jon wouldn't have felt so guilty about all of this, if he could go back and just not have given in. But far too late at night, he finally found it in him to open your letter. He could hear your voice so clear in his head, see you, feel you. The ease in which you fit in his arms that night by the lake without ever thinking twice of his affection. If he asked Theon, he'd likely say it was normal and to just not care about doing it.

It wasn't something new to him, he was a teenage boy after all. But that night, it was the first time Jon got off thinking about you. It took him about another month after that night to write you a letter back, taking that long due to his sheer guilt over it. Then he got your reply so soon, as if you wrote a long letter in minutes and sent the raven off the second you read his letter, excited beyond anything to hear from him finally. And for Jon, the cycle of guilt started over again.

Jon hated having adult feelings for you. Beacuse he knew without any doubt, you were not thinking about Jon, in the same way he did you.

It was a massive risk what he was doing. He should know better, he was a man now, not a boy. Yet, he couldn't tell if it was having just enough wine in him to lower his judgment, or if you simply made him weak.

The four of you had taken advantage of being mostly alone in the castle as far as the Starks went. It wasn't often they all had time to themselves, but they always took advantage of it. Jon, Robb, Theon and you, had all been in the Greyjoy's chambers having far more to drink then they should have. Which in turn, resulted in Theon commenting that he didn't understand how you could keep up with them. “How's a child that small handle that much wine?”

Your face twisting as you threw something at him, “Since when is seventeen a child, Greyjoy? I recall hearing you in here doing an awful lot a child shouldn't when you were seventeen.”

Theon arguing back as Robb and Jon watched in a high degree of amusement between them. “I'm a Greyjoy. We leave the womb practically men already. You on the other hand, I'm amazed you even knew what I was doing in here. Aren't you as innocent as a septa at this point, surprised you even showed up tonight.”

Your answer was to move quicker then he expected, snatching his own wine and downing it in one go with not a blink or flinch. Before leaning back in your seat with a smirk of your own. “I'm a Baratheon, if we're good at two things, it's drinking, and yelling.”

That in turn as well, resulted in you and him having a competition, some sort of drinking challenge that was common amongst Ironborn. The two wolves ended up watching in great entertainment how much you and Theon tried to pretend you weren't as drunk as you both clearly had become. Robb and Jon both laughing that they were grateful they didn't put money on it, because to all three of their surprises, you had managed to put on a fairly composed face for just long enough that Theon relented.

Granting you the title of victor as Theon stumbled back into a drawer, Robb laughing as he yanked him up to at least settle him. “If you're going to pass out, least do it on your bed.”

Theon had barley laid down, eyes shut as he swore at you under his breath. You managing to get a steady laugh out at his expense before moving from the table. Only the second you stood up, clearly the world had spun you off your feet. Theon grumbling from where he lay, “Oh so they rush to save you, but let me fall on my ass.”

Jon had grabbed you before you fell to the ground, but being pulled back into him only made you laugh more. Jon being drunk enough that he found no ability or notice to the way he smiled and looked adoringly at how easily you let loose. Robb had grabbed your hands to pull you more on your own feet as Jon kept you steady. The elder wolf half turning back with a quickness to Theon, “That's because unlike you, her ass is pretty.” You grumbled telling him to shut up, as Robb nudged you back with a grin.

Eventually, the two of them had decided to split up. Robb staying to make sure Theon wasn't about to throw up in his sleep, as Jon would bring you back to your own chambers. The door behind him had only just closed when he took advantage of the empty hallway. Going from keeping you at his side, to scooping you up in his arms, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck with a laugh as you protested with his name falling from your lips to put you down.

Jon had no proper sense in the empty hall, despite who was so close behind that door. Turning to look at you, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a needing kiss before mumbling against them. “Shut up and let me enjoy you, Baratheon.” Kissing you once more before you rolled your eyes, leaning into him with a smirk but relenting.

Bringing you into your own chambers, Jon had gently laid you on your bed. “Stay there.” Moving about your room in a moment, tending to the fire in your room before closing the window still open from the day. You had pushed up on your palms to sit against the headboard up right, eyes narrow as Jon then sat on your bed, reaching for your boots to begin pulling them off.

Your voice was quiet, quieter then Jon assumed you thought you were being. “I can do this part myself, you know.”

Jon barley reacted, instead moving to gently pull off your outer layers, knowing you'd just sleep in them uncomfortable by that point if left on your own. “Just let me take care of you.” He knew you caught his playfully dismissive tone, even as light as your mind left you. Leaning back more comfortably, Jon knew he could feel your eyes on him, trying not to feel his own flustering smirk. “What?”

But it was as he looked up at you, did your eyes seek his out, painting nothing but gentle and soft as you found no will power to look away. Mumbling a bit, “Why are you so sweet to me?” Jon raised a questioning eyebrow as he slid closer on the bed more to where you sat, waiting for you to elaborate.

Hand reaching out, you grabbed one of his, gently playing and mindlessly toying with his own fingertips as you spoke, before letting it rest in your lap still holding the other. “No one's ever been as sweet or nice to me as you always are. I don't get it, even tonight I'm only being a drunk pest but here you are anyways.”

His hand reached up, cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over the soft skin, leaning forward to let you feel more of his own warmth, rasping quietly. “You're my drunk pest, only I get to put up with you like this.” Your face twisted in a jesting offence, so he moved to lean forward. Hovering just above your lips, waiting for you to be brave enough that night to kiss him first. But you exhaled shakily, and so for another day Jon closed the gap.

His hand slipping behind to cup the back of your neck to hold you closer, your hands gently found themselves resting on his shoulders, nails digging into the material, as you let him softly guide you. His own touch moving down to your waist, as you let him deepen the kiss, leaving a small bite on your bottom lip. But it was the gasp you let you, that caused him to do it again, and twice more before feeling bold and using that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, running against yours as he felt you both tense and reach a hand up to somewhat grasp at the edge of his neck where his curls sat almost instinctively.

Jon tilted your head up just enough that you had no choice but to meekly surrender control over to him, as he let his tongue brush yours. As if trying to convince you to be brave enough to explore him back, but Jon had known you were not the same as where he was about these things.

Sure his only experience was you, as yours was his. Maybe it was spending the past around five years growing from teenage boys to men with Robb and Theon, perhaps it was just the natural inclination being a man that made his mind more susceptible to thinking about you so physically. He'd been thinking about you like this since he was fourteen, and it was four years on did he even kiss you for the first time.

Jon had a lot of worked up need held in his system, but he knew the only physical things you knew much of at all, were limited. What Jon had explored with you so far, even if it was next to nothing significant. And he knew the noble girls you spent time around in Kings Landing spoke more candidly about certain things, but he didn't know what those were.

So he tried to keep you as innocent as you deserved. Only, as your other hand slipped down to run along his torso, it wound up sitting just low enough beyond his hipbone, and Jon felt that spark of need.

Losing himself for a moment, Jon surged forward. Kissing you more roughly, switching between bites that left your lips tingling and overwhelming you with how much he deepened it in between. There had been something in his mind the second he felt your palm sliding so low without realizing, something that made his cock stir. Climbing up onto the bed, you had no choice but to lay out flat as Jon hovered over you. His hand on your waist now pressed into the sheets beside you as was now the hand at the back of your head the other side. Your own now both at his waist as Jon felt more in control over top of you.

More and more he forgot to ease up. The more he kissed you, the more of your sighs and sounds, the high pitched need he would capture with his lips, the more Jon grew hard. Forgetting himself, forgetting what he would tell himself, that it was his responsibility to keep you innocent. Both a burning need to feel you more against him when so close this way, and something more instinct as Jon moved to grasp at your thigh. Holding tight he slightly shoved it wide before pulling up the skirt of your dress. Not enough he could see anything, but still you gasped.

And Jon once more let his tongue taste inside your mouth, moving enough so that he had the proper space to press more into you. He knew the very moment you felt his covered cock hard against you, as you made something akin to a needing moan of a sound deep in your throat. The wine had made you pliable to his need, and it had clouded just enough of his judgment that Jon started to grind his hard cock into you.

Thigh hoisted up onto his hip, Jon would lick and bite at your lips in the same instance he would rut into your core. Your hands reached for his shoulders and back arched up into his chest. Were he sober, Jon would've been able to tell you were far too nervous for this, but he struggled to hear that in his mind.

He rutted into you, growing harder against what he could tell was so warm between your legs, even through all the fabric. His mind was difficult to read for himself that you two were far too new for this. You hadn't been expecting this, he hadn't done anything like this to you before, and yet here he was with a low growl in his chest at how good you felt against him.

Once more a large, rough hand grasped at your jaw and side of your neck as he held your lips up his without chance of escape, as your hands found comfort in raking through his curls. He growled into your mouth as you let out a quiet whine before pulling back. Small strands of saliva breaking just as Jon rested his forehead against yours, hips moving perfectly against yours, as you looked unable to choose between peering up at him and keeping your eyes closed. The only sounds between you were heavy breathing and a restrained need in Jons low sounds of a growl.

Jon had no way of knowing, impossible for him to guess, but that burning and twisting feeling in your core, was actually something you didn't recognize. Didn't understand what you were feeling or if it was supposed to feel this way. The only understanding you had, was you were the woman, so you were supposed to just do what made the man feel good. Even though your heart raced and your mind felt confused with so much wine in your system, you tried to move against him because you wanted him to keep feeling what clearly felt this good for him.

Yet, as soon as you tried to move back against his hips in return, did Jon suddenly pull back. Kneeling up moreso between your still spread legs as you both panted to catch your breathe.

He looked down at you, the innocent confusion mixed with something overwhelmed in your eyes as you braced yourself up on your palms waiting for him to say something. But the more his gaze trailed down your body, the more he sobered up and the worse he felt. Pulling your dress back down modestly, Jon almost climbed off the bed entirely before you reached a hand out to his arm. “Wait- did I do something wrong?”

Jon's entire face twisted as he breathlessly looked at you with narrowed eyes, “What? No, of course not-” You had started to stammer asking what you did to make him stop, but suddenly the clearer Jons mind became, the more he realized how not even slightly clear yours was. You were so much more drunk then he was, and so much more willing to do only whatever he wanted.

Tentatively, his hands rested on your thighs, pausing as he went to move to position himself beside you, a gentle look in his eyes with a murmur, “I'm right here, lay down for me is all I'm asking.” You looked at him unsure before relenting. Laying down more comfortably, as Jon found himself laying on his side beside you. Tilting your head to look over at him with a hand gentle on your cheek. “You didn't do anything wrong, but it's not alright of me to take advantage of you when you're drunk.”

Your face both twisted in frustration, but also fell almost innocently confused. Your voice was even quieter, “You can't take advantage of me if you already have me in bed.” Jon could tell you had no awareness that you weren't anywhere near sober. “It doesn't matter Jon, just keep going.”

Letting his head fall somewhat into your neck, you reached up to gently run your hands through his curls as he turned your cheek better to fit your lips to his when he raised back up. Nothing deep or tense, just a chaste kiss as he mumbled against them after. “You're not a whore I've paid for, darling. You're not supposed to just lay there letting me do whatever I want to you, no matter what. You have to want it too, and not when you're this drunk.”

It was almost endearing, the way your brows furrowed. Tonight was bad time to have this discussion, you weren't sober enough to grasp his point. Evident by your very quiet plea, turning onto your side somewhat to see him better. “I don't care about any of that, you were enjoying yourself.”

“You're supposed to enjoy yourself too.”

Seven hells, did you ever break his heart as you so earnestly responded, “No, I'm not.” What on earth had those other noble girls in Kings Landing been saying to you? What could they possibly have told you that made you think you shouldn't- he had to reign his emotions in. Jon felt himself getting angry and he desperately did not want you to think it was at you.

Your green ones stared intently into his bright and tense grey eyes, until Jon sighed deeply. Running his hand along your cheek innocently again before muttering, “Get some sleep, we can discuss this tomorrow when you're feeling better.” Ignoring as you mumbled that you felt fine, as Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Not a second did he get away before you switched moods, reaching out to him the second he moved to get up. “Wait- stay.” Your urgency almost surprised him as well as yourself. “Just...just for now..I don't want you to leave yet..”

Jon knew staying was a risk. If he fell asleep, someone could easily come and find you both like this in the morning. But you were so soft, and your eyes so bright and innocent looking up at Jon that he hated how quickly he gave in. Nodding before pressing one more kiss to your lips. “Only until you fall asleep.”

Turning so you were curled into his chest facing him, Jon couldn't help but decide the risk had to be worth it. Nothing was going to outweigh how perfect it felt to have you fall asleep in his arms. Or, perhaps that was only a confident thought until Jon accidentally let his eyes slip closed. And falling asleep right with you.

If the look his father gave him, when he noticed Jon sneaking into his own room so early in the morning that the sun was barley in the sky, had said anything? Jon was at least glad he stopped himself before he took the previous night any further with you. Otherwise the innocent guilt of being noticed sneaking around would have been a lot more obvious what he was sneaking away from, had Jon taken your body the way you had told him too.

Jon knew he wasn't supposed to be with you anywhere near this way, but if you were both going to keep this between you, Jon had to step up. He had to be the one to ensure he protected your innocence, even against himself.

Unbeknownst to him, Jon was lucky his father trusted him as much as he did. Ned was aware that if there was only one thing he could be sure of, is was that there was no chance Jon would so recklessly take your maidenhead, and certainly not like that. When he could tell the signs that his sneaking son so early in the morning, had clearly been drinking the night before. Meaning you had been as well.

He knew he was better then that, so he said not a word but a nod to him, despite the wide eyed, confused, and nervous look he got from Jon in return before they parted ways. But after that, Ned silently and closely paid attention. He watched yours and Jon's affection grow closer, and it became clear there were more then just feelings. There was something there that you and Jon were trying to hide from everyone but each other. But Ned knew that you made his son happy, and his son made you happy.

He had thought, maybe that would be enough.

Ned had always come to the godswood after taking a life. He would sit on the moss covered wood and stone in the still warmth of summer, taking every care of Ice as he contemplated the truth of what he always had to do. The lad, Will, he was the fourth deserter just that year. Something kept driving them to run from the Wall, and according to Benjen more rangers would disappear in increasing numbers these past years. He hadn't slept well the night before thinking over it.

What the ranger said too, it kept him up far longer then he would admit to his wife. So he had come here to think in the quiet of the old gods. The last he had seen of his children they were spending time in the kitchens, the younger ones all debating what to name their wolf pups. Another strangeness he thought not what to make of it.

His first choice was only out of survival, so young they stood not a chance in the wild alone. He didn't like hearing the innocent plea of his son, but it was cruel to leave them out to die when a quick one would spare the kind of things that ended their mother. An argument had almost started over it, Robb and Theon grating their tones at one another over the decision, Bran begging for it against Neds firm choice of their fates.

Very likely, anything else said he wouldn't have heard more of it. But it was how unusual it sounded coming from his sons mouth. It wasn't the first time Jon had chosen to be purposely formal about his position, but it never felt normal to hear “Lord Stark,” it was uncomfortable and he knew why. Had any of his other sons suggested it he might not have considered. But he knew what Jon had done.

Jon had willingly counted himself as not one of the Stark children in order to convince him that they were meant to have the wolf pups. Had that been Bran or Robb's argument he wouldn't have heard it, but it was the sacrifice Jon made on his own that stood out to him. So he let his sons bring them home, only to quickly notice that Jon had returned to the horses with a sixth. A small, but bright white one with large blood red eyes that reminded him of the colours of the Weirwood he now sat under.

It was interesting he had thought, that it was that blood red eyed wolf pup that could see perfectly, while the others were still just as young and still blind. It was odd it was only that one.

But, whatever of the wolves and words spoken of the North that found plagued his mind, was nothing against the words which followed in the air. Catelyn had come to him, she never liked the godswood of Winterfell. Born under the Light of the Seven just as all southerners were, Ned had the small sept here built for her when he finally brought her up to the North. He knew some news must have occurred to bring her in a place she little liked to disturb.

“All these years and I still feel like an outsider when I come here.”

Smiling at his wife, he easily dismissed such notions. “You're not an outsider, you have five Northern children.” Going back and forth about their gods, and he always found himself thankful they could speak with such ease over the differences still between them. But it didn't stay easy for long.

A raven scroll sat in her hands as she looked up with a genuine sorrow. “I am so sorry, my love.” What tragedy came with such news, ended up being nothing against the mysteries that had wrapped itself around it, prompting her to continue. “There was a raven from Kings Landing. Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him.”

If Ned's grief could go back in time, he would have wished for himself to be thankful that the man had not lived to suffer, as it felt all of them did in what became Ned's final days. The pain was shaking as he sat in the godswood, but there was little he knew what to do with it or how to feel. Trying to push it down, but his wife always saw him perfectly, gently finding her words once more, “I know he was like a father to you.”

Only, it wasn't the end. It was the beginning of an end for himself, but the start of a nightmare he had not recalled so vividly and fearfully coming soon onto twenty five years.

“The raven brought more news. The King rides for Winterfell. With the queen and all the rest of them.”

Ned said it just as it came into his mind, neither of them needed to say it out loud so specifically to understand. “If he's coming this far North, there's only one thing he's after.” More then two decades had passed, Ned knew it wasn't a reasonable worry to think Robert would find out now. But it still scared him.

That boy was his son, for every single way it mattered to Ned that was his son, but it still scared him. It sacred him despite knowing that wasn't any that might in his eyes, face, looks, nothing. He was more of a Stark then any of them in every way. It was an awful thought, but he hoped Robert by now had long forgotten what she looked like. And maybe, he'd be able to see none of her in him. Beacuse one look at his son, and he could see every part of his looks, his son had gotten entirely from her.

Had she been here, they could've stood side by side now, and looked identical.

But once more, the gods loved their cruel jokes. Catelyn now sat next to him, gave a look to the side of her. “There is one more thing.” Much to Neds surprise, your name came from her mouth. “She will be riding with them to Winterfell. Her father has left the capital for an unknown amount of time and she is to return to serve in his place on the council when they leave here.” Ned had a distinct feeling Catelyn wasn't merely making small talk. “But that isn't all. The King himself has ordered her to do one thing while she is still in Winterfell.”

As it turned out he realized, you and Jon making each other happy, wouldn't be enough any longer.

Robb Stark knew many in arranged marriages never even saw each other for the first time until their wedding day, only found out then if their betrothed was someone they could even stand to look at or talk too. So, in such a way, Robb knew he was lucky. He had known you since he was ten, and he was as close with you as any that entire time.

But neither of you thought this was coming. If Robb knew you well, the moment he was likely to be alone with you for the first time, you would begin to apologize as if it was your fault this was decided for you. He would have to shut that down and fast. You'd spiral if Robb let you.

It had been along time since he had ever thought of you in such a way, he was still a boy when he once had a crush on you. But much like many experienced, it was fleeting and he found more solace in your friendship then worrying about anything further. That further was now though. Or, if timings were correct, a fortnight from now.

Robb would retire to his chambers at night and would find it such an odd image to think only in one more fortnight passed, it would be yours to share. The room, his space, his life and his bed. Being a boy of fourteen with a crush was one thing, it was another for ten years later to be told he only had one month to prepare to share everything of his life and himself with you. Marrying you wasn't the worst part of it, it was getting over how sudden and new it was going to all be.

He had smirked to himself one night with almost a passing huff of a laugh, thinking about how nervous you inevitably would be about kissing him at the wedding. Perhaps if you didn't have to do so in front of the royal company you traveled with, it would be much easier to do so in front of the family you spent half your life around.

Though, royal company or not, there was one who it wouldn't be easy on no matter what. They only had to watch, but Robb had spent the past weeks growing increasingly guilty about becoming comfortable with marrying you, as his brother had spent growing angrier and brooding without ever telling anyone it was because of the same thing.

Jon Snow had spent the past weeks in a terrible mood, because Robb was marrying you.

He had spent a good amount of time trying to figure it out, what was going on in his brothers head but it wasn't until their father and Robb's mother had told all of them what the situation coming their way was. If two bits of news weren't enough, it was the third that caused him to realize it. Every single one of his siblings all had their own reactions to learning the King was ordering you to and Robb to marry, but it was Jon who had none.

There wasn't a single readable reaction on his face, and Robb knew too well how bad that was.

In truth, it didn't occur to Robb as a shock or even surprise. Jon never had a relationship of any sorts, and the only girl he spent any meaningful time around outside his family, was you. Robb was close with you, but he knew Jon was closer. And it only made sense eventually Jon would start seeing you in a different light.

His brother didn't really have a type, but the only one that made sense was his type being you. Robb didn't know if there was more to Jons feelings, if there was anything romantic he felt towards you, or even how long Jon had been looking at you in that way, but it was clear as day.

Jon wanted you, but Robb would now be the one to have you.

Not that he blamed him. Robb had his turn with a crush on you as a boy, and now that you were Jons best friend and had grown up to be gorgeous, at least in Robb's view, spending so much time alone with you finally had an effect on Jons brooding, stubborn heart. And yet he spent as much energy as he could, trying to ease Robbs nerves about marrying so suddenly.

The closer the royal company came to arriving, the worse Robb watched Jon feel. He couldn't even be sure Jon had kissed a girl before, but he certainly wanted to fuck one, wanted to fuck you. But he knew the reaction if Robb ever confronted him about it. Jon would shut down and never even come close to talking about it or you again.

So he had to act natural. Pretend as if he was none the wiser of his brothers deep want of Robbs soon to be wife. He had to act normal when Theon would turn the conversation to the coming inevitable during the wedding, and balance that act of being modest yet interested in what all of them knew was a very pretty girl. And also contrast it with not wanting it to feel like that fact was being rubbed in Jons face without giving away that he knows.

Maybe Robb thought, it would've been easier for Jon to handle if he had just taken the risk and fucked you during your last visit. Get it out of his system. He knew the opportunity was there. Their father and Robb's mother had taken the Stark children out of the castle for the day. Much of their main guard came with them, as did Theon naturally being their fathers ward.

You were moreso at that point a ward serving Winterfell as a whole, and Robb knew his father trusted that between you and Jon, things would get done without question. Their father always trusted Jon with as much in leadership, if not more then Robb himself sometimes. Considering by late night when they had arrived back, everything was in perfect order, clearly you both had spent the entire day doing just those duties.

Robb now and then, though then it was only a growing suspicion, couldn't help but think, it would have been so much easier on Jon, had he seized the opportunity of being alone in the castle, and taken you to bed. Jon was brooding, and intense and rough sometimes.

But even if no feelings were there, Jon very clearly adored you. He was brighter and smiled more when you were in Winterfell and you both always found your spare time with the other most often. It wasn't like his brother would have given you a miserable time, Jon loved doing things for you as it was.

Robb knew that was certainly the opposite between them. Jon would very likely have taken being the one to have your maidenhead very gentle and seriously, not letting you leave until he was certain you enjoyed yourself. Robb however, knew he was going to struggle to be easy and gentle come your wedding night. He also couldn't stop the thoughts of just what he wanted to do, what he wanted to explore with what was his soon to be, pretty little wife.

He hadn't been with a woman in years by then, but still. Women didn't come to Robb Stark for a gentle love making, they came to get fucked. He wouldn't have minded either. He didn't care if his wife wasn't a maiden on their wedding, certainly you. To any other husband you would have been married off, to had the Queen been given her way when you were a girl of fourteen, Robb knew you being a maiden would've mattered. But he didn't care.

If his brother of all people was the one to fuck you before Robb, that was the only one he'd trust.

But instead, Jon was a gentleman as always with you. The one opportunity he would have had to pull you into bed with him, and Jon didn't take it. Part in due because he was nothing but entirely respectable towards you and what all three men knew was your endearing innocence, but also because he was a bastard, and you were the Kings niece.

Inside the castle walls, their father wanted Jon to be treated no different then the rest of his siblings but everyone knew it wasn't like that in the outside world. Bastards were simply treated differently, and it wouldn't stand out in a good way to so blatantly show such treatment to Jon when many places in the North didn't treat their bastards as such. And he knew that too well, and never let himself get too complacent.

You had joked to Robb once that maybe he should've been born on Bear Island. It was a long standing rumor that the Lady of Bear Island, Maege Mormont, had all five of her girls from different fathers. She had never married, and her second eldest daughter Alysanne was unmarried with two children of her own as well. And they all bore the name Mormont and no one ever questioned that about them.

You had said in a quiet but what Robb knew was a very serious tone, that it would have fixed a lot of Jons personal struggles if the rest of the world outside the castle walls didn't treat him like a bastard the way most in here didn't. Though, you did also add amusingly, “Perhaps the lack of such loud, rowdy, Northern men has something to do with such tolerance amongst the Mormonts.”

Robb had been helping you with something in the storage by the stables, and he recalled Ser Harwin trying not to laugh as Robb grinned. Grabbing you by the hips and almost hauling you up and over to where a basin of fresh water sat. “If we're so rowdy, my lady, best not insult us in case we won't tolerate that little attitude.”

There wasn't any changing things now. You were about to be Robbs wife, and none of you could go back. Robb just wished Jon weren't so bloody selfless about you. But then, word had come to Winterfell that the next mid morning was when the Kings company would arrive and it was only a matter of time before Robb and Jon both would have to accept their fates.

As it stood, Catelyn had told all three of them, him, Jon and Theon that they were to at least look respectable for the King. Sending them off to Tommy to get cleaned up. Facial hair clean shaven, and hair nice and freshly cut. She said it was for the King, but all of them doubted that. Jon was the first to speak up, “Why's your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?”

Theon, who was waiting to go last had that answer. And both wolves did a good job at not letting either of them have a real reaction as your name came from his mouth. “It's for her I bet.” Gesturing towards Robb, “And if you have to look all nice fancy for your betrothed, then so do we apparently.”

“Not like she'd care.” Both eyes directed up towards Jon who was stood opposite of where Robb was being tended to first. “We spent half her life roughing her up in the training yard, looking nice for one day won't change any of that.” Jon was doing a better job at appearing neutral these days.

Theon replying, “I'll wager the Queen will spend half the morning tomorrow trying to doll her up. Might get to see what a royal girl is supposed to look like on her for once.” Robb had passively asked with jest if he'd been thinking of that a lot. Theon's face falling amusingly flat. “You assume I'm thinking of her, when we got the Queen coming our way. I hear she's a sleek bit of mink.”

Robb not bothering to entertain that conversation, “I hear the Prince is a right, royal prick.”

Theon had joked about all the southern girls he'd get though, and Robb still noticed it. Even with the change in subject, Jon was silent. But it wouldn't change. You'd arrive tomorrow morning, and in some week time, Robb would be the one to marry you before the Weirwood.

He wasn't going to make it worse for his brother, by treating him as if he knew any different. If Jon hadn't said anything by now, clearly, he didn't want Robb to know anything. And he respected that, so instead, as he stood, Robb did what he knew best. Just play normal. Smacking Jon as he shoved him passed to switch positions with a playfulness on his voice, speaking the opposite of the truth.

“Go on, Tommy, shear him good. He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.”

Neither of you were sure when this idea even came about, or if either one of you had actually said it in the open air. It was just felt in the backs of your mind as you both sat there, where this day was leading ultimately. What would it's end result in and what happened from there.

It started off as a strange feeling as normal as it felt. You and Jon rarely spent time alone so freely, but both of you sat in the quiet to eat. Being able to take your time, joke and laugh freely not worrying too much about what to do or say. It wasn't often you got to see Jon smile and laugh so easily and it made you feel just a bit warmer on the inside whenever it was from something you said.

Jon also, had never looked so freely bright and adoring at you out in the open before. The workers and guard around the castle didn't pay much notice to it, not much to pay attention close too. Most of the Starks gone for the day, leaving behind Lord Stark's younger ward and his bastard son. Eyes didn't pry as much. It certainly made Jon a little more playfully bold.

You had been at that point picking mindlessly at the food in front of you, mostly taking advantage of the fantasy of having a normal meal as if you two were a normal, domestic couple. Speaking candidly through bites, “I could almost swear he did it just to make me uncomfortable.”

Jon's brows narrowed as he leaned forward across the other side of the table from you, “He never tried anything did he?”

In truth you almost laughed, shaking your head instead. “Petyr Baelish is a smarmy little weasel, but isn't stupid. He doesn't just do whatever he wants, he had to be clever about it. And for me, what he wants is just to enjoy making me stand there and discuss budgetary matters, while he moonlights as the capitals favourite whoremonger.” Your eye roll came with a sigh, and Jons shoulders relaxed noticeably.

Tilting his head a bit, you knew the look in his eye was genuine as was the softness in his tone. Perhaps if you were speaking of here in Winterfell, that advice would work. “You should tell someone, you sit on the council like him. He shouldn't get to treat you like that.”

But the doubt in your eyes came as strong as your tone was flat. “And say what? That I'm being forced to sit in a building full of naked women for free? I'd be laughed out of the small council chamber before I even finish that sentence.” Jon shook his head almost too himself, when you let your forearms rest crossed on the wooden table as your voice softened. “It's only annoying. Not upsetting, you don't have to get protective about everything,”

Your foot moved to gently nudge what of his leg you could reach when Jon sent his hand down to grab at your foot, pulling you closer to the table as he let your foot rest on his lap. Your boots just short enough that with one of his hands resting visibly on the table, the other gently pushed just enough of the skirt of your dress up, that he could run his hand mindlessly over your shin and calf.

Jon said nothing about how flustered his touch was making you, speaking to you like normal save for the mischievous glint in his eye. “You look like you want to say something.” He knew you too well, as soon as you went to lightly kick him, Jon grabbed your shin firmly and tugged you back into place, his grin growing easy as your face twisted in an exaggerated offence.

Your voice a accusing jest with narrowed eyes, “Aren't you just the funniest man to ever walk these halls, Snow.”

Jon only smirked, nodded at your plate with as much mocking disapproval of your tone. “Finish your food, Baratheon. We have work to do.”

Nothing about the average course of the day stood out, it was easy to get things done in between Jon being able to more freely enjoy your company with whatever you both had to do. You laughed a little more easily, Jon teased you a little more purposely, and yet you both were ignoring the inevitable of what was being led too.

For six years this little romance had been brewing in secret, and in those six years it had taken a long time to get to here. Sure, technically you were gone for months in between but for many couples Jon would have assumed that distance would've made both parties even more eager to push things faster and quicker. Not to say the pair of you were terribly slow, no, you both went at the same pace.

Jon had no more experience then you did, and you knew a lot less about a physical relationship then even he did. He was certain there was very little you were likely even aware that there was to try, and the only thing you came to him with on your own wasn't your idea. Just what you heard the girls who hung around the Winter Town brothel would speak of, and assumed it was something you were supposed to be doing.

It had taken perhaps, a little bit longer to get to this point because Jon didn't want to rush you into anything. You clearly had a not very fair view of what was expected of you as a woman in terms of sex, and it took those first couple of years with the other to gently teach you that you were supposed to enjoy each other, and nothing more. You always did things for others, and Jon knew you assumed that this was just another one of those things.

Neither of you had even done very much in reality, not compared to what you could have been doing with the other. But somehow, you both landed on this. That maybe this opportunity was for the act that mattered the most. You were returning to Kings Landing not long after that day, and you both had decided it was the right time.

Jon had spent a lot of time thinking about it, how to do it, what would be the most comfortable for you and by that late afternoon he had gone through the plans in his head more times then he could count as he made his way to his own chambers. First plan being to make sure everything was as organized as possible, make sure it was warm enough before going to go get you.

But you instead, had apparently decided to make that step for him. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you sitting at the edge of his bed. Your hands wrung together in your lap clearly trying to not appear as nervous as Jon could tell you were. Realistically he knew no one else was around, but he found himself checking the hall behind him regardless before closing the door.

Something a little more easily playful on his tongue couldn't get spoken faster then your rigid explanation, trying to appear as calm with a little shrug. “I figured it would be more simple if I were already here, rather then you having to come fetch me and we then would have to walk over and pretend as it everything was normal.”

Nodding gently, Jon paced in slowly as if not wanting to startle you. His eyes narrowing a bit in thought as he tried to gauge just what your nerves were settled at. “How long have you been waiting?”

You shrugged, trying to appear normal as if Jon couldn't read you like a book. Glancing away as you glanced around his room to nothing, “Long enough I almost talked myself out of it again.” Jon repeated the word again as the came to stand somewhat in front of you, a good few feet away to give you space to think. “I only meant, I won't particularly know what I'm doing so maybe you wouldn't..”

Only a few paces of footsteps rung out before Jon stood in front of you. One hand held out, your head tilting up to the bright, genuine shine in his eyes. As soon as you grabbed one, he pulled you up with the other, letting you rest your hands where you were comfortable, as he gently held you by your upper arms. Leaning down to softly rasp, “I don't need you to know what you're doing, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Jon waited for you to nod, normally he'd want to hear you say it, but he could feel the nerves flooding your veins from where he stood. Letting a hand run over your hair before tilting you head back up to his eyes when it dropped, your voice was low when you finally spoke. If you weren't so nervous, Jon would have smiled at how formally you tried to approach it. “How do we start?”

The smile slipped in just as he leaned down to brush against your lips, one chaste kiss before mumbling against them. “However we like.” Slowly, as he captured your lips again, Jon felt your hands slowly follow up his chest to wrap gently around the back of his neck as he held you close at your waist.

His kiss was gentle, coaxing you to ease into things without rushing how deep he pushed you, if anything going slower then he normally would. One hand leaving your waist, he raked it tenderly through your hair before cupping the back of your head to keep your lips close against his strength over you. Your fingers slowly making their way through his curls in return.

Leaving you with little breathe left, Jon barley pulled from your lips. Almost moving in closer to you if you tried pulling back for air, making your hands tighten in his hair that much more. Gently running his tongue along your bottom lip, did you part ways for him to slip in, brush against yours as something like a moan tried getting pushed down in your chest.

Guiding you to move along with him, you started to relax in his touch. Just what he wanted, make you nice and calm for anything else. None of this would be good if you were tense, and Jon lived for the high pitch sounds you would gasp into his mouth. Deepening and licking into your mouth Jon let the hand on your waist move, grasping the light shall still partially around you, pulling it to the side and letting it drop to the ground.

Grinning into the kiss at your slight shiver in the cold air of his room, you wrapped your arms around him even more to seek his natural warmth. Once more now both his hands moving to slide along your waist down to your hips, running flat up and down at the soft material without ever committing to grasping it.

Just as your hands tightened again, it almost was enough to pull at his curls, causing a sound akin to a growl to leave Jon. Pulling from your lips, he kissed down to your jaw and along your neck. His cock stired at both that feeling and the high pitched gasp you were barley able to hide leaving you. His teeth scraping against the skin without breaking it, as his greed grew stronger.

Moving down and down your neck he reached your collarbones before he looked up, standing back at full height to tilt your head up to him while the other hand traced along just the very side of your breasts. “We can keep most of it on if you want, but I'd like to see you. All of you.” Swallowing nervously, he kissed you once before running his nose along yours. “It's up to you, we're not doing anything you don't want.”

Your hands dropped to his shoulders, digging into the leather as you thought for a moment before letting a bit of bravery through. “Could we..” Glancing down at him, Jon kissed you once more.

“I'll take some of it off, but I want you to do the rest of it, when you're ready.” Nodding a bit more eagerly, Jon stepped back. Pulling off his tunic, outer layers until just the soft material was left, easy to take off when you wanted to. As he took a step forward once more, his hands ran up your arms and to your shoulders. Toying with the fabric with a question in his eye, waiting for you to nod.

Ever so slowly, he started to run them down to your front. Waiting for one more nod when he stopped at the clasps of your dress before undoing them. Letting each go slow, your breathing increased despite trying to hide it. As it fell open, the dark shift sat underneath short on your legs. Restraining himself despite the way he inhaled deeply through his nose. He had seen parts of you, not all of you, not like you were about to let him.

Finally, he pushed the rest of the dress off as it landed on the ground by your feet. Both your gazes looking down, Jon smiled once more. “Sit for me,” Your eyebrow raised but he gave a playful shove to make you move back.

Innocent as he took your boots off, hand sliding up from your ankle to your calf as he looked up at you with bright eyes. He didn't move any further from there, just massaging the muscle almost until he felt you relaxing again and then guiding you to stand, now a bit shorter against him. Rasping lowly, “Can we take the rest of this off you now, or do you want to wait?”

Your face twisted in thought for a moment, before much more confidently shaking your head. Hands no longer tense on him, and a trust shining in your eyes as you leaned up to kiss him. Your touch now running across his facial hair at his jaw until Jon nibbled at your lips again to pull away. That time, there was no hesitation as he pulled the thin straps of your shift down your shoulders before pushing the material enough it fell off you entirely.

Eyes growing more needing and black as he looked down at you, Jon told himself to wait. One last thing, stepping forward he grasped your underwear with a hand on each side grasping as he kissed you a little bit rougher, a little more greedy as he just pulled them right down your legs. Grabbing your hips to prompt you to step out of them before Jon blindly kicked at everything by your feet.

Instead though, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his front as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Letting him deepen and bite at your lips while his other hand felt along your bare waist and hip. Other then the crackle of the fire, all that could be heard was how desperately he kissed you. Taking every sound you gifted him before tearing himself away from your lips, hands at your hips as you both gasped for air did he finally look you over.

There was no denying how unbelievably hard he was. Jon thought to himself, he was a fool for ever thinking you'd look like anything but exactly this. You were perfect to him, soft and plush in all the most unbearable ways that made his blood run hot. He was so glad he hadn't seen you like this before, he might not have been so noble about keeping you innocent if he knew you looked like that under those beautiful dresses.

Not a thing about the lustful awe Jon's eyes gazed over you was honorable. Part of him wanted to pick you up and throw you onto his bed then and there, but he knew you felt self conscious at how long he'd been so silent for. Finding your eyes, his own lips a bit parted as he struggled to find a more innocent compliment, instead he chose to pull your chin up, and press his lips back to yours for something much more slow and deep. “You...you are..”

Still struggling to find words, Jon did better with action. But you tried filling in the blanks with nothing even close to how worked up he was feeling. “Am- is it alright?” Brows narrowing he looked at you a bit confused and you shrugged. Your hands sat uselessly at at his shoulders. “I know it's..other girls are more impressive then this..especially when I'm, you know..standing here having to compare to you.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into his front a little more, hands addicted to running along your bare frame. “And what's that supposed to mean exactly?”

Drifting down to his chest and down along his stomach, your fingertips pressed into the defined muscle there with a mumble. “I mean, I have eyes Jon. You're all muscle and I'm...not...”

Eyes finding yours, he barley managed to rasp out, “Your softness is everything I dream about, I promise.” Before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a firmer kiss. That time his restraint snapped just a bit as he finally crowded you enough before pressed you against the furs of his bed. Hands guiding you to the middle as he climbed over you as he ran his tongue along yours with nowhere now for you to go but to be at his kiss's mercy.

You moaned deeply against him, causing Jon to pull up and off you, kneeling in between your slightly spread legs for him. He wanted to control himself, but gods be good you made it so difficult. Hands grasping at your thighs as he almost closed his eyes to will his heart to calm down but you knew where his eyes black now, were staring.

Everything Jon found got better and better, and as he could see what you willingly let him look at between your legs, his cock ached. He had wanted to know what being inside you felt like for so long, he dreamt about it on his worst nights. But here, able to see too the wetness, where he'd so easily be able to slide inside you, he inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. He wanted to take care of you, not rough you up because of his own cock.

One step at a time. Looking back, he focused on your face. Nervous but desperate to hide it. Slowly he took your hands into his, putting them right at the edge of his shirt. “Just start with this.” But even though your hands curled against the fabric, you looked down to them but didn't move. Your own heart raced enough you felt a bit dizzy.

Murmuring your name, you shook your head as if you'd push forward and do it. Reaching over, he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer to press a kiss to your forehead as you whispered with a very quiet but honest vulnerability, “Could we both...”

He'd never seen you so nervous and uncomposed before. Covering your hands with his, only then had Jon noticed they were almost shaking. Steady under his warm touch, he never left your eyes as he helped you pull the fabric of his shirt up and off him. On tossing it nowhere to care as he cupped the back of your neck.

Both of you leaned in that time, and somehow as soon as your hands ran along his bare chest did Jon feel that rush of need. Pushing you down against the furs on his bed, his kiss grew demanding and greedy as you responded eagerly. One thing, only one thing was keeping you from him.

And yet, the second his covered cock ground into your bare, wet core, he felt that feeling. Kissing you rougher he tried to shove it down. Not now. Jon willed himself to not do this, he said he wasn't going to worry about this right now. The more he rutted into you, the more he bit and licked into your mouth and the more sounds you made, the more Jons cock twitched begging to be freed.

But the more he felt that, the more those thoughts returned. His own hands currently groping at your breasts, twisting and pulling at the small buds as he loved and yet his mind wouldn't stop. As soon as the thought hit him, Jon tensed in his whole body.

What if he got you pregnant?

Brows furrowed into the kiss, he tried to ignore it but his mind repeated it and repeated it, and suddenly he had stopped kissing you. Your hand gently pushing against his chest to look up at him, his name so gentle on your lips with worry. “Jon? Are you alright?” He swallowed and tried to regain his breathe, but the thought spoke again.

What if he got you pregnant?

Your hand cupped his cheek as you tried to sit up a bit. “Do you want to stop?”

No, he wanted this so badly. He had planned this for almost a month, he wanted to be ready. He had to be, you were leaving for Kings Landing soon. He never had wanted anything more then sharing himself with you, sharing both of your first times together. So he shook his head, leaning back into your sweet tasting lips, “No. No, I don't want to stop.” Pushing you back into the fur he was a little less desperate this time.

Get over it, he told himself. Just shut up and get over it.

Your body was so soft and so perfect, you fit against him like you had been made for him. Your lips were so sweet, your sounds so beautiful but then he'd think more. Everyone would hate him. They'd know it was Jon, who else would it be? A beautiful little black haired baby with your eyes but they'd all call your child a Snow and it would be his fault.

Jon wanted to share this with you, he always had. Jon wanted to bed you so badly and yet as he had you bare under him, he struggled to see past how much he'd be ruining your life. Ruining his own child's life. He could be cocky and say it's a rare chance just this once could get you pregnant, but he had no reason to think it wouldn't.

You'd return to Kings Landing and be shamed as soon as everyone found out. They'd call your child a Snow and Jon couldn't handle that. He never wanted that for whatever child he had.

Being a bastard was lonely and miserable, the only reason he could stand it was because of you, but he would be horrible and selfish to force his child to live that way all because Jon was in love with you.

Just maybe, as Jon's hand trailed up your thigh enough he could feel the heat between your legs, it was a blessing in disguise when you pulled from his lips almost in a jolting panic. Stammering with wide eyes when Jon sat up, you clearly started to panic. “I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..”

Brows furrowing, Jon gently ran hands along your hair at the back of your head cupping you gently to stay in place. “Don't be sorry, it's alright.” You shook your head trying to deny that, but Jon leaned in more gentle in his gaze and softness. “Look at me,” Finding his gaze, he could see the slight bit of nerves tinged with the fear of the unknown. “We don't have to to this. We can stop right here.”

You looked away frustrated, no doubt at yourself. “I'm sorry..” Jon went to tell you again to stop apologizing but you continued, clearly trying not to let your eyes water at how much was running through your head. “It's not you or anything..I...” Sighing out you looked back up at him, Jon letting his thumb run along your cheek. “I don't know if I'm ready..for..this part..”

He didn't say it, but in truth, Jon was relived. He couldn't do this with you, when all he was worried about was ruining everything your life could be by getting you pregnant. You and what children you had shouldn't start here, with a bastard. No matter how in love with you he was, how much he always will be.

Murmuring your name, he leaned in no run his nose along yours. “Do you want to know something?” You nodded, as your hands gently ran through his curls almost soothingly. “I don't think I'm ready either.”

It was strange to laugh at that, but you did, and so did Jon. Laughing gently into the other before he pulled you in for a much more innocent, but eager kiss. “We are a mess, aren't we?” Jon laughed a lot more freely at that, his heart growing in his chest at the giggle on your own lips before he captured the sound with a kiss. Running a hand again along your hair, you moved yours at the same time to shift the both of you.

After a little moving, Jon had you laying mostly on your side as he did facing you, his hand running now freely but without greedy intention along your bare side. Your own hands sat at his chest and collarbones, sharing just an innocent kiss for the way you both looked. Your voice was quiet, but a lot less nervous as the minutes passed between you. “You don't have to, but I was wondering..I want to wait for you..and was hoping maybe you would wait for me too?”

Jon just grinned. “I'm not here to rush you, darling. I'll always wait for you.”

You'd both have to get up eventually, but for now, Jon pulled you into his chest. Keeping your bare frame tucked into his warmth. If only for a little while, you both could spare a nap at least. Wrapped up in the others touch and safety.

As Jon kept your head tucked into his chest, he buried his face happily in your hair. Thinking to himself, that he's never wanted anything as much as he wants to just be with you.

He would take all the time in the world to wait until you both were ready, there wasn't and couldn't be a single soul in the world Jon would ever want to give himself too other then you. You were the woman he loved, you were his heart, something that made his lonely, miserable life worth it. Jon was utterly in love with you, and as long as you both had that together?

The rest would come easy, in time.

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

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danytherelentless · 7 months

Text

A Heartfelt Goodbye

Eddard Stark x fem!reader

summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children

warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)

word count: 3k

note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best

It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.

He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.

He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.

He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.

Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.

"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.

"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."

"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."

Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.

It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.

He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.

At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.

He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.

He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.

"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.

"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.

"I was worried for you," you confessed.

It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.

"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.

He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"

"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.

You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.

"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.

"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.

He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.

He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.

He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.

"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."

"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."

He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.

He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.

He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.

He part from you, breathless, "I want you."

He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.

You seem shocked for a moment.

"I want you too," you admitted.

His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.

He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.

He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.

"Wait. Why don't you join me?"

Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.

He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.

He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.

His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.

"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.

You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.

He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.

"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.

You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.

One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.

He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.

He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.

The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.

"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.

"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.

"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.

With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.

He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.

"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.

He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.

His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.

"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.

He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.

He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.

You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.

He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.

He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.

He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.

"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever for?"

He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."

"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.

"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.

"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."

"No, I do not."

"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.

"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.

"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."

He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.

"It is fine should you not feel the same--"

"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."

You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.

"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."

He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.

Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.

He wed you the same day of his return.

comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)

(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)

#ned stark x reader #ned stark x you #asoiaf x reader #got x reader #got x you #ned stark #eddard stark #got smut #asoiaf smut #smut #house stark #fluff

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asongofmarvelanddc · 11 months

Text

Duty PT 5½

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: none!

SUMMARY: Robb's Queen falls ill and he is not quite sure how to handle it.

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: This is kind of short drabble-type chapter setting up the next two! Please send a message, comment, send an ask so i can hear from you! and hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏾 (Part 6 dropping tomorrow night –UK nighttime btw 🤭)

Robb has grown used to your company in recent weeks. He was surprised the first time you came to his study for no reason other than to talk, but he came away from that evening happy to have seen and spoken with you.

Eventually, those nightly visits became more of an expectation. Sometimes you’ll have a conversation over tea and cakes and other nights he’ll share a laugh with you over supper with a belly full of ale. Occasionally you watch him work while doing needlepoint or sewing up his trousers – because he always seems to rip the seams – providing a needed distraction whenever he gets too frustrated with the contents of his letters.

It is routine. One he quite enjoys, which is why when you don’t come to his study tonight, he’s not upset, he’s worried. He thinks to ignore it and continue on with his work, but he struggles to concentrate on any of it when his mind keeps wandering back to you.

He has enough after a few minutes and rises to his feet intending to find you and determine that everything is alright. As he walks around the Great Keep, not a single person he passes can tell him where you are. His casual stroll slowly morphs into a hurried walk as he begins heading towards your chambers. That is when he runs into someone.

Elyse.

He almost doesn’t realise it is her at first, so focused on where he is going that he brushes past her. It is only at the sound of her voice when she stops to curtsey that he recognises who it is. He spins back around as he already passed her a little, cocking his head to the side.

“Elyse,” he breathes as he approaches her slowly, “How are you?”

They have not spoken in some weeks now. It is awkward between them. It has never been awkward. He suspects that she has been avoiding him, but a part of him chooses to believe that only because he has in fact been avoiding her out of guilt.

She looks up at him, a thin yet soft smile on her lips. “I am well,” she says, though her pained eyes tell a different story.

Robb has the urge to pry her for more questions. The only reason he has stayed away from her is because things can never be as they were once. Not if he intends to honour his vows to you.

He doesn’t want her to feel as though he has simply cast her aside and forgotten her. But as soon as he’s about to raise a hand to take hers, he stops himself, remembering why he is here in this corridor in the first place. He is trying to find you.

“Have you seen…?” his voice trails off before he can say your name. He doesn’t know if that would be offensive or unnecessarily hurtful.

But it doesn’t need to be said because she knows who he refers to just by the look in his eyes.

“The Queen is in her chambers. With Maester Luwin.”

That means something is wrong, and though he wants to stay and ease Elyse’s hurt, he does not have the time for it.

“Thank you, Elyse,” he lingers for a moment, knowing there are still many things unsaid between them, before making his way to your chambers.

Just as he arrives at the door, Maester Luwin steps outside, jumping when he sees Robb.

“Your Grace,” he bows as best as he can while shutting the door, " Forgive me, I was not expecting you."

Robb frowns as he glances from the closed door to Maester Luwin, “Has something happened?”

The Maester shakes his head slowly, “Her Grace has fallen ill, but–”

“Why was I not made aware?"

"It was quite sudden," he explains, then places a hand on Robb's shoulder, "But it is nothing serious, you need not worry yourself."

Mester Luwin's voice is comforting, but Robb's heart remains unsettled. You are his responsibility now, and whatever pain befalls you – illness or injury – weighs on him. That is the only reason why he is concerned.

The only reason.

He looks at Maester Luwin and asks, "What ails her?"

Maester Luwin seems unsure of whether to answer at first, but then he lowers his voice and begins to speak, "You are aware that women pass bloods once every moon's turn?"

In fact Robb did not know that it happens every moon's turn. He thought it happened once when a girl becomes a woman. Nevertheless, he nods his head as if he did know before this very moment.

"Is that what this is?"

Maester Luwin nods, “It seems Her Grace passes her moonblood with great difficulty. But her pain and discomfort should fade in the coming days.”

Robb glances at the door yet again, debating whether or not he should go in.

“She is resting now,” Maester Luwin says, practically peering into Robb’s thoughts, “You should look in on her, put your mind at ease.”

His head snaps in the maester’s direction, “My mind is already at ease.” There is a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Maester Luwin bows before taking his leave to return to the rookery.

Alone with his own thoughts, Robb considers returning to his solar to continue working. He knows now that no great harm has befallen you and you will be just fine, but his heart is still unsatisfied. With little hesitation, he twists the handle and pushes the door open.

One week after your wedding, Robb began to notice that his chambers smelled different. It almost annoyed him how quickly the room adopted your scent. It clung to everything, the sheets, the pillows – even Robb's own clothes. But over time, he came to appreciate that earthy, yet sweet smell. It gave him comfort.

That is why the first thing he notices upon entering the room is how different it smells. The aroma of medicine hangs in the air, no doubt from whatever treatment Maester Luwin has provided.

You're lying on the bed when he enters, curled up into a ball. As soon as Robb closes the door, your eyes flutter open, following him as he approaches you wordlessly.

"Your Grace," you begin in the softest voice he's ever heard from your lips, "I would curtsey or sit up, but as you can see, I am in no state for such."

"I wouldn’t ask you to," he smiles as he sits on the bed right beside you. He glances at the cup sitting on your bedside table, "What are you drinking?"

You tilt your head slightly to see what Robb is looking at before returning your gaze to him. "Maester Luwin gave me something for the pain," you say, "I don't remember what is in it."

"You are in pain?"

Robb's concern increases when you nod.

"Where is the pain?" he asks.

"Here."

Robb looks down at where your hand is cradling your stomach. His eyes snap back up to you when he hears you wince, clutching your stomach tighter. He hates to see you in such terrible pain, and it is worse knowing he can do nothing to ease it.

"Will it be like this for you after every moon's turn?"

You shake your head, "Not every time. It was not like this during the last one – that is why you did not know it was happening."

Even after seeing you and speaking with you, Robb's worry does not dissipate. There is still a pit in his stomach. It dawns on him that he is not only concerned because you are his responsibility. He wants you to recover quickly because…well, it is you.

He raises his hands to your face, stopping when he sees the startled look on your face.

"Do you mind?" he asks, hands still hovering over you. He proceeds when you nod.

Gently, he presses his palms against your cheeks. You remain completely still under his touch, your heart racing. After a moment, he moves his hand to your forehead.

"What are you doing?"

He looks down, meeting your eyes which are staring up at him, before pulling back from you, "I'm checking for a fever."

You chuckle lightly, an infectious sound, "I'm not sure fevers are common with my particular ailment."

"It is better to be sure."

You smile softly before closing your eyes, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Robb sits there, listening to your breathing and waiting for you to fall asleep.

After a few minutes, your eyes open again.

"Don't let me keep you, you ought to rest," you whisper, "Your mother has prepared the guest chamber for you."

Robb is taken aback, "The guest chamber? Why should I stay there and not here as always?"

"Because you work from dawn to dusk and I will not have you lacking sleep simply because I am ill. Besides, your mother insisted."

Robb looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. Of course his mother would be the one to insist. But still, he does not want to bring you any further discomfort anyways, so he obliges yours and his mother's wishes.

"I will be sure to look in on you again tomorrow," he promises as he rises to his feet. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he finally says, "Sleep well, Y/N."

***

The next night, Robb is not happy when he finds the tray from your supper untouched. It lies discarded on the floor beside your bed, not even a grain of rice has been moved.

You're asleep when he enters the room, and even when he sits on the bed, you remain still. There is no snoring however, which lets Robb know that you are not sleeping soundly. Your forehead is creased and even in your sleep you're clutching something to your stomach.

This illness seems to have gotten worse, which only serves to make Robb feel more guilty for not coming to see you during the day. He leans down and presses the back of his hand to your clammy forehead, then his palms to your cheeks. Just to be sure again that there is no fever.

You wake while he is in the middle of doing this, momentarily shocked to see him practically on top of you. Robb instantly draws his hands back when he hears your gasp.

"I apologise, I was only checking–"

"Robb," you sigh heavily and slowly pull yourself up into a sitting position, "There is no fever. I have told you, this will pass."

He nods even though his worry remains.

"I'm sorry that I did not come earlier."

You wave a hand and shake your head. "It is quite alright, I completely under–"

You're cut off by an intense and sharp pain in your lower stomach and back that makes you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. Too distracted by the pain, you don't even realise when Robb takes your hand at first, but once his calloused fingers clasp around your hand, you give it a tight squeeze to help the pain pass.

"Are you alright?"

Your eyes open to meet Robb's staring back into them. His brows are drawn together and he is sitting close to you on the bed, both his hands now holding yours.

"Yes," you whisper as you pull your hand out of his grasp, licking your dry lips, "I'm fine."

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he sits back, placing his hands back in his lap. You can see clearly that he is concerned about you, more than you expected him to be – likely because he does not understand what is happening.

In some way, it is comforting to know that he cares.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Robb is not a man who enjoys feeling useless. Even more so in recent years, considering all the tragedy that has befallen his family. And seeing you this way, sickly and vulnerable – the complete opposite of how he’s always seen you – is deeply unsettling.

"Distract me from the pain," you say, offering him the smallest way to make you feel better, "Tell me about your day. What has kept you so occupied?"

He doesn’t know how talking about ledgers and reports would help you, but he does so anyway.

“I spent much of the day preparing for the arrival of some men from the front.”

“Who is coming?”

“Lord Umber is bringing back some of the men we captured,” he sighs, “Our cells down there are too crowded, and some of the men are workers whose surrenders I’ve accepted.”

You raise a skeptical brow, “You trust Lannister soldiers?”

Robb is surprised – and a little amused – that you’re questioning his decision. He’s not sure he minds, however. In fact, he appreciates your taking an interest.

“I don’t,” he chuckles, “But these are men from the Brotherhood Withou–“

He’s cut off when you grab his hand to squeeze as another cramp hits. Instantly he forgets what he was talking about and gently takes both your hands. When the pain passes, you reach over to the side table and take a sip from the cup sitting there.

You notice Robb's inquisitive stare and nod to the cup, "It's the same tea from last night," you mumble, your eyes feeling heavier, "Apparently, it is a weaker dosage of milk of the poppy."

"Milk of the poppy makes you drowsy, no?"

"That explains why I have slept most of the day," you smile weakly.

Robb chuckles and strokes the back of your hand as you lean back and shut your eyes, "I should not have woken you."

"Perhaps not."

"Shall I leave?" he asks.

"No," you answer in a light voice, barely above a whisper, "Stay."

And so he does. He watches over you even after you fall asleep. It is not until your light snores begin to fill the room, a sure sign that you are in a deep slumber, that he decides to leave. He gently places your hand over your stomach and pulls the blankets up to your chest to make sure that you stay warm through the night.

Before he leaves, he can't help but watch you for a moment, listening to your slow breathing. You appear so at peace, and the sight warms his heart. In that moment, he knows that he has let go of any residual resentment he may have had towards you.

"Do feel better soon, my Lady," he whispers, "I long for our evening chats."

Special thanks to these lovely people (and all the new people hiiii!😘 Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):

@witchywrter, @satan2002, @kingniazx, @ria132love @ietss @spn-obession @hotleaf-juice @simonsbluee @shawty-writes-a-little @sarcasm-n-insomnia @harrietbarnesblog @simonsbluee @delicatelyherdreams @tiredstrangerr @xxgarden @davnwillcomee @are-y0u-sirius @dreamy-caramel @iw4milf @jessyballet @greekktragedyy @spid3rgwen @sasuke-deserved-better @lycheecreams @bport76 @itspbjellytime @forever-and-more @holysmokesblog @callmemaeverick @njadakaufey @albeeox @ethereal-concepts @lacontroller1991 @losers-club6 @pulisvertz @universeoflonelystarlight @idkjj04 @cullenswife @oscarisaacsleftknee @fandomarchiveilyd @bekky06 @random-human02 @labellapeaky @alastorhazbin @shawtybaess @larissareadings @johnmurphys-sass @millies0bsimp @bluesongbird @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @cherrywinepoison @vixemi @multitargaryen @gxlden-honey @faatxma @stargaryenx @dumbledorezz @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @vera0124 @sunsetsimpsblog @barnes70stark @hiatuswhore @vyctorya @starrstrucked @lifetimeofadventue @sweet-lilacwine @someone658379 @esposadomd

#robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb x reader #robb stark imagine #got #got imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #richard madden #got x reader #stark x reader #duty #robb stark fic #richard madden x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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starkskeep · 1 year

Text

I am my mother's savage daughter (r. stark)

I am my mother's savage daughter r. stark oneshot

Pairings - Robb Stark x witch!Reader

Word Count - 1,500 words

Warnings - Morally grey characters, mentioned non-descriptive murder, mentioned non-descriptive self-harm for the sake of magic

A/N - Here is my first request from a lovely anon. If that was you, I hope I did your request justice.

Request: Hello I was hoping if you could write a Robb stark and witch reader, she is his closest advisor and with the help of her powers she helped him get revenge for his father,he announces he is to marry her after he wins the war and thanks her for her support "I wouldn't have done it without you type of thing?

Born as the daughter of Lord Roose Bolton and a noblewoman whose name has been lost to history, there have always been shadows that leak from your very soul. As a young girl, you were sent to be a ward of Lady Catelyn Stark in Winterfell. Perhaps it was a plan of your father’s to make you the future Lady of Winterfell, yet no betrothal to Robb came from your time there. Perhaps it was to keep you away from your bastard half-brother and his inclination to harm play with small defenseless things. Or perhaps it was because your father was afraid of you. Afraid of your potential. Afraid of what you would become if you were raised in a home that could provide no love to serve as a buffer to your whims. Many would try to claim that magic has long since disappeared in the kingdoms south of the wall but your father knew better. It was the power of your mother that drew him to her. A woman of a minor noble house that would not have drawn the attention of the ambitious Roose Bolton if it weren’t for the whispers that surrounded your late mother. With his own eyes, Roose saw how your mother controlled those around her. How the branches of trees and the flames of candles instinctively bent towards her as she walked past. A flick of her dainty wrist was able to send a man to his knees. An insult by a maid resulted in a fall down the stairs ending the maid’s life. After their marriage and your birth, your mother became disenchanted with your father and his control of her so he had her killed before he could become one of her puppets. It had also helped to quell the rumors slowly spreading from Dreadfort of his wife’s powers. She was just another woman weakened and eventually stuck down but the battle of the birthing bed.

So it was you who was raised amongst the Stark children. Receiving the love of the family had helped to tamper the power swirling underneath your skin but the execution of Lord Eddard Stark, a man who had raised you to be good in a way that your own father would have never been able to, ignited a burning sensation in your veins that you were unable to quell. You would wake up with scratches all over your body and blood underneath your fingernails. The voices that had once occasionally whispered to you now roared in your ears. They sang stories of the great battles yet to come. They warned you of betrayals when trust was placed in the wrong hands. In the course of a few weeks, you became a jaded shell of yourself, wholly devoted to the Old Gods and scarcely left the sanctity of the Godswood.

Robb took you south with him, against the advice of his advisors. He could not leave you behind, just as he could not leave Theon behind. You were his friend and he knew you would prove to be an invaluable resource. He, of course, was proven correct. Roose, as one of Robb’s generals, watched as you cared for the wounded. Your remedies healed injuries and sickness far better than those concocted by others, despite using the exact same materials. Everyone praised your healing abilities as a blessing from the Gods. You treated Robb’s men and Lannister soldiers alike. Those who weren’t against the idea lauded you for your kind heart, Robb included. Roose watched as shadows slipped from underneath your tent when night fell and darkness cloaked the camp. The shadows, darker than the darkness around them, moved like snakes until they reached the beds of Lannister soldiers. The shadows would slither onto the cots and bedrolls of the enemy and smother them until the life left their eyes. There was no struggle. Healers would report the deaths in the morning as the soldiers merely having succumbed to their battlefield injuries. Roose watched as you were able to fake sympathy as you helped other healers carefully dispose of the bodies but he could see the shimmer in your eye, the same that once gleamed in his wife’s.

If others had noticed, nothing was said. You had shown how valuable you were to Robb on the night when you shared your dreams with him. Not revealing that they were dreams, you made suggestions of what you thought the Lannisters may do. Most of the time you were proven to be correct and Robb gained the respect of his men due to the brilliance of his strategies. Robb kept you beside him in all of the war council meetings, allowing you to provide input when you deemed it necessary. In the eyes of his men, you were an oddity among women; one who had a brain and was useful for things other than running a household. You were given more freedom and would use it to sneak away. Running barefoot through the forests that often surrounded the placement of the war camp. Listening to whispers of the trees as you fed your blood back to the dirt. You did not question your abilities. You did what you instinctively knew to do. Coming back to the camp, your eyes would be brighter and your steps would be lighter. All the inhabitants of the camp wrote it off as you needing a break from the pressures. You were still a woman no matter the respect you received and thus were weaker and needed more breaks than the men.

When the battles grew fiercer as Robb moved his army closer to the capital, whispers erupted of shadows helping the Northern army in their fight. Whispers spread even farther, to the Lannisters and beyond, of their men being taken down without the bite of steel even connecting with their bodies. Once again, this was brushed outside. Soldiers grow tired and delirious. Gossip grows crazier the more it is spread. King Robb is not King Stannis. He does not have a Melissandre by his side, filling his head with nonsense prophecies. He is a king fighting to avenge his father, rescue his sisters, and return to rule an independent North. You did not mind. You encouraged the rumors to grow more obscure. It kept you safe. It kept your actions from being examined too closely.

It was not until the night before Robb was to storm the Red Keep that you revealed your true nature to him. You revealed everything. Your healing, your killing, how you knew the movements of Lannister troops and what they would do in battle. Robb was shocked. He initially wanted to punish you for not telling him earlier but cooler heads prevailed and he realized that everything you had done was to aid him in his revenge, in your revenge as Ned was as much your father as he was Robb’s. So Robb listened. He listened as he did when you warned him not to agree to a Frey betrothal, to offer his uncle instead. He listened as he did when you warned him away from the pretty foreign healer. He listened as he did when you warned him to not allow Theon to sail for the support of his father’s ships and when you warned him not to accept your father’s request of sending your bastard brother to protect Winterfell. Now Robb listened even more closely as you explained what your shadows brought back to you from where you had sent them into King’s Landing, fully appreciating the weapon that the Gods had gifted him with.

You were by his side for the entirety of the siege. Riding just behind him and watching as he commanded his men to act in the way you had suggested the night before. You were standing in front of him when the Lannisters’ men shockingly turned against the royal family and its bastard king. He was beside you as he and his men watched the same Lannister soldiers then turn their swords against themselves. What was supposed to be a battle that would stain the throne room with the blood of both Lannister and Stark men ended with only lions left dead.

After his coronation as King of the Seven Kingdoms, in which you placed the crown on Robb’s head and whispers a blessing of prosperity, protection, and power from the Old Gods, Robb announced that you would be his wife and queen. No one had provided more support to him than you did and he could see no other person than you by his side for the rest of his life. You were married in the ways of the Old Gods and the magic in your veins calmed for the first time since you had marched south. The Gods were pleased. They had one of their own blessed children on the throne and they kept the realm steady as long as your blood remained on the throne.

#request #robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark oneshot

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misguidedasgardian · 2 days

Text

I need to...

Enjoy my Summer I.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You start off your summer in Dorne, with your girl best friend and your godmother

Pairings: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Sara Snow

Warnings: cursing, horny people, PDA, teasing, fears of cheating, discussion about cheating, all in good fun, might miss some warnings, you know what this is about jeje

Wordcount: 4,4 k

Notes:I can't apologise enough for the delay to this! I had most of the next chapter and nothing on this one! jeje I had a HUGE block... and eventually, I managed... but I feel like there is nothing intense on this chapter, but still... I hope you all liked this!

“Cregan! Jace! Look who we run into!”, you said excitedly into the back camera of your phone. Jace and Cregan’s mouth opened widely when they saw who you were with

“Hello, I’m Oberyn Martell and this is for these lovely ladies’ boyfriends, Jace and Cregan!”, the charismatic man said, waving at the camera

Then you and Sara show up in screen, Oberyn grabbed you both under each arm and kissed your cheeks

“You are lucky men!”, he teased. You show up giddy and giggly, hugging onto Oberyn martell

The boys’ smile wiped out immediately, sharing concerned looks

“Is Oberyn going to… fuck our girlfriends?”, asked Jace, with a traumatised look on his face

“No! No”, muttered Cregan looking at the road ahead, “I don’t think….”, they both looked ahead wide-eyed and mouth agape…“Well…”

“He is going to fuck our girlfriends isn’t he?”, asked Jace

“Alright search where is the nearest airport and how much is going to cost us the next plane ticket to the fucking watergardens…”

“We can’t leave the car in here dude!”, muttered Jace, typing on his phone, “besides is going to cost us like a thousand golden dragons and 12 hours with three different connections, by the time we get there…”

“You are right, is crazy….”, they spend the next minutes in silence, just looking at the road, “Look…”, started Cregan grabbing onto the wheel, “...he is Oberyn Martell alright? I don’t know if the girls choose to… do… him… but… if they did… I mean…”, Jace nodded nervously

“Yes we couldn’t blame them, I mean, if I encountered him, and he invited me to his hotel room, I’d go too”, Cregan nodded enthusiastically

“Yeah, right? Mee too, and I wouldn’t like my beautiful girlfriend to be mad, because… he is Oberyn Martell, right? everyone’s favourite actor/philanthropist/playboy/martial arts specialist/tv personality”

“Yeah so if they decided to… go back to his room with him…”

“We shouldn’t be mad”, said Cregan

“Right, right, if anything… we are jealous”

“Right!”, said Cregan, and they both went back to stare at the road ahead

Cregan wished he had gone with you instead of having all those boring family reunions, specially with Robb being so mean, he was forced to hang out in the kid’s table, it was a bit embarrassing, considering he was twenty

But that was done, and now, Jace and him where on his car, on their way down the routes of the North, their plan was to explore some cities as they made their way towards Harrenhal, give the girls time to join them when they finish in the Watergardens

But Cregan was so happy to receive all those exciting texts from Sara, she was having the time of her life thanks to you, and those texts from you to… made him blush as he was looking straight ahead

He wasn’t worried about you and Oberyn, not at all, but he did wish he was with you right now, having met him and together in the sun… summer… made him so horny, he didn’t even know why.

“We should be arriving in Castle Cerwin in a couple of hours”, offered Jace with a smile

Castle Cerwin was a cool town but not where the boys would like to be

But this is the decision they had made so it's the one they were sticking to, besides they were meeting some of Cregan’s friends so it was going to be a fun night in the town with all boys

Then…. Like five other towns in their way to The God’s Eye

But meanwhile

“Should I feel bad that you didn’t bring your boyfriend for me to meet?”, asked Your Godmother over her Chanel sunglasses

As Sara enjoyed the pool over an inflatable flamingo, your godmother started the third degree on you.

“No”, you said shakily, “It’s nothing like that, it's just, he had things to do with his family”

“How serious is this?”, she asked, not convinced

“I think pretty serious”, you whispered as you sunbathed by her side

“It’s a bit soon, don’t you think?”, she asked, concerned

“We thought things through”, you reassured her, “we are taking things slow”

“Are you?”, she asked, well, not really

“My therapist says he is been good for me”, you said, that seemed to content her

“And when can I meet him?”, she asked

“After this, we are all going to the God’s Eye”, you offered with an apologetic smile

“Alright, maybe next season”, she muttered, you only laughed

“It would mean a lot to me if you met him”, you said with a soft smile

“I can’t wait, my love”, she answered, “from what you have told me, he seems like a great guy, and if he is half as nice as his sister… I’m sure he is the right one for you”

“Well, is too soon to speak about forever, but that is how it feels like right now”, you whispered with a silly smile, and you found your Godmother smiling back at you

“I’m so glad you finally found someone who can… well… a decent man”, she finished, you giggled

“After this we are going to Daemon’s house, in the Island of faces”

“I’ve heard”, she teased, “without any adult supervision?”, you giggled

“No… I don’t think so…”

“Take care, alright?”, she asked, “please?”

“Of course”, you whispered

“And tell that little Cregan that if he doesn’t take care of you… I can pay someone to take care of him…”

“Godmother!”, you chided playfully

“I’m just teasing…”, she said sipping her cocktail

You spend the rest of the day in the pool, and by the end, you had an early dinner, and started sipping cocktails with Sara. Your godmother left you, and you both were alone to go to the club that was inside the resort.

You didn’t felt particularly in a party mode, and even though you were with Sara and you were having the best of times, you missed Cregan and Jace, there is some things that you’d rather do with them, like going out to a club, but you were determined to have a great time only with Sara.

The boys haden’t answered much, and you understood, they were driving, you really wished they would let you know when they arrived at their destination, but you didn't want to be pushy… or even come out as controlling

Maybe they were at a spot where they didn’t have a signal… those thick woods around the roads in the North were tricky, you really didn’t want to be concerned… it was a bit frustrating… not knowing what to say or do in this situations

You cared for Cregan and you wanted to talk to him, make sure he is good and having a good time

They barely answered to your video of Obryn Martell when you encountered him

IT WAS OBERYN MARTELL! He was everyone’s favourite actor/philanthropist/playboy/martial arts specialist/tv personality, and they barely answered!

You had to take a long breath

They were driving, haven’t even made it to Castle Cerwyn yet, probably

Your phone “dinged”, it was a text from Cregan

Just arrived at castle Cerwin to Ben’s house, everything is fine, ttyl

“That’s it?”, you asked Sara, as she was applying her lipstick, she read the text and raised an eyebrow

“Well, at least they are fine”, she said dismissively

“Nothing from Jace?”, you asked her

“I’m sure they are fine! Just tired! They had been driving all day”, she said mindlessly, and you wanted to be alright with them… lack of communication

You weren’t stuck to your phone all day either, right?

I’d love to “see” you later, videochat?

You typed, but you erased it before you hit send, you didn’t really want to be clingy.

You look at the mirror for the last time, you were looking fine, so was Sara, with simply dresses, hair loose, simple makeup, comfortable shoes

You had no expectation of the night whatsoever, only to have some Dornesy cocktails and have a real girls talk with your friend

You decided to go to a club a couple of hotels over, they say it was the most fun, you took a hotel van to the place, a method of transportation that was not going to be available later at night

The place was nice, over the beach, a nice looking bar, it was already night, so everything was lit up, outside with torches and other “tiki” looking decorations

You ordered a round of fruit-based drinks and you couldn’t stop chatting about everything you had seen and do for the last couple of days.

Sara had never travelled out of Winterfell before and she was looking at everything with wonder, it was actually refreshing, more so since you haven't been to the Watergardens before either, so it was all new to you too.

The people were nice, and very good looking, the sights were amazing, the Watergardens were some sort of an oasis in the middle of a desert, they were breathtaking

You were having the time of your life, with your godmother and your friend, and yet… you were missing someone, and you spent all day wondering what would it be like if Cregan was here with you, and Jace as well.

It was such a romantic place!

Even though you weren’t sure how comfortable you would be around Cregan wearing a bikini, but at the same time… you felt so… warm… just by thinking about it

You couldn’t wait to meet them in the lake, it was going to be such a great time!

Both your phones “dinged” at the same time, and you grabbed them together, it was a notification of a publication of Cregan and Jace, together.

You found it odd, but went to the publication

And paled

Your boyfriends had encountered the one and only…

“IS THAT…?”, You asked

“Margaery Tyrell”, muttered Sara, looking wide-eyed the photo they posted

“Impossible!”

“Well she was on a national tour!”

“Oh for the gods”

She wasn’t alone, she was with her best friend and also a singer… Jeyne Westerling

One for each

They seemed pretty cosy, judging by the background, they were in some restaurant

“Do they think they didn’t take it well that we met Oberyn Martell?”, she asked fearfully, you didn’t know what to think, what to do

Why didn’t he text you personally?

Why did he have to post it? Well, it was a collab with a friend, a friend posted it, but tagged them so, it wasn’t them, they were probably too busy just… chatting it up with two of the most gorgeous and talented women in the entire continent

“Oh gods”, Sara sighed, “should we call them?”, she asked

“No”, you said firmly, sipping on your cocktail, “we shouldn’t bother them”

“You don’t think they'll have dinner and party together, right?”, she asked fearfully

“No, no I don’t think so”, but when you better thought about it. They were two handsome, hunky, smart, kind, amazing young men and… They would be the biggest idiots if they wouldn’t

“I see concern in your face, should we be concerned?”, she asked, and then you shook your head

“They weren’t concerned about us and Oberyn, right? They are the boys!”, you said as it was obvious, “Cregan and Jace! Not any other!”, you said simply, “we took the video with Oberyn, and sent them a greeting because we knew they were fans as everyone else is, for the record, they did the same! I mean… if they saw Margaery and Jeyne and didn’t take pictures with them like… they are idiots!”, and now you were rambling

“You are rambling”, she said

You looked at your phone as if you could call Cregan with your mind, but it wasn’t working, they didn’t call you, they didn’t ask Margaery to send you a greeting.

Gods

It would be so much better if you could call him, call them, and talk, and hear how much they miss you, as much as you missed them.

“Let’s talk about something else”, Sara offered, ”they are not torturing us all day, we shouldn’t torture them”

“Yes! Yes”, you said simply, and you started talking about the plans for the remaining days.

But something was bugging you, in the back of your mind

It was probably the lack of texting from your boyfriend and best friend

And the very possibility they could be partying with the most perfect and famous person you had ever seen.

You both tried to keep your mind off of things, the place started to get crowded, and you lost your table as it was clear to set up a dance floor and now you were talking at the bar, snacking on Lys fries and still sipping on a new cocktail

Oh if you only notices how far you had moved from your cellphones in the bar

It had been a couple of hours, you had shooed away a couple of guys who were a little bit straightforward

“Want to dance?”, you asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically

“Yes! Let’s do it!”, you looked for your belonging in the bar… and nothing

“Where are our phones?”, you asked, searching frantically

“They were right here!”, she said, as scared as you were

“Dammit!”

You looked everywhere, asked all the bartenders, but nothing, someone took your phones

“We should go back to the hotel”, you said, the night a bit spoiled, you weren’t concerned, they were locked, and unlocking your phone and Sara's was impossible because of the making of the phone itself, but still…

“Yes, before it's too late to get a cab”, she muttered

. . .

“I can’t believe we met Margaery, she was so nice”, muttered Jace with a dreamlike expression on his face

“Yeah, who would have thought? Of all restaurant in the the city, that would have walked in the same one”, said Cregan

“The girls seemed oddly quiet though”, said Jace

“I didn’t send them the pic yet”, said Cregan

“Wait… Ben uploaded something”, said Jace, looking into his socials, “and Sara saw it”

“You have no more messages from her? I have nothing from (y/n)”, Spoke Cregan, now concern

“They wanted to talk but it was when we were in the HIghway entering the city and… it was messy, and we had started fighting!”, muttered Jace

“And then we barely texted them when we were greeting Ben and his ten siblings and his parents!”. Said Cregan

“We told them we couldn’t talk and then Ben uploaded a photo with Margaery Tyrell”

They shared concerned looks

“Are there any chances that they are angry… very angry… possibly contemplating calling back Oberyn Martell because they think we…”

“Yep”, answered Jace quickly

“Oh for the Gods!”, Cregan moaned, rubbing his face, “they hate us!”

“Nah, come on, they are… rational people… right?”, whined Jace, “they are not… criminally insane and go on a guy-kissing rampage only because we didn’t answer a text”

“You are right”, he said simply, “yes you are right, they are probably already in bed, and tired, you know, sunbathing is tiring, the sand like… steals your energy away, right?”

“Right! Right! Right!”

“Are you freaking out?”, asked Cregan

“No no, if anything we should be angry, they are not answering our texts… they are being childish!”

“Right!”

“Right, yes, because, what? They believe we stood a chance against Margaery and Jeyne? Like they would be remotely interested in us…?”,

“Well… they did ask us where we were staying”, said Cregan between greeted teeth

“We are so screwed”, muttered Jace, “we didn’t even tell them, meaning… they at least made Oberyn send us a greeting… right?”

“Oh gods”

“They must be so angry Cregan, I don’t want to lose Sara! I love her”

“I don’t want to loose my girl either, I love her too…”, and then, at that fundamental moment, they stopped their neurosis to look at each other

“YOU LOVE HER!?”, asked at the same time

“And we didn’t even got to tell them!”, said Cregan

“Gods”

“They must be so angry right now…”

“We will fix it, alright? Nothing happened!”, Jace tried to assure himself

. . .

“My feet hurt!”, whined Sara, and you were thinking the same thing, you were probably bleeding inside your high heel sandals

You couldn’t find a cab, of course, so you were walking back to the hotel

“Mine too”

“I want to sleep in that magnificent bed, I want to talk to my boyfriend”, she whined

“Me too”, you agreed

“Do you have your tablet? From there we can let them know our phones got stolen”

“Yes, and we need to get new ones in the morning”, you muttered, whining about your aching feet, “shouldn’t have we gotten there by now?”, you asked, looking around

“Yes, actually, the ride there was straight down the road, and then left..”, muttered Sara, “so naturally…”

“No, no it wasn't left, it was right, the side of the beach was the right”, you said

“Yes but remember the roundabout of the hotel? Makes you think that you are on the right, but it’s actually left”

‘I don’t understand”, you muttered, you looked around, and nothing looked similar, “no…”

“What?”, she asked

“We have been walking the wrong way!”, you whined

“Noooo!”

“YES!”

“DANG ITTTTT”

You were turning around, to go the other way, but suddenly… the most majestic sports car turned around the curb, and stopped right by your side

You couldn’t believe your eyes, it was actually Oberyn!

“Can’t believe my eyes! The northerner girls!”, he said, he wasn’t alone, he was accompanied by a gorgeous woman

“Hello Oberyn”, Sara greeted with the greatest smiled

“What are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be partying? Taking advantage of this beautiful city and its night life?”

“Yes we were but our phones got stolen, we couldn’t order a cab to go back to our hotel”, you said with a shy smile

“Say no more, get in”, he invited, the woman just looked at you and smiled… not kindly, but… it was nice nonetheless

You were going to say now, but if you took two more steps on those ridiculous shoes you decided to wear, you were going to cry

You shared looks with Sara and got in

“This is Ellaria… my wife”, he introduced

“WHAT!?”, you both asked at the same time, both relaxed and happy

“Nobody knows you have a wife!”, said Sara

“I know!”, he said with a big smile, she looked back at you both

“So, these are the girls you talked to me about, asking you to send a video to their boyfriends”, said for the first time Ellaria, she had this seductive, smooth voice, with the characteristic Dornish accent, and you couldn’t get over how beautiful she was

“Yeah! exactly, where did you say they are? Why aren’t they here with you!?”, he asked, almost scandalised, and he turned on his sports car and you started sliding through the streets of the Seaside resort of Sunspear… The Watergardens, “you know they do call this city… the city of love”, he giggled

“They wanted to do a roadtrip of the North, we are going to meet in the God’s Eye”, you said softly

“Oh, Riverland, nice”, he said, “I heard there is a festival there at the middle of summer, it was quite the event”

“Really?”, you asked

“Oh yeah, it was quite fun, the Lake Party, but it’s been a bore for the last couple of years”, contributed Ellaria

“Yeah, maybe we should go”, said Oberyn, Ellaria smiled

“Maybe we should”, she teased, “we can make it matter again”, they shared this significant look, like there was nothing else in this world but them, they were so in love, you could tell, they were both beautiful. It was barely a second, he was driving, but still…

You felt joy when you watched them, but… not envy or nothing like that, you…

Were watching what is what like to be with Cregan

Oh how you loved him

Wait… WHAT!?

“Here you are ladies”, he said happily, pulling the car to the hotel’s entry, it was of no surprise he knew which hotel it was, you had met at the club this morning

“Thank you so much Oberyn!”, Sara said

How could this happen? you were with one of the greatest stars of the century, and you only cared about Cregan, and how much you wished he was there with you.

“Let’s take a picture for the socials”, said Ellaria, taking a selfie with you both on the back seat and Oberyn and Ellaria smiling, “I’ll upload it, what are your users?”, she asked

You gave them your social media data, you couldn’t believe this was happening

“Thank you so much, both of you, thank you!”, you said with a grateful smile, “It would be so amazing if we meet again in the Lake!”

“So we can finally meet this boyfriends of yours”

“There must be something in the air, they met Margaery today, and Jeyne”, Sara told them, they shared concerned looks

“Really?”, and then they both looked back at you

“What?”, asked Sara

“Nothing, i’m sure it went well”, said Oberyn

“Oh come on!”, you said to him, “now i’m concerned”

“No!”, said Ellaria, sharing looks and kept repeating like a mantra, “no no no no”

“Ok you look for the picture… is under @BenTallheart999”, you commanded, she looked it up, his account was public, and saw the picture

“Oh, they are delicious!”, she adored

“Hey!”, teased Oberyn, with a big goofy smile, “You know what? let’s discuss this in the bar”

He was so chaotic and funny, you actually went to the hotel bar, you ordered drinks and snacks, and you spent two hours talking about Cregan, and Jace, and their relationship, they were actually giving you advice.

“I think you both need to downplay it, making them wait, and always be on guard”, said Ellaria, “that is how I caught this one!”, she teased pointing at Oberyn

“NOT TRUE!”, he said, “and no!”, he said pointing at you in warning, “it’s clear that these boys feel the same, jump all in!”

“NO!”, fought Ellaria, “you don’t want to give them the power”

“What if… now that we are not answering… they actually go somewhere with that pair of international stars!”, Sara said, concerned

“They will not!”, said Oberyn

“But we have barely talked since we parted ways!”, you said

“Because they are on a road trip! And you are in the pool or beach all day”, he tried to reason, “they understand, you understand, right?”

It was such a chaotic and wild night, you will definitely remember it

You went back to your room, your godmother probably asleep, in her own suit

You almost threw yourself on top of your tablet, and logged into your account

Messages started pouring in, and hundreds of requests to being followed since, of course, OBERYN MARTELL HAD TAGGED YOU ON A PHOTO

And you had several messages of Cregan

Hey love, are you alright?

Haven’t heard from you in a while”

Is everything alright?

I don’t want to sound… or actually… seen controlling but, we are getting a bit worried

Maybe you are sleeping

I miss you

The last text reached you like twenty minutes ago, so you texted back quickly

Cregan! I never meant to worry you, Sara and I went for a drink in a nearby club, and our phones got stolen!

We are back in the hotel

You won’t believe who brought us back!

Oberyn Martell again! AND HIS WIFE, it was bananas

Are you guys alright?

“Give me!”, demanded Sara, and you gave her the tablet, and she logged in her own account

“A couple of concerned messages from Jace”, she muttered

I swear nothing happened with Margaery, or Jeyne, they were great, but nothing happened

Are you angry?

Please don’t be…

I miss you terribly

Please give us a sign that you are alright

“We need to talk to them”, you said

But for tonight? You went to sleep, you were so, so tired

The very next morning, over orange juice, and a big breakfast… you both decided to call Cregan and Jace

“Hey loves!”, as soon as you saw them, you felt relieved.

“Hey girls!”

“We miss you!”, said Jace

You were placed next to Sara, and you couldn’t wait to tell them everything that had happened over the last days, they had been so chaotic

“Our phones got stolen last night!”, you said quickly

It was all fine, and you couldn’t believe you ever doubted them, they were Jace and Cregan, your boys! You only needed to talk to them, Oberyn was right…

It was all good

So… it was so good, you spent the next few days enjoying the pool, the beach, your godmother, eating in the most delicious restaurants, and having the time of your life, taking a long breath of fresh air…

Recharging your batteries after life-altering decisions you had made this year… and especially… to make you think about what you wanted, and where you wanted to go…

And who you wanted to go with you

Cregan

Sara

Jace

Your Godmother, the most important people in your life, and this trip helped you realise that, you were so, extremely happy

You wanted to enjoy those days with your godmother, she invited you here, she wanted to see you, it was mean of you to want to leave because Cregan wasn’t here, so… you were here now, and you enjoyed it to the last second.

Sara, who had never been outside of the North, was seeing everything for the first time and it was so refreshing! She was extremely grateful, and you talked to the boys everyday for an hour about everything they did that day

They were excited, they learned how to properly see a map, because they didn’t want to rely on their phones as much, they sometimes stopped to camp, yes, actually camp, set a campfire, and roast marshmallows, they say they were practising for the summer at the lake, because you were going to have a lot of that.

This was only just beginning

After chapter notes: Oberyn Martell in this universe is like… if Jackie Chan had a lovechild with Robert Downey Jr’s Tony Stark 😂

Sorry if it wasn't that exciting... perhaps I'm saving myself for the next one

TAGLIST!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm @ttkttt @aleemendoza2425-blog @drwstarkeyy @casualfansoul @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bruher @@toms-cherry-trees @happinessinthebeing @warmness0ul @jennifer0305 @missusnora @a-beaverhausen @snowtargaryen @qu44nbl4ck @juhdoche

#misguidedneed #cregan x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon

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cdragons · 2 months

Text

The Careful Fawn & The Curious Wind

Previous Part

Summary: 徐浩然 (Xú Hàorán) plops his daughter to Storm's End as he feels it is an opportunity to gain even more wealth. When 美灵 (Měilíng) first arrives, she feels disgusted by the heir of House Baratheon. However, her intrigue is slightly peaked at the sullen expressions of his younger brother.

Warning(s): MDNI 18+; Domestic Abuse; Child Abuse; Canon-Typical Misogyny, Sexism, Racism; Robert is a pig; Měilíng's dad is still the worst; the story is going to be written like those Ted Ed mythic videos

Author's Note: Please go to the masterlist to read from the beginning. Exams and ADHD are kicking my ass, and I need a distraction. Please do not repost without my permission. I did not come up with the names for the Yi Ti regions; that credit belongs to the brilliant @anya-snow. Mandarin Translations are at the bottom.

“Hàorán could not wait to return to Wan. However much gold he gained, Dorne’s blistering heat rivaled Ren’s. He missed the breezes brought by the Jade Sea. The salty air and the hustle and bustle of his home were music to his ears.

Thinking how his bastard had been instrumental in this trip, he decided to reward her by allowing her to revisit her mother. Her vigor to improve herself grew when he brought up Nan’s name. The flute she gifted Měilíng had provided much aid in their journey. He could only imagine what other gifts she would give this time.”

Hàorán was about to give orders for his ship’s captains to head off for Wan. But he was stopped by a messenger who informed the merchant that Princess Lorenza had requested his presence in the courtyard. Thinking the woman had wished to purchase more of his goods, he was shocked to hear that she wanted to send his daughter to an acquaintance’s home up north in the Stormlands.

Lorenza informed him that her good friend, the Lady Cassana of House Baratheon, wanted to host Měilíng at Storms End for a year. She was so impressed with the quality of the silks and jewels that she begged the Princess of Dorne for the new trader’s identity. When she heard that the old merchant had a young daughter around her eldest son’s age, her tender heart overflowed with pity at the idea of the girl being isolated with no children her age to play with in a strange country.

She understood that the journey between the two countries was long and tiresome. She reasoned that he was welcome to accompany her for the first few weeks to ensure his daughter’s comfort and ease. He would ensure that his precious child be well-fed and taken in good hands as Cassana only had sons and longed for the company of a girl, even one from a faraway land.

But such news could not have come at a better time for Hàorán. He became giddy with the prospect that he could become even richer by gaining the attention of one of the most noble houses in Westeros. His advisors informed him that Lord Steffon of House Baratheon at Storm’s End was close friends with the king. If all went well, he would become the wealthiest man in Yi Ti if his luck continued.

Returning to the ship, he burst into Měilíng’s quarters before ordering her to leave with her things. She was expected at Storms End with a noble family and his two sons. He ordered her handmaidens to prepare her finest garments and warned his daughter that any word of her humiliating him would result in dire punishment when she returned.

“Měilíng felt more akin to a painted peacock than a human girl. Her father had ordered this 汉服(Hànfú) weeks before they departed from Wan. The finest seamstresses in his home stitched the black-dyed-silk 袍服(Páo fú) embroidered with a red and gold dragon flying over blue and white waves. The collar dug into her neck in an attempt to choke her. She wanted so badly to loosen it, but her father would find out and may retaliate such an act with a far harsher punishment than being sent to her room without dinner. The floor-length ivory-silk pleated 裙 (Qún) skirt was so long that she had to take tiny steps to prevent her from falling flat on her face. And each step she took resulted in excruciating pain. Měilíng was most fortunate not to be forced to wear the 莲履 (Lián lǚ) shoes she’d seen so many wives and daughters of high-ranking court officials wear. Hàorán had tried to break her feet to fit the lotus shoes. Luckily, one of Elia’s handmaidens had knocked to ask for Měilíng’s company before she was to depart.

Elia had been so distraught to know that her new friend would leave her so quickly. She had wanted to bring Měilíng with her to the Water Gardens. Oberyn was also upset at his new friend leaving. He loved Sunspear, but dealing with only his parents and older brother was boring. Elia was fun, but she was always busy with her lessons. He wanted someone new to play with.

Měilíng was uncomfortable with the tears of the two young Martells. She had only recently met them but could tell they were good people. They were not cruel like her father, nor did she think they were the kind of people who would turn a blind eye like the many servants employed under Hàorán. Měilíng begrudgingly asked if she could send letters to them as a way to keep in touch.

The princess and her younger brother only blankly stared briefly before cheering and tackling the girl to the ground. The action greatly startled her, but it was better than dealing with crying and tears.

‘It was strange to have friends,’ thought Měilíng, ‘but I think I will miss them.’

The corners of her lips upwardly twitched at the memory of her new friends. Elia was so kind and bright, and Oberyn showed promise to be a great leader and warrior. The night before she and her father left, the princess demanded that she spend the night in her chambers. They laughed and played and gossiped for hours. Elia revealed that she danced with Rhaegar in King’s Landing and gushed about how handsome he looked with his silver hair, chiseled jaw, and deep violet eyes.

Měilíng wrinkled her nose at the image in her head. Targaryens left a bitter taste in her mouth. She disagreed with the idea of them being the only ones deserving to control such magnificent creatures. The idea of being forced to be bred by a brother made her sick. The water dragons that once ruled Shenlong did restrict themselves to the nobility. They chose their riders by judging their souls, and a bond of mutual respect and loyalty would be born.

Elia broke Měilíng from her thoughts by asking her an important question.

‘Do you think he liked me as much?’ she asked with bright and hopeful eyes. ‘Do you think he would like being married to me?’

Měilíng thought carefully about how to answer the young princess’s question. She was not so close to her to respond with her true thoughts. From what Elia told her, Prince Rhaegar’s only noteworthy competencies were playing the lyre and reading books. But she still did not want to lie to the kind girl.

‘I think he would be a fool to dislike you,’ she responded. ‘I think if he ever fell in love with anyone else, he must be the most delusional and stupid person who doesn’t deserve the title ‘Prince.’

The giggles and smiles Elia gifted her made Měilíng feel more confident in her answer. Elia was so sweet and wonderful. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. If the prince thought anyone else was more worthy of love was not fit to rule. This was a fact.”

Storm’s End was a fearsome structure. A massive stone tower stood alone in the center as the keep’s curtain walls surrounded it and barely met half the tower’s height. Judging by the cliff's height drop, it was a one-hundred-fifty-foot drop to sharp and jagged rocks across the beach. Měilíng shuddered at the idea of living her whole life in this place. But she was curious to learn about the keep’s history and the stories the walls held.

Riding the entrance of the giant keep made Měilíng’s knees buckle. Judging by how the waves crashed onto the rocky shore that entered her ears, the castle's name was fitting. The winds blowing through her hair were angry and fierce, nothing like the breezes in Yi Ti. The sea brought strong and chilling winds to the ports of Wan. In Shenlong, the sea blew warm and mellow breezes to the docks. Měilíng wondered what atrocities were committed for such furious howling.

Outside the doors was a man looking around half her father’s age, his wife, and two boys who seemed to be a younger copy of the grown man. The man wore a black satin tunic with gold embellishments and a cape draped across his chest and down his back. The cape was held by an ornate gold brooch that carried the Baratheon House sigil of a black stag on a gold background. He was a giant towering his wife by almost three heads, had a head full of lush black curls with gray streaks, and a thick black beard. His eyes were a clear crystal blue and shone with confidence and kindness.

His wife was a pretty woman who wore a bright turquoise-green dress with green sea turtles stitched into the frock. Her honey-orange locks were gathered in a single braid over her head, and Měilíng spied a small silver turtle pendant hanging on a simple chain. Her eyes were a warm tone of russet that shone her excitement by how wide her smile grew at the approaching carriage.

The two boys had differing heights. The taller one wore a broad smile, while the other looked like he was here against his will. It would seem that fact was something he and Měilíng had in common.

Exiting the ornate wagon, Měilíng bowed in respect to her hosts. It was a great relief that her father had not accompanied her on this trip. His distaste for his sole offspring served her well in this circumstance. When permitted to rise, she was immediately warmly greeted by the lovely woman.

“Cassana knew it was improper to give such a warm greeting to someone so below her station. But she could not help herself! She could not help but be absolutely besotted by the small child in front of her. She had never seen a YiTish person, and all the stories from the maesters in her childhood home in Greenstone proclaimed that they were short with eyes so small that it looked like they couldn’t open.

But such claims were clearly false! The girl before her was so darling! Her skin had a light and healthy tan, and no blemish was visible. Her almond-shaped eyes almost resembled a doll with how wide and innocent they looked. Her round cheeks seemed so soft, making her more adorable. Apparently, she was supposed to be around Robert’s age, but she only went as much as Stannis’ height.

Her robes were made of the same silk that Lorenza’s daughter and sons wore at the banquet, but they were dyed in black. But even with that dreadful color, she looked like a fairy! Her hair was intricately braided in a style completely unfamiliar to her. It looked like two butterfly loops stood on top while the rest of her hair fell like a dark waterfall.

Lord Steffon chuckled at his wife’s poorly contained excitement. He knew how much she longed for a daughter to dress up and play with. Their two boys were blessings, and they loved them more than anything, but their differences caused more strife than solutions. Robert was rowdy and always itching to fight. He had all the makings of a strong and fine warrior, while Stannis preferred to keep to himself with his books and learn how to fulfill his duties as the second son of House Baratheon.

Robert visibly deflated in disappointment. When Mother and Father informed him they would be expecting a guest from a faraway country, he had hoped they would be a mercenary or a pirate – not some stupid daughter of a trader with more wrinkles than an old bull’s ballsack who only knew how to wear dresses. And her face! Was it so necessary that she have such a blank expression? Why were her eyes so small? His eyes trailed down from her face, and he was further displeased. Why had her tits not developed? This was going to be a boring summer – Robert knew it. But at least he would soon be at the Vale to see Ned again.

He supposed it was amazing that a foreigner from such a savage land could speak Common Tongue. But he can’t imagine it being too difficult to learn from her likely backwater language. But her only saving grace for her looks was her dark almond-shaped eyes and glossy black hair. It made her rather exotic-looking. But that was it.

Stannis only looked at his feet. He did not share the same enthusiasm as Mother and Father for sharing their ancestral home with a foreign stranger. He wasn’t so rude to show his disappointment as vividly as Robert, but he could not deny his irritation at the sight of the girl. Had it been the merchant himself, he could have asked him the questions he had after reading the book Maester Cressen gifted him. But just looking at the blank expression on her face as she stood fully adorned in opulence, he could tell she would know nothing beyond fairy tales and silly songs meant for children. But still, as a son of the ancient House Baratheon, he would maintain his duty to show adequate propriety to his mother’s guests. He respectfully bowed his head as a sign of appreciation for her acknowledgment of the difference in status.”

Měilíng was so far unimpressed with the two boys. Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana have been most gracious hosts, and she was grateful to be so warmly received by the Lady of the Keep herself. But it was clear as day to see how their sense of decorum and graciousness was not passed down to their children.

Lady Cassana was a warm and lovely woman. Her kindness and hospitality reminded Měilíng much of Elia, the bright and excited friend from Dorne that she unexpectedly became very close to while she resided there. She shared the history of Storm’s End and how the name came from the multitude of storms of two gods angered by their mermaid daughter’s marriage to a mortal son.

The elder son, Robert, made no attempt to hide his displeasure of her. He was clearly displeased at the fact that this new girl had stolen his mother’s attention. As a result, he thought of her as ‘boring’ or ‘stupid’ based entirely on her appearance. The entire time their mother led Měilíng to her guest chambers, he loudly whispered in his brother’s ear about missing someone named ‘Ned’ and how he couldn’t wait to go down to the courtyard to spar with their swordmaster.

Měilíng was also getting impatient with her irritation. Was it really so necessary for him to be so loud? Did he really think she wanted to be here? She wanted to go home. She wanted to return to Yi Ti, to Wan, to her mother. Once more, Měilíng cursed her father. Once more, he trapped her in a cage. If she could, she would summon all the winds with her flute and let them carry her and her mother back to their simple home on the docks of Shenlong.

Stannis grew annoyed and exasperated with his brother’s behavior like their guest. Why was he trying so hard to ruin Mother’s mood? She had been excited for weeks at the confirmation of the girl’s arrival. He was no more pleased with her appearance, but he refused to sink so low to show his crossness in such an undignified manner like his brother. He would keep his thoughts to himself and accompany his mother in showing their guest her quarters for the year. Afterward, he would retreat to the library. He had wasted too much time as was.

Měilíng had almost dropped her jaw in complete shock once she entered the room meant to be hers for an entire year. It was absolutely gorgeous. Masters in their craft created the floor tiles. The mosaic in the center was made in the image of water lilies in a serene pool of blue. The swirls of green vines, the white petals' shine, and the yellow dragonflies' brightness created a beautiful picture. The balcony was facing the sea, which calmed after the storm passed. Its serenity under the bright blue sky as the sun’s golden rays twinkled on the surface was more beautiful than she could imagine.

The four-poster bed frame was made of a sturdy dark wood glossy from the stained finish. The canopy draped over the poster top was a flowy green fabric. But the mattress was the most significant difference between this bed and the one she slept in her father’s home. Back in Wan, the bed had a thick blanket over a thick slab of clay above a small oven. In the winter, the stove would be lit to heat the clay for warmth throughout the night. But this bed looked so much softer than that slab of stone. Měilíng wondered if once she laid on it for sleep, she would ever want to wake up again.

“Cassana watched with bated breath for Měilíng’s reaction. So far, the girl had yet to reveal whether she appreciated or disliked the room. She saved this room for the day she would be blessed with a daughter, but for now, it would belong to the YiTish girl who held the Princess and Princes of Dorne’s attention. When the girl turned, her dark eyes were bright in wonder and trepidation.

‘My lady,’ she began, ‘this is far too much for someone like me. I am no one so worthy of such finery. Is there no room more befitting of my station?’

‘Oh no! My dear, you needn’t worry about such things.’ Lady Cassana reassured Měilíng. ‘My husband and I are more than happy to make your stay in our home as pleasant as can be. I am unfamiliar with Yi Ti's homemaking and furnishings, but I hope it can provide you with some comfort.’

Měilíng still felt uncomfortable being permitted to stay in so much luxury as a guest. ‘My lady, I have not brought anything to repay your kindness. I will write to my father immediately to rectify this mistake. After all, it is customary for a guest to provide gifts to the household members that host them. Is there anything at all I can mention? Teas, fruits, silk?’

Stannis was mildly impressed. Not only was the girl fluent in Westerosi Common Tongue, but she also understood her place in Westeros’ society. She showed the proper mannerisms when addressing a high noblewoman following this country’s customs. At the very least, she did show gratitude for his mother’s generosity. Her politeness and offer only furthered his mother’s insistence on refusing. It would have been polite of him to offer his gratitude – to state that such actions were unnecessary. But glancing back at the strange girl silenced him immediately. Her large, dark eyes were unlike any other girl he had ever seen.

Girls liked to flock around Robert. It made sense- he was the eldest, after all. But when they met his gaze, they would either look for an escape or ignore his presence. They did not care for the opinion of Lord Steffon’s second son. It would not be him who would inherit Storm’s End. But this girl…this…strange girl from a land farther than Essos – she only stared at him. She stared at him with eyes that were so dark that they resembled onyx. But it wasn’t just her eyes. It was the way she stared. There was neither judgment nor disappointment– only curiosity. It made his cheeks burn at the attention, and he turned away to return to his quarters.

‘Strange foreign girl,’ he thought, his cheeks still burning in flushed embarrassment.

Měilíng tuned out Lady Cassana’s rambling. While she was most amiable in her position as a hostess, Měilíng just wanted to rest and be left alone for the rest of the day. The bed was looking more like a cloud with each passing minute. When she tried to look past her lady’s person to focus on a spot on the wall, she accidentally stopped to stare at the shorter son. He didn’t seem bored like his brother. He was reticent the entire time, not betraying a single one of his thoughts with his stern expression. She wondered if he would be open to playing 圍棋 (Wéiqí) with her. He certainly seemed he’d have the patience and intellect to learn it.

The nightly game she and Hàorán played after dinner before she prepared for bed was one of the few things Měilíng was grateful to her father for. The game’s objective is for each player to take more territory for their opponent by surrounding their opponent’s tiles with yours. In a game with hundreds of moves for each player, and every move is legal – the path to victory is unclear and requires that perfect balance of strategy and tactics.

You cannot study for improvement – you can only improve through experience.

Měilíng hadn’t realized that she was staring at the boy for so long. It wasn’t until he broke away and retreated wherever he felt he might find peace. His mother called out his name, ‘Stannis,’ to at least offer goodbyes to their guest. When he refused, Lady Cassana returned to Měilíng to apologize for her youngest son’s behavior. She explained that if she would like, he would properly introduce himself when they all joined together for supper. Měilíng replied that such an act was unnecessary, and she would hate to make him more uncomfortable than he was. But she reassured her lady that she took offense and was sure they would soon be friends.

She ignored the mannerless snort from the taller boy, ‘Robert,’ and retreated to bed when Lady Baratheon and her son finally left her alone. As she laid flat on her back on the feather-filled cloud, she fell into a short sleep to the scent of salty sea breeze flowing from the windows – and the image of a boy her height with somber and bright eyes, eyes so blue that it rivaled the seas of Shenlong.

‘Curious boy,’ was her final thought before she drifted off to sleep.

Winds from lands in the Far East whistled in excitement for the events and entertainment sure to come. ”

Translations: Mandarin to English with clues to history background hints

汉服(Hànfú) - they are traditional styles of clothing worn by the Han Chinese, and the basic Hànfú was developed in the Shang Dynasty (1600 BC to 1000 BC)

袍服(Páo fú) - 'robe'; typically worn as an upper garment in a Hànfú for both men and women in China during the Ming Dynasty

裙 (Qún) - 'skirt'; these are skirts used in the Hànfú ensemble

莲履 (Lián lǚ) - 'Lotus Shoes'; footwear that was worn by women in China with bound feet that was banned in 1911 since the cruel practice of bound feet required women to have their feet broken in order to fit their feet inside the shoes

圍棋 (Wéiqí) - 'Go'; 'Go' is an ancient game that originated in China over four thousand years ago and is known to be very difficult to play despite the game's simple rules (the objective is to capture more territory than the opponent by fencing off empty space)

Tagging: @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @writingsofwesteros, @a-libra-writes, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @anya-snow, @strangedragonqueen, @100pureawesomeness

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axelsagewrites · 9 months

Text

Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Wait

Pairing: f!reader x jon x robb

Summary: Robb and Jon decide to share the girl theyve both been sleeping with (part three to share and competition but can be read alone)

Word count: 3198

warnings: hard dom robb, soft dom jon, threesome, finger f!recieving, oral f!recieving, nipple play, p in v sex, anal sex with lube, praise, multiple orgasms, mouth covering (not choking), biting (only a litte) smut 18+

Masterlist Here

You never expecting that being fostered by the starks would be so interesting, but you certainly were not complaining. Jon and Robb had always been good at sharing growing up but neither boy expected to share a woman when they grew up. After their first night joining you in your chambers, they realised sharing you was better than getting none of you at all. However, it was only that first night they had shared you at one time so far.

Nearly every other night you slinked off into the corridors to find one of their chambers. Robbs were large and covered in thick grey furs and dusty blue fabrics. The fireplace never went out in his chambers. The warmth made it so much more enticing when Robb would take you as soon as you walked in the chambers, you both ending up laying on a thick fur rug in front of the fire’s hearth.

Jons chambers were plainer than Robbs, something he tried to apologise for, but it did not matter. After all, Jons had the advantage of being so far from the nobles that no one questioned the headboard banging or moans. While it was colder than Robbs chamber you used this as an excuse to slip beneath Jons furs, pressing your naked body against his for warmth and feeling his touch.

Occasionally they would visit your chambers however while they had learned how to share neither wanted to walk in on something you did not want them to see. But ever since that night they took you by either end it was all you wanted them to do without ever realising they both wanted to do it again.

Robb wasn’t sure why the idea of another mans cock being shoved down your throat turned him on especially considering how possessive he could get. All it took was for a man’s eyes to linger on you for a moment too long and Robb was grabbing your arm to escort you away.

While Robb was jealous Jon was a people pleaser to his core. Whether that be picking a flower for you on a walk and placing it in your hair, sneaking you a cake from the kitchen, or staying between your legs for so long that you forgot your own name. Jon couldn’t get the image out his mind of the mess you became from his and Robbs first night with you.

The pair had been skirting around the topic for weeks. They couldn’t help but rile each other up as they debated which one was the better match for you. This turned into casual comments about how good you looked to eventually sharing tips. All it took was one too many cups of wine after dinner for Robb to finally bring up the idea to Jon as they hid out in the stables with an extra bottle of wine. You had made fun of the pair’s hangover in the morning at breakfast not knowing what they had in store for you later that night.

The knock on your chamber door that night was surprising but not an unwelcomed one by any means. You had all developed a secret chap for these specific purposes so as you quickly climbed out of bed you wondered which northerner had trailed across the castle in the dead of night. As you unlatched the door you titled your head in confusion when you saw the pair standing at your door.

Robb didn’t wait for approval before sauntering into the room, “evening love,” he said as he sauntered over to drop into the armchair in your chambers.

Jon quickly shut the door behind him, stepping into the room before gently kissing your forehead, “i hope we didn’t disturb you,” he said before moving to stand next to where Robb sat.

“no, its fine,” you said, your eyes wearily scanning the pair who were currently exchange a look. You crossed your arms as if that gave any modesty to the thin night dress you wore, “has something happened?”

“not yet,” Robb said but before you could speak, he lent forward, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes flickered over your body for a moment, “we have a proposition love,” he said as his eyes finally met yours and you could see a hunger in them.

Your thighs pressed together, a heat already growing in your body that you tried to keep at bay. You nodded at them, waiting as the silence hung like smoke, “and what’s that?” You asked, your eyes flickering to Jon.

“you told us we need to learn how to share you love,” Jon said, glancing at the stark for reassurance, “but we’ve not been sharing you properly have we?”

“now i don’t think so,” Robb said standing from his chair, “we wanna make you feel good sweetheart, the both of us. Like we did that first night,” he said as he crossed the room to where you stood, “would you like that? Both of us fucking you,” he finally said.

You looked down for a moment, biting your lip in the way you knew drove Robb crazy before finally looking up and nodding, “yes. I’d like that,” you said, your hands moving to hold Robbs arms and stepping in closer.

Robb held your jaw, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip, “are you sure about this love?” He asked as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any doubts.

“i’m sure,” you said, already breathless, “i want this. I want you,” you glanced over your shoulder to Jon, “both of you,”

A low growl came from Robbs throat as he pulled your face to his, his lips crashing onto yours with hungry desperation. His free hand moved to squeeze your breast, while the other kept your head tilted up to close the gap. Your hands held onto his arms, trying to steady yourself in the kiss.

Your breath caught for a moment when you felt Jons soft touch, his fingers grazing up your thighs. His hands moved up your night shift, his breath fanning over your neck as his hands reached your bare hips. Jon squeezed gently, enjoying the feel for a moment before his hands slipped out from under the fabric and you felt his fingers graze your back. You shivered when you felt his hands untie the strap of your nightdress.

Robb broke the kiss, stepping back to let the fabric fall to the floor. Your chamber had grown cold in the night and the cold air make your body tingle and nipples harden at the breeze. Robb cupped your breast again, flicking his thumb over the perked bud. “just look at her,” he mumbled, his eyes devouring your body.

“so pretty,” Jon said softly, his hands moving to rest on your hips again. He pressed his chest into your bare back, moving his face to press his cheek against yours. You gasped lightly when Robb squeezed your nipples gently and moaned when he began rolling them in between his fingers. “you like that?” You could feel Jon’s chuckle move up his chest as he watched how you reacted.

You nodded quickly, eyes closing for a moment, before Robb pinched down more harshly, “he asked a question love,” Robb said.

“y-yes,” you stuttered out, eyes opening to be met with Robbs.

“good girl,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as you felt Jons hands slip forward from your hips to the tops of your thighs, “don’t you wanna be good for us?” Robb asked as Jon ran his fingers teasingly close to where you needed them.

“i-i do yes,” you said but it was more of a whine that made both boy’s chuckle.

Your breathing faltered when Jons finger ran up your slit, “already so wet for us,” Jon said, kissing the crook of your neck, “such a pretty sight,” Jon mumbled against your skin as his fingers toyed with you, edging closer to your bundle of nerves.

Jon ignored the pleases falling out under your breath as he continued to toy with you for a few moments longer before you finally felt his fingers teasing your hole. While Jon tortured you Robb moved to leave soft kisses along your collarbones, moving slowly down. It was as if both of them wanted you to work for this.

You moaned lightly when you felt Jon slowly push in two fingers. He kissed your shoulder as he began to curl them gently inside you, fucking you slowly with his digits, “that’s my girl,” you felt his lips mumble against your skin.

Your hands moved to Robbs hair, using his curls for grips as you leant against Jons body. Your grip tightened when Robb suddenly took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently at first before he began to graze it with his teeth. Both northerners worked in sync causing a knot to bubble in your stomach but before it could burst Robb suddenly dropped your sensitive buds making you whine loudly, not caring how desperate you seemed.

Robb ignored your pleas, looking to Jon before nodding. You looked at Robb confused as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to rest on your hips. When Jons fingers slowed, slipping out of you, you whined once more, desperate for their touch. “shh,” Jon whispered in your ear, “good things come to those who wait,”

Before you could protest or whine again you gasped when Robb suddenly licked a stripe up your wet cunt. Your hand shot out to hold his hair, but Robb looked up with a final smirk before diving back in as if he was a man starved.

You could already feel your legs going weak as you felt your body ready itself again. Jon was the only reason you had not fallen to the floor but when his hands moved to cup your breasts you gasped as he began to squeeze your sensitive buds. Your grip tightened in Robbs hair as his tongue dove in and out of you with a wolfish hunger. His hands tightened on your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin unlike Jons usual soft touches. It did not take long before you felt your body tightening, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Jons hands moved to turn your head to the side, capturing your lips in a messy kiss to try silence the moans. Robb however did not stop his movements till you rode out every last second of pleasure he could give you. “you’re doing so good,” Jon whispered in your ear before kissing bellow it while his arms wrapped around you.

Robb placed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before standing up, his hand caressing your face, “such a good girl for us,” he murmured before kissing your lips softly but only for a moment, “why don’t you go kneel on the bed sweetheart,” Robb said it like a question, but you knew there was only one answer.

You quickly moved, no longer worried about either man seeing you naked, to kneel on the soft sheets, hands in your lap as you watched them whisper to each other. They kept glancing over you as you spoke, and you could feel the excitement bubbling inside you. All the things they could do, positions to try, your mind rushed and was only drawn back when you looked up to see Robb stripping off his shirt.

“aww look how excited she looks,” Robb cooed, almost mocking as Jon rolled his eyes and began to pull his own clothes off. Between their bare chests and Robbs words you could feel yourself flush, “she’s so pretty when she’s embarrassed,” he said which only made your cheeks heat more.

“she’s always pretty,” Jon said as he pushed past the starkling, who had moved on to undo his trousers, and headed towards the bed. Taking your face gently in his hand, Jon gazed down at you, leaning in for a soft and slow kiss. Your hands moved up his chest, enjoying his skin under your touch before tangling your hands in his long soft hair, tugging on it gently.

When Jon pulled back your head was in a daze that was only snapped back when Jon stepped back, and Robb stepped up to the bed. Your eyes scanned his bare frame, appreciating how each muscle and bone looked on his body, especially the one you had been craving since he walked in. Robb let you have your stares for a moment before lifting your chin with his finger, “you ready for us pet?” He asked, softness in his eyes.

“yes,” you managed to say as Jon walked back over who had also discarded his trousers and a small bottle in his hand that he passed to Robb without letting you see. As he did this you took a moment to compare the men. Neither one was lacking with Robbs being on the thinner side but long and Jons length being fairly average but with a good girth to his member. Besides both of them knew how to use it.

Neither man was bothered by your stares, even letting themselves chuckle at your awe-struck eyes. They nodded at each other before taking their positions, Robb kneeling behind you and Jon in front. You couldn’t help giving Jon a questioning look, this was different than last time, but Jon just kissed you softly to reassure you.

As your lips tangled with his you could feel Robb squeezing your ass softly, running his hand over the skin before pulling away. Only a moment later though you gasped when you felt his cold finger running over your asshole. “relax love,” Robb said, kissing the back of your neck. “just like before yeah?” He said as his finger slowly ran over your hole, spreading a cold liquid over it.

It wasn’t the first time you and Robb had experimented with anal btu you couldn’t help but blush with Jon watching you. “its okay love you don’t have to,” the snow reassured you, his hand stroking your cheek.

“i want to,” you said, knowing the embarrassment would fade as soon as you had a cock in you.

You felt Robb move away for a second before you felt the tip of his cock running over your ass, moving down to your hole. “deep breaths love,” Robb said, kissing your neck again as his tip lined up with your hole, pushing in slowly to test the waters, his spare hand holding your hip.

“that’s it loves,” Robb grunted as he pushed his cock in deeper, stretching you perfectly. Your head fell into the crook of Jons neck, your hands holding his shoulders to keep steady as you felt Robb easing in. “fuck you take me so well,” Robb groaned when he finally sunk all the way in.

Jon pulled your head off his shoulder, turning you to kiss him slowly as you adjusted to Robbs size. Slowly Robb began to move, pumping into you slowly at first as you adjusted to the fullness. But you wanted more, you needed Jon. “need you,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching down to hold Jons cock in your hand, pumping it slowly.

“fuck,” Jon groaned, letting himself enjoy the feeling for a moment before pulling your hand off. Despite feeling so full of Robb you knew you wanted more. Jon shuffled closer slightly, holding his cock and running his tip up and down your folds, making you whine when he rubbed against your clit.

Jon glanced at Robb for a moment before finally looking back at you as Robb paused his moves. Jon lined up with your entrancing, pushing in almost painfully slow. Your head fell back to rest on Robbs shoulder, whining as Jon finally sunk all the way into you. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking, feeling fuller than ever before. “eager i see,” Robb chuckled.

“let’s give her what she wants then,” Jon said, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him. Before you could speak Robb grabbed your hips, his thrusts starting again but this time faster and joined by Jons own thrusts. You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers as they fucked you in both holes, their thrusting almost perfectly synced.

Your head fell on Jons shoulder, biting down onto it to try muffle the sounds but to little avail. Jons hand wrapped into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and hungry and despite Jons trying did little to stop the noises you were making.

You heard Robb growl before you felt yourself being ripped from Jons kiss and pulled back to rest on Robbs chest, his hand moving to cover your mouth. You heard Jon cursing under his breath, this new angle letting him see more of your frame as he tried too not cum right there. His hand slipped between your bodies and your body felt on fire when he began to rub sloppy circles onto your bundle of nerves.

You felt your whole body tighten, threatening to break from the fullness and pleasure. The orgasm hit you like a brick and your teeth sunk into Robbs hand, trying to stop the whiny moans as you crashed. While neither man stopped Jon was struggling not to cum as your cunt began to squeeze around his cock. When you finally opened your eyes, you looked at Jon who looked close to blowing. With your mouth still covered by Robbs hand all you could do was nod at Jon.

Jons pace quickened, his thrusts messy and desperate before you finally saw his eyes clamp shut and felt his seed spilling into you. Jon cursed as he rode out his own orgasm before pulling out. “move snow,” Robb grunted through gritted teeth.

He did as he was told, quickly moving to sit on the other side of the bed to catch his breath. Before you could question Robb, his hand moved from your mouth to your shoulder before pushing you down. You barely had time to catch yourself, now on your knees with you ass in the air and being fucked by Robb stark. It only took Robb a few more moments before he also couldn’t contain himself, spilling into your ass as he grabbed your hips for dear life. “oh gods-fuck,” the stark man almost yelled as he finally got his release.

Robb wrapped an arm under your hips to keep you up as he pulled out of you before gently laying you down, “sorry if i got out of control love,” Robb said, a nervous tinge in his voice as he laid down next to you.

You rolled over and curled into his side after noticing Jon had moved from the bed to grabbed something from your vanity, “don’t apologise,” you mumbled into his chest. You looked up as Jon returned with a rag and water jug to help clean you up and try rehydrating after all of that. As you looked between the men you knew this night would defiantly not be a one off.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics @echos-muses

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targaryenluvs · 1 year

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the last one standing

pairings: robb stark x fem!targaryen!reader, aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

summary: the one where you’re set to marry your younger brother, aemond. and the night beforehand you run away, a last moment of freedom before you’re life is gone. but end up in a not-so foreign land where you discover the ending of the House of the Dragon. and maybe fall in love along the way.

warnings: none

a/n: i literally cleaned out my drafts and found the part two of this, just uploaded!!

The fifth moon. The wedding was set in stone and the prospect of marriage loomed over your head everywhere you went. The small folk congratulated you wherever you went. You were known for your own kind nature, connecting with the people of Kings Landing whenever the opportunity showed.

“Y/n the Kind”, or “The Diamond of the Realm”, these were two of many names you’d taken under your wing. When word of your marriage reached the ears of the people of Westeros many people decreed it unlawful, per usual, but most were entirely shocked. Why would such a sweet hearted girl be wed to a cold-hearted man?

Since your early years you managed to gather plenty of suitors. Most started enthralled with the idea of courting, (and eventually marrying) The Diamond of The Realm, but most actually ended up befriended by you. As you liked to point out to your mother as many a chance as you received, “These men come along seeking a wife in me, most end up leaving with a trusted friend. I do not know how exactly, but I suppose my kind nature is so sweet they see me as a confidante, a sister.” Which your mother was not happy to hear, but never questioned you. “Well you wouldn’t exactly scare them away as Rhaenyra tried in her years. Perhaps we need to find someone more durable, strong-headed.”

And that person just so happened to take shape in your younger brother; Aemond.

As children you got along quite well. Helaena and Aegon were always to be set together, as were the two of you; but you were always opposed to the idea. You were 4 years his senior, and had offered the idea of yourself and your twin brother’s marriage. But deep down you knew you wished for anything but, as did Aegon. You weren’t particularly close as children to anyone of your three brothers. Helaena had common interest with you, but you always were closer with Rhanyra’s children, Jace and Luke.

Your relationship was fine, until Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the fight of Prince and Princesses, as you had dubbed it. You had defended Luke’s actions in front of everyone claiming self defence, Alicent was confused, Aegon amused and Aemond disheartened. Was he that annoying? His own sister, nay intended, finds their bastard cousins more so family then himself?

Afterwards you never really interacted with Aemond, he kept to himself, grew and grew, trained and became a man. A Prince. Whilst you learned and taught, drunk your feelings for a period of time with Aegon and drowned in suitors.

As you gazed into the starry night above, you pondered the question which had been running rampant the past few days, would your dear half-sister Nyra and your uncle Daemon, or “Dae” as you said, take you in? Risk a war to keep you from a miserable existence, chained to a child bed, pumping heirs by the second?

You knew they would. As much as they despised the blacks you always felt as if you were one of them. But you could never risk their lives in such reckless ways. You could hear your mother and septa screaming in your head, “How dare you ponder over such treacherous thoughts?” “This is your duty!” “The birthing bed is our battlefield.” Which you had heard from the Queen, although you had heard similar from Nyra.

You needed to clear your head, you figured.

After half an hour of persuading Ser Criston Cole, who was coming to check on you, that is.

Your Nyraxes was asleep, but as you approached her head lifted off the ground, her scales painted a breathtaking dark violet, with dark blue and silver streaks like Dreamfyre. The pair got a long well, you and Helaena always flew together. With the violet came gorgeous amber eyes. She grew incredibly quickly, half of Vhagar’s size at the mere age of 20.

Your siblings always mounted their dragons with saddles, they treated their dragons as that, just dragons. You and Helaena cared for your girls as if they were your children.

You carefully mounted Nyraxes and set off for anywhere but the Red Keep. As you flew with no particular destination in mind you viewed a circular stone arrangement in a valley below. You’d been riding for thirty minutes or so and decided to dive down for a break before returning to your chambers.

Once you landed you soothed Nyraxes, “Gīda ñuha riña, gīda. Ēdrugon lo ao jaelagon ñuha jorrāelagon.”

Calm my girl, calm. Sleep if you wish my love.

The sight was a marvel, these stone statues in the middle were solid, they did not budge in the slightest. Upon gazing the sculptures and stone you felt yourself grow weary, but not before you stumbled across an ornate mirror.

What you didn’t realise was that this mirror was the origin of your tiredness. You felt waves of calm wash over as you slowly drifted into the sleeping realm.

The birds you would normally hear in Kings Landing were distant, in the back of your mind. What you did hear was a howling, or was it barking?

“Lady what is it?” Sansa spoke as she chased after her dear Lady. Robb reprimanded her, “Sansa slow down, you’re legs will fall off. And if you return home injured mother will have my head.”

(I’m so sorry for that 😭)

“Yes, I am being careful father.” Sansa mocked. “You think you’re being funny do you? I can make people laugh too Sansa.” Robb teased as he ran after his younger sister, only to look up and find nothing. Not his sister nor her direwolf.

Robb’s brows creased and confused, as was the rest of him. Soon worry triumphed his emotions, “Sansa? Sansa, this is not fun to joke of. Sansa!” He rushed forwards to be face to face with a violet scales dragon, flaring its nostrils whilst its tail wrapped around the shivering body of his mother.

“I thought dragons were supposedly extinct!” Sansa whispered to her brother, careful of her movements since she wasn’t exactly in the mood to get burnt to a crisp. “They most definitely are.” “Then tell me what in the hell is infront of us Robb.”

At the sound of voices your eyes opened, as a wave of cold air smacked you upfront. As you turned you were met with two people, staring directly at you, then Nyraxes, then you, then Nyraxes. The loop continued until you questioned them.

“Who are you?”

“Robb Stark of Winterfell, Eldest son to Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, this is my younger sister, Lady Sansa Stark. And you?” He questioned as he straightened his posture in an attempt of courage infront of the woman and the dragon, mostly the dragon.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I’m afraid not my Lady.” Robb spoke as he extended his arm out, infront of his sister as a barrier between herself and the dragon.

“Princess Y/n of House Targaryen, your princess, The Diamond of the Realm.”

“Targaryen?”

“That is what I said is it not? Who are you imposters I’ve never heard of Eddard nor Catelyn or the two of you. Where is Cregan Stark?”

“Cregan Stark, my princess, is my ancestor. From many moons ago.”

You looked at him as if he had just slapped you, “How-How many moons would you say?”

“It’s hard to say, people can’t exactly make out an exact year for his death. But I would say perhaps one hundred thirty to fifty. Although I am not the most reliable source Princess.”

You couldn’t hear anything around you.

It’s not possible. How could your life have been so very long ago? Were you still dreaming? Was this a cruel joke Aegon decided to organise for his amusement? Did you die- no. Not possible.

Your surroundings were changing, more so spinning.

“I think she’s awake now. Robb! Jon! Come quick!” The voice was definitely loud, as if you could hear it bouncing off the walls. A young girl perhaps? You heard fast footsteps against the harsh floor, fading away as slower, more intimidating steps made their way towards the room you had been allocated.

You were still so cold. You felt horrible for feeling bad for yourself when Nyraxes was probably freezing!

Nyra. Was she safe? Had she flown to warmer places and was soon to return? Or had she been taken prisoner somehow?

The anxiety and worry had you shooting up out of bed just at the thought of Nyra being in pain, or worse.

“Feeling all right there Princess?”

You looked to the door and saw the same man from before, Robb.

His name was Robb.

As you finally looked at him. His light brown beard, fair skin, divine eyes staring straight at you, his hair looked so very soft. He leaned against the doorway with a smirk on his face as you realised you had been staring, his nickname for you hot on the tip of his tongue.

“Princess? You there? Or do you need more time to stare at me? Because I do not mind it all.” He grinned whilst making his way to you.

#robb stark x reader #game of thrones #house targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 8 months

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Between a Wolf and a Hound II

Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x Baratheon!Reader

Summary: The new Lady of the North tries to cope with the fact that she is now married and has a responsibility to her husband.

Warnings: Full disclosure I wrote this in sections over the course of like two months so it's a bit jumbled. POV will randomly switch from first to third and back to first with no clear indication (sorry).

Real Warnings: Arranged marriage, cursing, angst, fighting, smut, public consummation, non/dubcon (didn't enter marriage willingly, therefore consummation is not consensual esp with witnesses)

Word Count: 4.4K

Part I | Masterlist

Rounding a corner that went towards the stables I found the large stature of Sandor walking away from me. “Sandor,” I called softly. I had already been ready to burst but upon seeing his pained expression I burst into tears as I approached. “Sandor,” I cried again as I reached him.

He pulled me into his body as I began to cry. Eventually scooping up my legs as he sat down so I was set in his lap. I buried my face into his beard as I continued to cry. “I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, little one? I know you didn’t choose that.”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the room.”

“It’s okay, takes a lot more than that to break me,” Sandor said, hiding the fact that he was on his way to drink himself to sleep. Both because of what he had seen and to cope with the fact that he’d never see her again after tomorrow.

“It hurt,” I cried.

Sandor reached his hand between my legs, just gently grazing me. He pulled his hand back and in the dim lighting of the hall he could see blood coating his fingers. “I know it did,” he said softly, remembering her cries for Robb to stop. “But it’ll get better when you’re not in front of an audience.”

“I don’t want it to get better, I just want you.”

“I know, me too,” Sandor sympathized. As he held her, the princess’s head tucked under his chin, he mustered up the strength to say the next words. “But you’re going to learn to be happy like Cat Stark did. You’re gonna fall in love with him, have his children, and be the highborn you are. Now, I’m gonna take you to your husband and say you got lost because if anyone catches me with you in this state, only my head will make it to King’s Landing.”

“No,” I pleaded, realizing the finality of his words. “Please I can never love him like you.”

“Try to, little one. For my sake, try to,” he said before gently pushing me off his lap. As he stood up, he pulled me up from the floor. Once I was steady on my feet, Sandor leaned down and kissed me. Our last kiss. I savored it, memorizing how he felt and tasted. When he pulled away, he lingered a little. His large fingers gently brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his hands still gently grasping my face. He stepped away from me with a sigh, heading down the hall.

I walked with him, silently. I kept my gaze focused on the floor, too devastated to act like the Lady of the North I was supposed to now be. When we reached my new chambers, Sandor knocked for me. Robb opened the door, still wearing only his pants. “Your bride got lost,” was all Sandor said.

Robb nodded. “Thank you, for bringing her here,” he said, stepping aside for me to enter.

I held myself tightly as I walked across the threshold into Robb’s room. “Take care of her,” I faintly heard Sandor.

“I will,” came Robb’s reply before the door shut. I observed the room, it was warm looking despite the cold. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, the stone floors covered by rugs, both woven and made from animal skins. Several candles and torches lit the room, giving it a warm glow and the bed was made, several warm furs piled upon it. A maid came out of a room connected to Robb’s immediately exiting into the hall without a word. “I figured you’d enjoy a warm bath, after tonight,” he mumbled the last part, almost as if in shame.

“That is kind, thank you,” I said, heading into the en-suite. My husband followed after me, stopping at the door as I stood by the tub.

“Take as long as you like,” he said before stepping back, shutting the door and leaving me alone.

I quickly disrobed, eager to be warm again as I slipped into the bath. I soaked into the warmth for a long time. I don’t know how long but long enough for Robb to come looking for me. I only snapped to attention when I heard him call my name. Looking over, I found him standing beside the tub. “Are you alright? I called for you several times.”

“Uh- yes,” I answered. “I was just uh thinking, I suppose.”

He nodded solemnly before kneeling beside me. “Look, I am aware you didn’t want this marriage and I’m sorry about the bedding ceremony. But I promise to be a good husband and I won’t force myself on you. I have a sense that you may be in love with someone else?” I just looked down into the water, my hands crossed over my bent knees. Robb’s gaze followed, reaching his hand into the water to grasp mine. “This water is freezing, little doe,” he suddenly gasped.

I once again brought my attention to the world, realizing I was in fact cold. Robb dropped my hands, going over to where the servant had left a towel. He brought it over, wrapping it around me as I stepped out of the tub. Quickly urging me out of the washroom, he sat me down on a fur rug next to the fireplace. He stood beside me, hovering, as if unsure what to do. “Yes,” I spoke, answering his question from earlier. “It is true, I’ve spent the last year loving another man but he’s gone now. And I have every intention of making our marriage a happy one, of hopefully growing to love each other one day. I see how your parents interact, I want the same for us. For my worst nightmare would be ending up like my own parents. I will just need some time.”

Robb grabbed a fur blanket from hi— our bed. He kneeled before me, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Of course,” he agreed.

The next morning I woke up alone in Robb’s bed, wrapped in both the towel and several blankets. Surveying the room, my trunk laid beside the door. Leaving the warm bed, I went over, pulling out one of the many warm dresses that had been packed for me. Before leaving the chambers, I went to the window, hoping to see the view I’d have for the rest of my life. It was just like any view in Winterfell, grey skies and miles of pine trees. But this window faced down into the courtyard as well where I could see three figures practicing with their swords. I recognized them as Robb, his brother Jon Snow, and Theon Greyjoy whom had been hanging around Robb at the feasts. Several of my father’s men stood around, watching them spar, a few occasionally joining in. Surrounding them were the bustling movements of servants packing up my family’s belongings as well as Lord Stark’s as he would be the new Hand of the King.

I stepped away from the window with a sigh before heading out, intending to find my mother and some breakfast. In one of the smaller dining halls, I stumbled upon Lady Stark and her daughter Sansa. “My apologies,” I said as I interrupted their conversation.

“No need to apologize, I was hoping to see you,” my new mother-in-law smiled. “Please, eat,” she said, gesturing to an empty seat.

“Well then forgive me for holding you,” I apologized, taking a seat. A servant immediately placed a plate and silverware for me. “I don’t normally wake up so late.”

“Once again, no need to apologize,” she smiled. “Robb and I both told the servants not to disturb you. You had a demanding night.” I smiled shyly as I grabbed a pastry from the center of the table.

“Is King’s Landing as dirty as they say it is?” my sister-in-law suddenly asked.

I smiled at her question. “The city is quite dirty, and loud. But as long as you don’t wander too far out of the Red Keep, you will be perfectly fine. And should you ever venture out into the city, bring a guard or two. If not for your protection but to make your day less overwhelming. The merchants descend like vultures when they see nobles.”

“Do you miss it?”

I pondered for a second. “In some ways, yes,” I miss Sandor, “I’ll miss the warmth. In some ways, no, I like that it’s quiet here.”

Sansa hummed before looking to her mother. “May I be excused? I have to ensure everything has been packed.”

Lady Stark looked at her daughter sadly before agreeing. As Sansa left, I spoke up. “It must be hard, first little Bran and now your husband and daughters are leaving? Not to mention you had already been forced to leave your family when you married Lord Stark.”

She shrugged solemnly. “It is my duty,” was all she said. “I’m sure your mother is pained to leave you here.”

“Between us,” I began, already finding more comfort in Catelyn Stark than I ever had in my mother, “I don’t think so. She’s always favored her fairer haired children. I was looking forward to joining your family, it’s a shame they’re all leaving so soon.”

“Yes, well, it gets easier as you start a family of your own.” I just hummed, unsure if I was ready for that or not. “Ned told me last night was a little rough on you, I’m sorry you had to endure a public bedding ceremony.”

I tried to not let my mortification show. “Yes, well, afterwards Robb was apologetic. I understand he didn’t intend to harm me, I know he is an honorable man. You raised a good son, Lady Stark.”

She smiles graciously. “Thank you, and please, call me Cat. How are you finding the North?”

“You certainly have quite the culture. The people here are all so… overwhelmingly loyal to each other. And I am not of here.”

“Yes, harsh winters do that to a community. I can’t help but feel like an outsider here too. Ned always tells me that I am of the North now, I’m sure Robb will tell you the same.”

Just then, a servant entered. “The Queen requests her highness in her chambers.” I gave Cat one last grateful look before following after the servant. As I approached Cersei’s temporary chambers, I could see the door was already open as servants carried her belongings out. But as I entered, each one left, the last shutting the door behind her.

“Mother?” I called as she stood, staring out the window.

“I heard you bled last night?” was all she said, not bothering to turn to me.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Good,” she said. She finally turned. “We’ll be off within the hour, I trust you know how to behave like the Lady you now are?” She said Lady with disgust. She had gone from Lady Lannister to Queen Baratheon while her daughter went from Princess Baratheon to Lady Stark, an incredible dishonor in her eyes. She was angry at Robert for doing that to her.

“Yes.”

“Good, try not to cry the next time your husband beds you,” she sniped with a dismissive wave. I felt tears prick my eyes as I turned, leaving her chambers.

I made my way outside, finding the youngest Stark daughter swinging around a small sword in a deserted area. Upon seeing me, she stepped back in fright, dropping the sword. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she immediately begged.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. A woman with a sword is a powerful thing.”

“It is?”

I smiled down at the young girl. I prayed Cersei never got her hands hand on girl. “Women have brains, men have brawn. And men are terrified when women have both.”

“And what about men? Can they have both?”

“I’ve never heard of a man with much of a brain,” I laughed. “If I were you, I’d hide the sword before your mother comes looking for you to say her goodbyes.” Arya nodded, running off eagerly.

I continued on, finding myself amongst the men I had viewed from the window earlier. They parted as they noticed me, allowing me to obtain a view of my husband as he sparred with a guard. Spying Jon Snow I approached. “Your brother is quite the swordsmen,” I announced my presence.

He gave a slight bow, “Your Highness.”

I just waved a dismissive hand. “No need for titles with family. Besides, I’m no longer a princess, just a lady now,” I beamed. While my mother saw this change of title as humiliating, I was relieved to be released from that life.

“Well if you think Robb is impressive, you should see me fight,” Jon laughed.

Neither of us noticed the man approaching us. “Exaggerating your skills to my wife, aren’t we now?” Robb asked rhetorically.

“Well it’s not exaggerating if it’s true,” Jon laughed.

Robb just shook his head dismissively. “Ignore him, little doe. He’s known for his over-embellishments. I apologize for not being there when you woke. I had some things to attend to and some of your father’s men were getting a bit bold. Had to show these Southerners real, Northern toughness.”

“It’s quite all right, I don’t generally wake up that late.”

He looked at me sympathetically. “You had a strenuous night, physically and emotionally. It’s only natural you wake up a bit later.”

“I had breakfast with your mother. A lovely woman, really.”

“Yes, she is very kind. I hope you’re finding Winterfell to your liking so far. It will be much quieter by this evening.”

“Yes, I’m enjoying the quiet so far. King’s Landing is far louder in comparison.”

“Well I’m glad,” he smiled.

“Oi, Stark!” a voice shouted from across the field. “Are you gonna keep flirting with the girl or are you gonna fight like a man?”

“Go,” I said with a laugh. “Prove your worth.” Robb smiled once again, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek before heading towards the new guard. Glancing around, I found the large stature of Sandor. I felt physically ill at the thought of him seeing my exchange with Robb. Roles reversed, my heart would shatter if I had to watch another woman kiss him or make love to him like last night.

I slipped back into the crowd, trying to covertly maneuver my way to him. Upon reaching him, I gently brushed my fingers against his arm. But he didn’t look at me, keeping his gaze on the sparring match ahead. “Sandor…”

“I trust your husband is treating you well?” he asked, his gaze unwavering.

“Uh-yes, Lord Stark is a very decent man.”

“Good, or else I’d have to cut off his head within his own walls.” I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. “I should’ve done it when you were begging him to stop fucking you.”

“Sandor-”

“I hope he treats you well, little one, I really do. But I don’t particularly enjoy seeing him put his hands on what’s mine.”

I sighed. “Well for what it’s worth, I’ll always be yours.” He just grunted in acknowledgement, still never looking at me as I walked away, dejected.

“Would you like to go lie down? Eat something?” I asked Cat gingerly. Ever since the maester had mentioned a small fever she had thrown everyone else out of Bran’s room so Robb asked me to go in as a last resort. “I’ll watch Bran, he’ll be in good hands.” She didn’t say anything. “It won’t be for long. Don’t wrack yourself with more anxiety, you should walk it off. I’ve nursed my brothers and plenty of soldiers back to health. I will send someone to fetch you should the slightest thing happen.” Cat stared at her son longingly before bursting into tears.

“I need him to be okay,” she sobbed repeatedly.

“But you are not okay. Worrying yourself sick without a release will do Bran no good. What will he do if he wakes up and his mother is too exhausted to hold him?” She continued to cry but this time she stood up, exiting the room. A guard outside met her, bringing her to her chambers. So I settled in her seat, observing the younger Stark boy.

A few minutes passed and Robb came in. “I was told you had managed to get my mother to rest. I am very impressed,” he praised. He went to the window, opening the shutters. The howling of the wolves, crying for their masters, filtered in the window.

“Don’t be so hard on your mother. First her son falls to what should be his death and then her husband and daughters leave.”

“I know but…” he suddenly became quiet. “Fire! You stay here, I’ll come back,” he shouted before running off.

Taken aback, I stood up, heading to the window. Amongst the darkness was a small, glowing blaze alight on a small structure. Turning my gaze away, I found a hooded figure standing behind me, in front of Bran’s bed. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said. “No one’s supposed to be here.” Utterly confused and unnerved I barely had time to react as he pulled out a knife, stepping towards me. But by the time I had come to my senses he had me pressed against the wall, knife poised to slit my throat. I heard myself yell, my hands reaching up to block the blade. One was immediately sliced open but the other caught where his hand was wrapped around the blade and I managed to push his hand away enough to give me room to move. I shoved him backwards but he took me with him, throwing my body to the ground. But before he could finish anything a blur of brown and grey pounced on top of him, tearing at his throat.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the dire wolf as he settled on the bed, next to his master.

“Lady Stark I heard…” came the breathless voice of a guard as he observed the carnage in the room. Another guard ran in, having a similar reaction to the carnage. “Get Lord Stark,” the first ordered. The second complied, running off. “You’re hurt, my Lady.”

“I am alright,” I dismissed. I couldn’t help but think that Sandor would be proud of me for fighting back and keeping myself alive. He had been the one that taught me how to fight. Standing up, I went over to Bran, checking him. Careful to not smear my blood on him with my injured hand.

Suddenly Robb entered, out of breath. “You’re hurt,” he pointed out in shock upon seeing my blood soaked hand. He was best to me in an instant, taking my wounded hand gently. “What happened?”

“Immediately after you left I went to see the fire from the window. When I turned around that man was in the room. Said that no one was supposed to be in here before he attacked me,” I explained. “He tried to slit my throat but I caught the blade. He was about to kill me when Bran’s wolf saved both our lives.”

“Come, let’s get you to the maester so he can fix your hand and take your statement,” he said gently, leading me out of the room with an arm around me.

“Your Grace,” a servant approached the King as he sat eating, “a raven from Winterfell brought this.” Ned perked up at the mention of Winterfell. The boy held up a small roll of parchment.

Robert took it, unrolling it. Ned sat anxiously as the king read. “There was an attack on your younger son’s life,” Robert told his old friend. “He is unharmed but apparently my daughter took the brunt of the attack to protect him.”

“Is she…?” Ned trailed off, not wanting to utter the death of his new daughter-in-law and the King’s daughter into existence.

“It says she is alright, just a little shaken up and a nasty cut on her hand,” he grumbled. “So much for your son’s promise to protect her.” Ned stayed silent at the comment, knowing that Robb was surely kicking himself at the injury of his new wife. “Someone bring me The Hound!” Robert suddenly bellowed. “Tell him he’s going back to Winterfell.”

I was simply eating lunch, minding my own business when I suddenly heard shouts coming from outside. Peering out the window I saw a familiar figure riding in the gate. Several guards stood before Sandor, attempting to block his entrance. I knew that this would not end well if this altercation became physical so I rushed down the stairs and outside.

As I approached the bickering men, I found my husband observing them. He was far enough away that he wouldn’t disturb them but close enough to intervene should he need to. I was still decently far away when Sandor suddenly jumped from Stranger’s back, unsheathing his sword. As the guards began to attack, I ran towards them, screeching for them to stop.

I was so fixated on Sandor I didn’t even notice Robb until he had me caught around the waist, blocking me from reaching them. “Sandor! Stop! All of you stop,” I screeched but they ignored me.

Seeing how desperate his wife was, Robb finally spoke up. “That’s enough!” he yelled. “As Lord of Winterfell I order you to cease.” All the guards fell still at their Lord’s command, Sandor also falling still.

I ripped myself from Robb’s grip, going to my guard. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be halfway to King’s Landing by now?”

“Your father sent me back. He received word of your attack,” he explained, taking my bandaged hand gently. “He wanted you protected, seeing as your husband failed at that,” he said with a pointed glare towards Robb.

Turning to him, I could see him clench his jaw at Sandor’s comment. “Lady Stark, a word?” I moved to approach him, Sandor following. “No, not the Hound, just you.”

“My orders are to resume my post as the princess’ sworn shield. Wherever she goes, I go.”

“I am Lord of Winterfell and you are on my land, speaking about my wife. I will decide on all matters related to her.”

“I’m here on your king’s orders, regarding the safety of his daughter. A duty you failed.”

“Enough,” I shouted at both men. “We will all go inside where Robb and I can speak in private.” Both begrudgingly agreed, Robb leading us straight to our chambers. He left Sandor outside his door before guiding me into the en-suite washroom.

“The Hound is the man you love, isn’t he?” Robb immediately demanded, fuming. I was completely blindsided, not anticipating that this is what he wanted to talk about. “You nearly ran into a sword fight for him. You could be dead if it weren’t for me.”

“Robb-”

“I tried to let him stay with you, I spoke up for him because I thought it would make this transition easier for you.”

“Robb please…”

“No, he’s not staying here. Your father is welcome to send another guard but I won’t be sharing our bed with a dog. You said yourself you intend to make our marriage happy and to try to fall in love with me. We cannot have a happy marriage with your dog constantly nipping at my heels.”

I stepped closer to my husband, venom coursing through my veins. “Send him away and I will hate you forever.”

“Try me,” he growled. “You will either grow to love me or your disdain will eat you alive. I accept the fact that you loved someone before me, I am giving you time, but I do not need to offer your lover room in my home or a place in my bed.”

“Fine, send him away, but I beg you not to tell anyone. They will have his head if they knew.”

Robb sighed, observing his wife's desperate expression. “I won't. We will speak later tonight,” he said before storming out to send Sandor away. I stayed in Robb’s room until I was sure they were both gone. I could never bear the heartbreak of seeing Sandor as he was sent away. I also couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a bed with Robb tonight so I went to one of the many guest rooms, setting up there.

I managed to stay there all day without being found. It wasn’t until night fell and I was intent to go to bed that the door opened, revealing my husband. I sat up from my comfortable position on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

Robb began stripping off his clothes until he was only in his trousers. “You are my wife, I am your husband, we share a bed,” he declared, sliding into bed next to me.

“My parents don’t share a bed.”

“And you said your greatest fear was ending up like them.”

Defeated, I huffed, laying back down. I turned away from him but his arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled himself closer so his body molded to mine. “I’m sorry I sent him away but I know you understand why I did it. Would you rather we continuously hurt each other by bringing others into our marital bed? I love you, little doe, I won’t let our marriage become merely a bargaining tool.”

I stayed silent, reflecting on his words. I did understand why he sent Sandor away, our marriage could not be happy with a third person in it. Understanding but still angry, my hand found his, the one that he had slipped below the pillow underneath my head. Upon feeling my grasp, Robb nuzzled himself further into me, the arm around my waist squeezing me tighter and his face finding its place in the crook of my neck.

Part I | Masterlist

#got #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #sandor #sandor x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #the hound #the hound x reader #robb #robb x reader #robb stark #robb stark x reader #Sandor Clegane x reader x Robb stark

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rise-my-angel · 3 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

35 - The Souls Tethered in Death

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

Length: 17k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mild description of past illness, past character death, derogatory language, suicidal ideation, blood and violence

Notes: Plenty of things going in behind the scenes which are originated in the books, but don't worry eventually everything does come together. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You always felt somewhat bad sneaking off in such early hours of the morning. Especially now, he was warm and his arms always so soothing as you woke to the world. The sun only just begun to trickle in from the high windows. Eyes barley blinking open, you almost felt the pull to close them at once and move closer into the chest acting as something of a pillow.

But then the wave begun, never significant right away but it would grow. If you weren't trying to avoid waking him you would have groaned along with the heavy eye roll. One morning you would be fine and the next you would be doing as you did now. Gently preying yourself from his arms slow enough he didn't stir.

Wrapping a warm shall around yourself, you slipped a pair of shoes quick on your feet and moved towards the door. Pausing just as it creaked open, you glanced back and found the sight of him having turned in his sleep onto his side. Now facing your side of the bed with a furrow in his brow and you knew it wouldn't be long before the lack of a presence before him woke him up and he realized you snuck off again.

Knowing Robb, he likely would let out a great sigh, before huffing a smirk about how stubborn you were being about dealing with this.

But regardless, you begun a familiar path through the halls of Riverrun before making your way down towards the water. Squires and maids the only ones meeting you on the path, but eventually the cool wind picked up near the river blew your hair around, making you wish you brought something to put it up yourself already.

The morning was calm, and finally as you reached your destination, just like clockwork, you had been awake long enough that you felt the wave come up. Whatever was left in your stomach from the night before poured out into the hidden ditch.

You had about three seconds before another wave, then another and soon you could already feel the sweat accumulating on your flushed face as you knelt to the ground. One hand perched on the rocks, the other trying to keep your hair from falling in your path. Minutes passed and you found a small break in between, enough to let you finally catch your breathe as you glanced down to your growing stomach with a playful glare. “You know, I'd like to actually wake up beside your father in peace more then one morning at a time.”

As you finished, your words strained as your face twisted. Just before you could try and do it yourself, a gentle pair of hands finally arrived. Pulling your hair out of your face for you, and kneeling down to your level, as the other hand ran over your back. Leaning back up, you were handed a skin of water before the figure sat against the rocks beside you.

“I like that we sneak about to do this, feels like we're little girls getting into all sorts of trouble.” Hardly huffing a laugh, you finally sat more on your shins before looking up at Dacey Mormont. It was a pattern these past few days, sickness coming in early hours of the morning every other day and you'd sneak off with her to suffer through it in peace and quiet until it passed over.

Sipping another, hoping to let the burning wash down with it you almost grinned. “That's to assume I ever got in trouble as a child.”

Dacey only narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “You think I don't know our King? No chance you've been around him since you were a child and he didn't get you into heaps of trouble all the time.” Both of you laughed, as you finally opened your eyes more to the morning around you both.

Settling a bit, you tilted your head. “Different sorts of trouble, I'd reckon. Mine was more getting into fights with boys until one of us was getting kicked into the mud, and playing pranks on his brothers and sisters.” Pausing, you gave a jesting look as if to judge. “Can't imagine what trouble you found as a girl. Not sure I want too.”

Dacey laughed and then laughed even harder as you kneeled back over. She took over pulling your hair away from you again as she still shook a bit as you let it out. “Oh I did my fair share of rolling in the mud, it just wasn't that kind of fight I was getting into.” You mustered barley a judging look at her as you leaned back over. Dacey grinning at you, “Us Northerners aren't as uptight as your lot, remember.”

Straining out as you hardly even looked to her from the side, “Considering I'm the married and pregnant one I think that graces me to say I am the less uptight between us.”

Dacey, moved to gently wrap a free arm across your shoulders as she leaned comfortingly against you as support. “As if the Mormont women need husbands to do that, your grace. We simply turn into bears and find mates in the woods. Everyone knows that-”

Groaning you glared up at her properly, “If you tell me that story one more time I'm going to hit you, or throw up on you. I haven't decided which yet.” Through the remaining nausea, you heard her give a mighty laugh beside you.

A good few minutes passed before the pair of you had moved to take a gentle seat more against the rocks looking out to the water as you felt the life flow back into you, now that the sickness got out. Dacey beside you filling the quiet morning air, “Still don't know why you avoid dealing with this in front of the King. You two are disgustingly and insufferably in love, he'd take care of you in a heartbeat.”

Almost a grin formed on your lips as you shrugged. “That's just it. I don't get sick often, so I'm not used to people fussing over me when I do. And Robb would fuss.”

Dacey nodded, only to smirk as she added, “I think what I do might be considered fussing as well you know.”

Nodding, you washed the last of the burning in your throat away. “Yes, but you also make fun of me while doing so. Very different air then if it were Robb.” A small pause before you almost couldn't hold back the amusement in your tone, “He'd only slightly make fun of me at least.”

In truth you were grateful Dacey was choosing to stay behind. Her mother Maege was soon to leave and take some of her men and leave for tasks of Robb's need and her eldest would stay with the main army here. Telling her not so long ago, that you were relived another girl would stay with you around the thousands of men and soldiers and guards at your and Robbs side day in and day out. Telling her, “Not quite willing to lose my sanity just yet.”

The pair of you making your way up to the main castle, you knew no doubt exactly that Robb would be waiting for you. Only, as the pair of you were talking, a squire approached you. Saying a raven had come in for the King in the North. Standing still out in the cool air, you begun to open it as Dacey stood respectfully on the opposite side to not catch a glance, but did however smirk. “I do enjoy trying to guess if it is good or bad news depending on how little your face changes. I think I've gotten fairly good at knowing what impossibly small difference means one or the other now.”

Normally you'd chuckle. But the more you read the more your face blatantly fell to something cold but unsure in it's nature. Standing you read and reread it as Dacey called to you, “Is everything alright?”

Looking up at her with wide eyes, you shook your head before rolling the paper back up. “I need you to do me a favour, have someone get Robb and tell him to find me in our chambers right away.” Normally she may have made a joke about going another round so early in the day but the unsettled look in your eye made her change her stance.

He had found you leaning up against the wall just beside the window, a worry in his face that only increased as Robb could see you trying to hide yours behind an impassive wall. Stepping to you, you shook your head and pointed to behind him to the desk. The raven scroll now sitting out entirely for him. “Before you say anything, I need you to read it first in case I am entirely over reacting.”

Robb hesitated, before turning to pick it up. Only your fears were confirmed, as he held the same reaction you did. Confusion bleeding into realization, and landing it's finality on worry. “Sansa?”

Nodding, you stepped forward and instantly Robb could see where your mind went. Sitting it down behind him, he stepped up to you holding you by the waist as your hands found his chest. Murmuring your name quietly, you knew it struck him how wide eyed and openly nervous it made you. His voice though, stayed its calm and soothing warmth as he moved one of his hands to run along your cheek and jaw. “I'd rather lie to you and say it's nothing, but you're far too smart to fall for that.”

You barley nodded, or even gave any sort of a laugh. “This can't be a coincidence, it doesn't make sense otherwise. Why would he ever risk giving her to him after everything.” You both knew Lord Tywin Lannister was behind it and that only made you both feel more sure of the truth.

Shaking his head almost trying to doubt it in his mind, but Robb came to a conclusion already and sooner then you had. Leaning down he caught your eye properly, “He wants Sansa to give the Lannisters an heir, a Lannister Stark heir at their control.”

“Why, why now? They just ended her betrothal to Joffery why give her away to another Lannister unless he was planning something. What urgency is there?”

You hated that Robb had the answer, and it broke his heart to even say it. “Tywin finally knows your pregnant.” You tried to look at him in doubt, but he kept you in his touch with a gentle call of your name. “Most of the realm knows it by now. And he knows, if you and I have a son? We have a family to inherit the North and that will only grow bigger the more we have.”

His blue eyes were looking down at you before his hand slid to your stomach, almost wanting to cry out between you both at how much easier it was getting for him to feel something there. If you didn't wear something flowing to hide, it was more obvious to see as well. And yet you both stood in your chambers in Riverrun with fear. You whispered to him, “He's aleady thinking about a North that you and I aren't in.” Your brows furrowed before looking back up at him, hands finding each side of his jaw, “If he thinks Sansa is his key to the North,”

Robb finished for you, “That means there's something he is preparing for that we don't know about yet.” Looking down at your son, before finding your eyes, he sighed out before moving. Sitting down on the chair at the desk before pulling you gently into his lap sideways. Your hands draped around the back of his neck, fingertips toying with the more auburn looking curls. One of Robb's around your waist and the other keeping your eyes on his with a hand at your cheek.

Voice a whisper as you looked too softly at Robb, for him to handle. “One of these days I'm going to be too heavy to do this.”

Robbs face fell as he leaned in, his teeth scraping along your neck before nipping playfully. “If you think being with child is going to stop me from picking up and holding my tempting little wife in my lap, you are sadly mistaken.” Rolling your eyes he brightened finally with a laugh. “Do you not believe me? Do I need to carry you everywhere once you get too pregnant to do most things yourself to prove it?”

Leaning in, you both relaxed and felt your heart racing as he kissed you. Lips rough, but never deepening beyond your hands tight hold of the other. Barley leaving you felt his brush against yours as he spoke, hot breathe dancing across your skin. “I don't want to frighten you, but we need to prepare for whatever this is.” His face twisting somewhat as his head gestured to the paper. “The North is our home, and I know you and me will never give it up to them. So we have to be ready too.”

Looking at the other, you felt your heart slow as reason returned from the sooth of his loving gaze so sure of himself. It made you feel a little more sure was well. “We need to name a line to come after you.”

Robb nodded, but as one hand ran over your stomach, his thumb smoothing back and forth over a particular spot, Robb kissed you again. Almost not letting go as you held his own cheeks. “I need an heir. I need someone to be King in the North if something happens.”

You agreed, Robb knew you agreed but you still felt annoyed at the sting behind your eyes. Huffing as you shook your head and moved to hide in his neck. Robbs arms coming around you better, “I don't know when I've become such a wreck lately, I'm sorry.”

Pressing a kiss where he could at your hair he whispered, “Don't you be sorry, my love. I like when you're emotional. Makes you needy, and your King likes you needy.” You laughed a watery laugh and as he gently pulled you back to look at him, wondered if you liked it too or if it was just what being with child was making you feel.

Shaking your head, you ran your fingers through his hair again. “Sometimes I hate how in love with you I am. I'm supposed to be worried and running around trying to ready things for you and yet..” You only leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. “We should run who we propose to the council before we leave. Make sure everything is in place if Tywins going to have things in place on his end.”

Robb nodded, running his own hand along the back of your hair. “Good, I agree. Because I already know who it is I'm naming.” He said it with such confidence, but just as he did, you felt something warm in your own heart rising up. For once, it was not a strange heartbreak and sorrow you felt, but something much deeper as you looked at Robb with an admiration. “I don't know how to fix things when he's still so far away, but maybe if I'm not here..if you and I aren't here, I can still give my brother one last way to finally come home.”

Running through his hair, you both sat there with an understanding of where this was going and a comfort that both knew the other agreed without doubt. “I'm not sure if under those circumstances, he would want to come back named a Stark.”

But Robb knew his brother all too well. “I can put it in a way that it can be up to him. If he wishes to take our fathers House he can, if not then he can stay a Snow. I don't want him thinking he can only be King if I legitimize him under our name. He's my brother and it starts and ends there.”

Having moved things, Robb beckoned you to come back, perched in his lap still as you and him begun to detail it over. “If it's him alone, I will leave his heir up to his choice. I don't want to choose for him, he'd be King, it should be his decision.” Running a thumb along your stomach as you quickly wrote out details to craft formally once finished. Robb leaned to rest his chin against your shoulder.

For a moment, your mind could once more see images of a pretty face and her striking red hair and you almost dropped the ink writing in your hand. The thing you never had with him that she now gets so willingly, and you had to swallow it back down. It was easy once you glanced back up at Robb, letting those insecurities melt away.

Maybe you were stupid and childish for hating that pretty red hair, but as you looked at Robb, you once more saw the only future you knew you truly wanted. And it currently sat between you growing as you both spoke.

Robb knew this conversation scared you, but you had each other. Now and always, even in death you would still have him, and he would feel your tension ease up with every gentle reminder. This was your life together, and it was one you had Robb alone, which was all you needed.

So much of your current new life however, was spent trying to desperately forget how it came to be. You would never forget the final moments of your last and they persisted in haunting every waking moment. There was not a single day which would pass that at some point, you couldn't recall the gentle way Robb cupped the side of your face as he leaned over you as his entire world shattered.

How you had tried to apologize, tell him to leave while he could, but the only thing you could get out where hysterical pants as your lungs tried to breathe through the increasing amount of blood soaking the inside of your mouth. Barley enough cognizance left to recall the way Robb collapsed beside you and only for the quickest of seconds did you catch his eyes. Trying to go to him until..until you woke up again.

You didn't remember anything between, you didn't even remember anything beyond the fading in his blue eyes until you woke up to a nightmare. You weren't aware right away you were alive then, or if you had even been alive until that second. It was such a blurry chaos of fire and darkness you assumed you had been sent to a hell to atone until peace. And not once since that night did you ever allow yourself to think of the memory any longer then seconds. Some things of that night were trapped in your eyes forever, but that was one you refused to recall. It would haunt you for however long your new life had left in it.

But you hadn't been aware at that moment that you were not dead. No. That memory was something that you couldn't even tell people. Waking up from death so suddenly and so terribly alone?

They wouldn't understand. Not even Jon.

You had no voice to speak for the first while. Just a scratch that barley made enough sound to alert the men around that you had stirred in anyway. Over a day had passed before you found the strength of a voice, but you had nothing to say by then. You had woken up in a world where Robb was forced to die without you, and there were gaping slashes in your stomach that spoke of a son that would never be.

It was an inhuman feeling. No emotion encompassed how that realization felt, and all you wanted to do for months after that was die again. Something had left you behind that night and it didn't return, only a shell of a shadow that used to be you. A light, a fire, a warmth that no longer shined in your soul and you knew it had never returned. You were not a bundle of joy at the best of times, but now you were even less.

Rarley did you smile, laugh, or find hope beyond something right in front of you and it took a long time to even find as little as that. Part of who you used to be felt missing, and you were never quite sure you would find it again. A feeling that only increased the longer you kept going. Something in your soul was as dead and lost as Robb was in the Riverlands. Scattered and never to be found.

But whatever death had done with you, it was nothing compared to the vessel of vengeance that was what was being called Lady Stoneheart. You barley could call this something that used to be Catelyn Stark. Never had seen such hate in ones eyes and they never once stopped as they bore into you the entire journey. Beric Dondarrian had said she was dead three days when they brought her back and clearly what was stripped of that which made you human, was nothing lost compared to what was left out of her soul.

If you in that moment continued to question whether or not you being returned to life was a good idea or not, there was no denying that she was a mistake. Something warning of the power held in Thoros of Myr's hands and not to misuse it or suffer the dark pit of inhumanity that it created. It made her mind awake and limbs move, but her heart did not beat, blood did not flow, and she was not alive in any way that existed beyond what motivated her.

The last time you stood in Moat Cailin with her was when the North had just begun their campaign of war which at that point, was meant to save Eddard Stark's life. It was meant to free Arya and Sansa from the Lannisters captive and you all still had time. If you looked far enough, you'd still be able to see where you and her had stood and discussed how much you regretted leaving her husband and daughters behind. How she had looked at you in a concern at how easily you spoke of trading your life for theirs instead and you ignored her insistence that you deserve to be alive as much as they did.

It was here which you had stood in one of the tents with what had become Robb's war council and went over details of attack for the first time. Watching as Robb planted the first seeds of victory at the deception of Tywin Lannister and how swiftly had struck down Greatjon Umbers doubts of his intentions. It was here they saw the true makings of what was to be a great leader.

Now, you looked out to the land, seeing broken buildings in the distance, and just darkness and fire that remained. Scattered around a clearing with a pyre in the middle was the Brotherhood. If you were to guess, were around twenty to thirty of them and much to your frustration you recognized many of them. Knights and Sers and Lords, many of which passed through Kings Landing at some point and were faces which knew you as you did them.

But whatever these men fought for, it was done in cowardice. These were men who ran from their causes, abandoned their lords, their Kings to fight in the shadows and prey to a fire god which demanded nothing but agony in his worship. These were men which granted a place and safety to Gendry before selling him off a lamb for slaughter. They were nothing but outlaws and deserters fighting for no cause but their own righteousness.

Dragged to the side near where you stood were Gendry and Sam, wishing there was anything they could do as much as you stood there wishing they would have run themselves without you. Watching as you stood at the edge of what was a clearing, once more a fire surrounding your vision as if to emphasize the terror of what guilt would bring.

Beric stood beside for you only moments, speaking quiet to the still but fear painted bright in your narrowed gaze. Up towards the body of the flames and the creature stood on the platform behind it with their own dark gaze. “We seek the truth, nothing more. There is nothing to fear if there is no guilt in your actions.”

But your whisper was rough, an anger that grated against your throat that had your heart racing at the side of its tone. “You seek the truth, my lord. She seeks vengeance.” From the distance she never looked away from you as Harwin stood partially beside her and Thoros to the side of the other with his own eyes on you, but in volumes different then Berics understanding.

A doubt as with curiosity peeked in the man, “Those can both exist at the same time.”

Only a shake of your head once, your jaw clenching as you felt your muscles beginning that knowing tensity that shook the faster for blood flowed. “Not with her.”

They knew the creature she was, but not the woman influencing what this thing was to be like. They didn't know what was behind her hate and you didn't know if there was enough humanity to plead anything otherwise too. But you stood as men spoke, whispered, gathered and took their time.

Not rushing into it, but you were left to stand by the edge of the clearing with only the pleading looks of Gendry and Sam to find yours. They should have ran, you didn't want any blood on your hands anymore that wasn't your own. You were sick and tired of others falling victim to things not only yours to handle.

The four of them stood on the platform to watch, nothing but contempt in one but the ones on either side held a striking curiosity that were as wondering as they were doubtful. Clearing you were in seemed almost like an indent in the ground, the flatness of where you and the fire stood as many stood on the rolling of the hill around just slightly higher with nothing around but dark to accompany.

Only it was as Beric spoke your name, did you know the slight was meant on purpose. If she had wished for you to be dragged here, the woman knew that no longer was the House attached to your name that of Stark. But it was what you were called all the same. As if to accuse of leaving Robb behind with it.

As if giving it up was easy in the first place.

“You are brought before us in the Light of the Lord to bear witness to your crimes.” Breath inside your chest heavied as you knew if it was only that god watching, you had no hope for others to help. “The Lady Stoneheart, stands and accuses you of treason of her family and betrayal of her son.”

It itched in your mind to interrupt, that Robb was not only Catelyns son. He was King, he was your husband, he was the father of what would have been your child. His memory was not hers alone to defend. But you stood in silence, your nails trying to dig into your palms through the gloves without any success, rather the pressure biting down on your tongue would surely sting later.

Inhaling deeply as he spoke, you begged yourself to stand tall and unmoving as he spoke. “Crowning a usurper with no rights to that of House Stark, and denying birthright of her daughter.”

She wasn't there, you had to tell yourself. Catelyn was there that day, not this creature. She was not who stood and listened to what Robb said. Your voice was quiet as you tried to speak, but it was tinted with an edge that sat heavy to any listening. Something was held back in your tone. With a step forward, you now were alone in the snowy grass with just fire as you looked up to him instead of looking to her. “Your charges are too vague. If I am to be dragged here for judgment, I have the right to ask for the details you think I am guilty of.”

Beric and Thoros glanced to the other, you and Stoneheart looked to no one but each other without any blink or breathe passing. She seemed however, to need none of it anyways. Quiet as she spoke, you knew for all men to hear she would let Ser Harwin do so for her, and you hated it. You wanted to hear the lies spoken to you direct. Not half truths to others to appear in the right. “Without a son to stand as his heir, Robb Stark's throne by laws of the land pass to his rightful siblings. Brandon and Rickon Stark are gone, which means his sisters are next in line. By right of age, Sansa Stark is rightful he-”

You were louder then you should have been, but your voice strained doing so trying to keep the anger from such a shout. “You know that isn't true,”

Interrupting loud, Beric spoke with sternness. “You will be given your opportunity to speak, for now let your crimes be laid out in full.”

It only got worse, and the lies felt as if they all were desperate to paint you as the worst with ill intentions as the ones you and Catelyn had seen in the likes of Cersei Lannister. But you had to listen, and hope you had enough words to defend against the lies. “You are accused of keeping the Lady Sansa off her rightful throne and betraying your late King by crowning their bastard brother, which laws state he has no right too.”

“What laws?” Silence followed your ask, but you stepped further into the clearing to look this time at all three of them. “By the laws of the land you have stated, which laws are that? That which are outlined by the Iron Throne? Laws of inheritance of that for the Seven Kingdoms? Need I remind those of us who are not Northerners, we are no longer in the Seven Kingdoms. We are in the North, an independent North.”

Lines of succession, birth rights, blood rights, thrones and crownings it was all any cared about anymore to fight for. Aegon likely stood besieging Storms End as you stood here all because he refused to listen to the one person who told him the truth of the future coming. If these people here claimed to know what was coming, then they were as ignorant and useless as the blue haired dragon. None of this mattered, none of you had time for this.

Whatever anger she spat at you with, it was felt rather then heard from Harwin's translation. “And the North is to be inherited by the lawful heir which is Sansa Stark.”

You knew this was going to anger this vessel in front of you, but hiding the truth was of no use and she was there that night. She knew the truth even if she had been lying to all others. “Tell me my lords, had I been considered of House Stark by marriage to Robb Stark?” The response was quiet and confused just as Lady Stoneheart glared behind terrifying hate. “So by way of marriage, a highborn lady becomes that of her husbands House and thus is subject to the rights and consequences as such? That means your daughter Sansa is now of House Lannister by marriage. You would crown her and give the North the perfect chance to be taken hold of by the House which murdered your husband? Your son and grandson?”

The crowd sent whispers and if there was any hope it was that all still hated the Lannisters as much as any ever had. But as she glared at you and spoke, spitting something which Ser Harwin turned to her in almost shock before he looked back slowly. Whatever she said, it wasn't what Harwin put out. Still, you knew to pick off the defences bit by bit. There was only one aspect of this trial which mattered, and it was only a matter of time before there were no accusations to prove innocence of until the only guilt put on you that was in truth. But you did not come here willingly to defend lies.

Ser Harwin glanced to her then you, “That is not for you to decide-”

You didn't blink, and you no longer felt reason to be guilty of telling her that. She knew why it was done, and she knew that it was Robb who decided it all of his own choice. It was the reason the discussion happened that night in Riverrun in the first place. “Robb Stark disinherited Sansa. Wrote her out of his line of inheritance entirely, as to avoid ever giving the Lannisters a chance to rule it. And after the Boltons took it over under their rule anyways you wish to hand it right back? Is that the North the Lady Stoneheart thinks should be the future?”

Your blood increased in heat even despite the fire ablaze before you. Dragging you from the dark like an animal they did not dare come to accuse you in that of Winterfell. The North would not stand for whatever this farce was and you knew it. What you didn't know, is how they knew where you were to lure you into walking to them in the first place.

“What are you not telling them, my lady?” Perhaps, neither of you blinked nor breathed that time. “It was not just Sansa's disinheritance to which was discussed. What did Robb tell you, what did the highlords of the North agree too which you have refused to present in front of these men? Why am I alone when my true guilt should be shown to the North you claim I betrayed?”

Robb this isn't your mother, you thought. This is not her, and you despised this was what of the mother he loved was left to walk the lands. His memory has no right being defended by her, by this creature which crushed everything he was working towards. Her crimes in life put strife between mother and son enough, but this was nothing compared to it. So you said the truth.

“Robb Stark named his brother Jon Snow as his lawful heir. To be King in the North after him should he have died without issue. Your son wanted Jon to be King, and the line after that now follows whatever children he has. It doesn't return to your daughter. The North is Jons. You would go against your King, your sons law by ignoring his final decree?”

He wanted her to support Jon just once, but she refused then and her anger refused now to something even worse. This was a place, a cause that he never thought he would have or deserve. Jon didn't deserve to have this taken away beacuse she still sees him a bastard. Jon was, is, and would always be far more then that.

You heard her that time and you suspected she wanted you to recall the words. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

The brothers never got a chance to properly see how far the other had come, never got to see the man the other became and it still broke your heart. The only thing Robb knew to do, trying to bring his brother home where he belonged, was only in death. Robb never wanted that to be taken from him. And the boiling inside you got worse. Only now is flooded heavy with sorrow.

It was Robb's idea to name what would have been your second son together, after Jon. He wanted his brother back in his life so much, and you feared the idea that should you not prove your side, Jon might be fooled into thinking this creature's lies of Robbs intentions were true.

“Jon is as much a Stark as any. I didn't make him King alone, he was he one who reclaimed Winterfell from the Boltons, he was the one who reunited the North. Jon was the one the Lords all named their King. You have no right to come in so much time later and speak of things you, none of you, know anything about.” You felt angry, your voice louder then you suspected you thought you had been speaking in.

Eyes all watched in silence for a moment, and you felt the words come up. You wanted to hear it from her. “Tell me, this isn't about treason or betrayal. I know that, you know that my lady. How about you tell these men what my crime truly is? What my great sin committed is so heinous you demand I be humiliated in front of your men before my execution?”

Beric tried to assure you this was not to humiliate but you didn't even look at him. You wanted her to say it, but she wouldn't. She would say it on her own, and it would end this before it started to admit her own actions were vengeance of bias and not justice.

Who else had died for whatever vengeance she had sought? How much blood had the men now at her side allowed her to shed in this manner? What crimes did she have to commit before they looked to put her on the act of justice or did the Brotherhood get to be exempt of their own righteousness.

“The North does not belong to a bastard. It belongs to House Stark.”

So she wasn't going to admit it, though you weren't sure if you were shocked by the fact but you understood the implications all the same.

“If the North belongs by right to your daughter, where is she?” Glancing around your arms waved out almost dramatically as your eyes narrowed up to her. “If it truly is her throne to inherit then why has Sansa not been found a passage back North to assume her rightful place? Or perhaps is it not about that? It is about how you hate that Robbs people look up to Jon. It is that you are aware you could not convince the North to hate him so you find blame to place on me, knowing I would answer in his place.”

Turning to the crowd, you found the wide eyes watching you. An apologetic glaze found its way from your eyes to Sam, hoping he understood it was a sorry before it would hurt him, before you even got to such a detail. But he had not been there for some of the worst of these tales and it was an awful thing to hear them as story like this for the first time.

Her voice tried to shout as best it managed, cracking and scratching at ones ears until they bled as even the collar on her neck used to keep pressure on the slice open was not enough. The milky whiteness over her eyes still held enough faintness that they bore into you, and down. You knew it was visible through the tear in your dress as it was stared at. If it were Catelyn inside her, maybe it would have brought something back to her humanity. But none was there a trace.

Peeling them back up to you did she speak. “What say you for bringing Jon Snow back from the dead?”

You felt the necklace against your neck under your dress, and you burned to think coming back only brought more death and hatred to follow. You didn't have a true knowing, but you only knew of something sure. “I was the captive of the Boltons for a year and when I had escaped, I was brought to Castle Black for refuge. Only when I got there, a group of men had committed mutiny against their Lord Commander, against Jon. And he was dead by the time I got there.” Whispers followed and so did the eyes of Sam.

You looked to him, and you were honest in the red behind yours too. He was trying to ask in silence through something devastated, and your voice cracked enough as you could feel the phantom of his scars that day over the freezing cold of an unbeating chest. But you had not the words to say it either, you had known what death for the two Stark men in your life you loved looked as. And they knew of yours so some degree when they didn't deserve it.

Somewhere in another life, you were not you, but other people. Split between women better for them who gave them life, and happiness and not this dark veil which shrouds you at all hours. “I didn't do any magic. I didn't perform any ceremony, spoke any words and no actual power ran through me but I brought him back all the same. And I will not say any sorry for that. I won't stand here and tell you I am guilty of that when it isn't a crime. He deserves to live, no matter what you hate him for.”

Lady Stoneheart watched you, but it was Thoros who spoke beside her. “You were returned from the dead yourself. You needed no one to do as I do the Lady or Lord Beric. If the Lord of Light uses his power through my words when I hope and pray, he grants his powers to you without need of permission.” Your head tilted, but you felt a shiver finding his eyes before he turned to speak to the others. “Our Lord has given this woman a purpose. And I see no crime committed in a servant of the Lord of Light, fighting for her purpose as she sees fit.”

It wasn't fanaticism though, not in his eyes. He was tired and shaken and something that was dedicated and attached to the idea of typing purpose to someone and you felt as if he knew something of why you were out alone in the first place. If Berics were that of understanding sympathy, Thoros's eyes were that of a painful empathy.

“If she is not guilty, then so her King is so answer for her crimes.” You didn't know who said it, but your jaw clenched as every muscle tensed. You had left to find family when he was ripped from his, you had left to give him space when you had hurt him, you had left to stop ruining his life he was not going to be dragged into this now.

You could hear Sam protesting, “Jon hasn't done anything wrong, and neither has she.” You would look to ask him to stop but you could hear the emotion heavy in his voice as he tried to shout and there was not the strength to tell him to back off. “If bringing a man back to life is a crime then you should've been punished ages ago, you haven't told her what she's done wrong-” There was more debating around as you looked up to her again.

If only for a moment, you found enough in her faintness to recall the person this thing was possessing the essence of. Catelyn wasn't hateful, not like this. You had sat there on the journey to Riverrun with her as she was honest. Telling you of that day and how much it hurt you, but how guilty in her eyes she felt for what she knew was many horrible acts she had never reconciled. Catelyn protested but did not argue with Robb to the point she refused to accept his will.

This took Catelyn and twisted what was already wrong into a toxic poison to infect all who stand too close. But this was not her. Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled for only a deep moment, letting your shoulders relax as you thought of who the rest were.

You didn't know these men, not in the way they were now but you knew them before, and what the god they worshipped was. They asked for truth, she wanted vengeance. Looking up her, you spoke quietly almost building the courage as you repeated yourself. “You wish for me to confess my true guilt?”

As it was heard by some, many caught on as eyes all turned.

But you looked at her. “You wish for me to confess my guilt, is that what this is? Hunt me down and drag me here by blood and demand I say I'm guilty. But not for this, you wouldn't have accepted only me if you truly thought Jon was the enemy. This is about us, this is about me isn't it?”

You could see Gendry try and step forward, an anger twisting on his face at whatever you were about to do but in strokes of luck did Sam grab him with a look to pull him back.

“How about we tell the people exactly what it is you are really accusing me of. This has nothing to do with a crown, or the North, or your daughter or treason. No, the only crime I have committed is loving your husbands bastard son.” If sound was around you, you didn't hear any of it. “The crime I committed was I didn't hate Jon the way you wish I did. My only crime is that I am the reason Jon is alive and you despise that I couldn't control that it wasn't Robb.”

Her scratching was like a hiss seeping into your bloodstream and crawling up your spine. “You are why my son is dead.” But you felt the knife. The sudden feeling so swift into your stomach as the woman once in front of you shouted Robbs name before any knew what was about to happen.

You could feel it all pooling out as you looked up to Robb before collapsing and the only thing you remembered after was how he looked at you begging you not to go, but you couldn't even speak beyond the blood and pain to tell him you loved him before you could.

It was hardly a whisper, but there was no strength behind the pain still. You had accepted the loss, but not found ease of the agony. “Robb was not your son.” If you could jump into the flames now and have it all go away without consequence, you would. “You are not Catelyn Stark, just whatever demon possesses her corpse too late passed her death. Whatever was brought back, it wasn't her and Robb would never agree you were his mother either. This is nothing but hate you all follow, brought her back and let her seek vengeance at any cost. Is this how justice is done in the Brotherhood?”

Turning partially to seek eyes around the clearing and if there was ever unity or purpose in these men it was no longer here beyond darkness. “I spent a year desperately wishing I could go back to being dead, begging someone, anyone to let me go back and stay dead beside him. Robb was the future I had chosen for myself, I went back to him, and the first time in years I felt any happiness was when I was to have a child with him and you have no idea how it feels to have that all ripped away from you. For the only memory being the scar that murdered your unborn son. I would give anything to trade places with Robb, he was a better person I could ever hope to be and he deserves to be here. But he isn't and I cannot change that.”

The wavering in your throat wanted to strangle you with pain and tear what was left of you apart in a sob but you would not cry for this thing. Certain people only existing in fear and blood should not be graced with the tears of their victims. “What does the lady say to such a defence?” If Thoros had tried to keep the peace you tore it down in seconds.

You did not play games before with these kinds of people and you wouldn't now. If it ended with you so be it, but let it be not without a sword to fight back with. “She has nothing to say, my crime is bringing one Stark back to life and not the other when I did not have any choice in doing any of it. My crime is still having enough of a heart to love more then just Robb Stark, and if that is what I'm guilty of then so be it.”

If someone watching as witness saw it coming, if any had approached, you did not hear them over the screaming in your head of everything lost just to get you here. “I refuse to let any of you decide what to do with my life, and I certainty refuse to allow her anywhere near Jons. Isn't taking lives what you all do now anyways? Making men fight for their freedom?”

Beric's voice was stern, “Death for you will not be as simple.” Glancing up at him, you let him continue in silence. “I am brought back by Thoros as the Lord of Light bids. You on the other hand, are of Kings Blood. Your life is not so easy to revive.”

It was as if he knew something that he was now holding off on revealing. “Much was taken from you before you could be brought back, the Lord would not do so idly if you had one use only. He has many servants he could call upon should he only need you for that.” Your eyes met his, and you felt nothing but the impending defeat. “He wants you alive.”

You had never met someone who had come back other then Jon, but clearly something that was lost in you was multiplied in the one before you. Four dead and each one vastly different from the other, and it felt odd to meet all. To have known all in your life before.

“What of what I want?” You glared up at her, blood racing as you felt yourself approaching doing something rash. “You do not deserve this life given, using it to defend against my son. You are only a whore warming a bastards bed. It was a mistake asking the gods to spare his life that night.”

The thing about being Northerners surrounding an outlaw group of mostly Southerners, is that they had not any inkling of what it felt like to be watched on anothers land. In the dark and wilderness which surrounded the group were many watchful eyes, all perched in the snow watching for right and wrong signs to approach.

Jon barley knew of these men, but he and many however, watched in a shock at the sight and the one who led them. He had been warned, but seeing was something else entirely. Spending his life avoiding the spite filled eyes of Catelyn Stark and yet the ones on her now were hateful to a frightening degree. Only they were directed at you.

He could still remember the way she looked at him that day. He, Robb, his father, Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin had all gathered in the room which was to be yours. His father having brought you up there after discovering you had not just collapsed, but you were burning up almost while he could feel your forehead.

You were flushed with sweat and almost pale that the window had to be opened fully just to keep you even slightly cool, and it still barley worked. His father stood with a rigid, but worried look as he tried to keep his concern from reaching his sons, despite knowing they saw all of it. “How bad do you mean?”

Luwin had glanced to the you and then back to his father, with a heavy weight muttered, “I would suggest preparing a raven to send to Lord Stannis. One that can be sent out at a moment's notice.” Jon had barley taken his eyes off you at that point, as if suddenly your tiny signs of breathing would disappear in an instant as his heart raced painfully. Saying someone would always have to be with you.

Just as the three adults begun to discuss who would do what when, Jon had stepped forward with a rough but earnest, “I'll do it.” All turning, Luwin, Robb, and his father looking the same, but Lady Catelyn had narrowed her eyes already. Jon had to ignore her. Looking back to the others, “I can take care of her.”

She had looked at him as if he was some monstrous criminal ready to violate you the moment they left the room. She tried to protest and his father shot it down, saying they all had things to do and Jon would only be missing training in the yard for now. He quietly said he would come check on him much later, but as they all left the room, his instructions from Luwin of what to do, he had turned back to look at Lady Catelyn still there.

Watching him with narrowed eyes, before flickering them up to you and turning away before she said anything more. The older both of them got, the less she would restrain her comments towards him when both were in private. Jon simply got used to that. But back then, he still hated the way he wasn't trusted with you.

Jon sat by your bedside that entire night and for the next three nights to follow, and by the time his father came to check on him he hadn't even noticed the moon passed over the middle of the night sky by then. He barley had looked away, making sure he could always tell you were breathing and every few minutes he would both check to see how hot your head was, and run a cool cloth over to keep you comfortable.

As he knelt there now though, Jon knew it meant something that no matter what he thought or told himself he still automatically referred and saw Ned Stark as his father in his mind. Arya was his sister until he was reminded by her words that he had a secret and she was almost enraged at him for it. He never wanted any of them to think this truth meant he didn't love them. His father, his brothers, sisters. He loved them all. He didn't want any of them to think that changed.

It was too confusing, and Jon couldn't help but wonder if he had brought this on himself. Spending so many years doubting his place within the Stark family, and now it was all on his shoulders to decide for good where he stood in it.

Jon hated that he let his anger get the better of him, that he had said things in a way that made you feel he didn't want you, didn't love you anymore when he still felt as terrified now as he did when alone with you unconscious self that first night. He didn't want you doubting that, and he was angry at himself for not just stepping back. That was twice he took things out on you now, but even still, it was those eyes he was mad at most.

Look at him that way, Jon thought. Whatever this once visage of Catelyn Stark was, he wanted her ire to be looking only at him. He was used to a form of it his whole life, he didn't want your last true reminder of your life with Robb to look at you with the kind of hate that pushed Jon to the Wall in the first place.

“What in Seven Hells am I looking at?”

Narrowing at the fire in the clearing where many stood, Jon could see her, with the kind of hate none deserved to be look at with. But nothing of her was familiar anymore. Not turning more then his head slightly to the side, Jon whispered “I'm not sure I want to know.”

Yelling could be heard, and he knew if your voice was raising that much it wasn't good. That had he and Maege glance uneasy at the other. Jon knew what he had seen, and she heard the rumours and it felt none too good what they were walking in on. Theon came to his side, kneeling down much as he could with a whisper of his own, “Count about thirty, not including the two hostages with them.”

Ser Davos on the other side of him, whispered in an angry urgency watching it play out. “We need to get in there now.”

Jon shook his head no, watching with sharp eyes at the woman he once knew. “I need eyes closer then this. Need to know a path to get down there without alerting them we're here. Otherwise they could kill her if we can't sneak up behind them.”

Just as he heard someone speak up, he decided for them. He hadn't done this in front of anyone who wasn't you, but he knew it was the safest option. He needed someone who could sneak silent a ghost and there was only one who could without question. What was one more abnormal thing to add to the eyes of his people. He took a knife to the heart, it didn't get stranger then surviving that.

He wouldn't know what the reaction was, but he knew in a moment Jon was there and the next his eyes seemed to paint over totally white with Jon still perched in place, and the direwolf next to him matched with eyes as white until they faded back to a red.

The sounds around should have been what set you off, but it wasn't in your senses. Your eyes trained narrowed and blazing with a rage as she gave you the same right back. This was not her, this was never her. You knew Catelyn Stark, you did not know this woman. This was hate and anger, and took every inch of spite, guilt, and anger in Catelyn's soul and twisted it into something dark and vengeful that sought to only do harm to anything she had seen as a threat.

This was a mockery of something which you used to be able to call a mother. Not any longer.

Whatever and whomever had snuck up behind, you almost held no care for it. Swords and blades drew and as some snuck up behind, those of the Brotherhood also fought back. You recognized in the back of your mind that of your people, but did you truly? No, you hadn't let her go in your sights.

All by her side left to jump into a fight and yet it seemed around you, none put you in targets sights in either camp and so you could only bide your time.

He had not the time to consider what it said that the wolf which jumped from the shadows, lunging to the deathly figure he once knew, was the same sort of large and imposing but darker in fur and quick snapping aggression then Ghost. Jons own direwolf snapping with a jump at any looking to flee, unwilling to let such injustice occur by escape as Jon fought back against them.

Whatever battles most of these men fought was none. Undisciplined and jumped into another blade as if their instincts alone would guide them and little helped when it cut though their bravado as it did bloody into their skin. Not all though, were untrained. A small few gave a fight, and the one finding within Jons sight was a solider.

One eye covered and scars running all over, but he had not the time to think as metal clashed. But it was one thing to fight with skill, and another with anger. Needing talent to wield both and few had such capabilities and even as such it became a balancing act which Jon struggled to maintain. Pushing him forth and a swift aggressive charge shoved both towards the other.

The fire behind him which should have burned hot the closer the one eyed opponent pushed him back and back further to dance with the flames. One hit before the other and that balance crept closer and closer the more Jon considered he had lost placement of where you had been entirely.

But one well timed swing could change everything, and he had to trust in himself to get that. The problem on the other, such standard armour had blatant weak spots. What it covered worked for what was necessary and yet such small but quick vitals sat important in the bends between metal coverings along them and one swift plunge of a blade could penetrate it with ease.

But it seemed, this needn't not be a fight to the death to end it. Surrender, was easier and this time Jon hadn't needed to force their hand.

You cared not for a single moment why the blades stopped clashing around you, and neither did you find any attention directed towards the words and whispers coming in the final surrender of who was left. It had not even registered which it was occurring before you, only the slow steady steps to the side to where one of your own now stood did you pay attention too.

Hours felt like they could have passed in what was no more then seconds, but you could only hear what she had said, claimed, spit in a hatred towards those of a life which once did not belong to whatever possessed Catelyn now. It was rash and unwise, one may call it impulsive and stupid but the moment the metal of a daggers handle found your creeping hand to one's side did you decide none of it mattered.

You would have done so to the Boltons had you had the chance that night, and it was the act of only one who kept such a butchering from painted your hands in red. This time however, you had the debate as your heart pounded painfully as the sensation too in your head. You did not care. This was not a person, this was a falsehood masquerading as a person and you could only hear the scratching of a voice talking down to the only things left in your new life giving you a purpose.

Three people went for you the very second you snatched the dagger, but only one whose voice shouted your name stopped you. Jumping up across the stones and rocks blocking such an easy path, you would put the rest of this blade through the slice in her throat and show her that she did not deserve to pretend she suffered as Catelyn did. Walk around as if Robb was her son.

It was nothing but red for the insinuation of how little she was a person. Catelyn had expressed the pain she felt. You had not the mental state for it at the time but she still had admitted it in guilt. That she had promised to the gods.

“Let him live, and I'll love him. I'll be a mother to him…And I couldn't keep my promise. And everything that's happened since then all this horror that's come to my family it's all because I couldn't love a motherless child.”

In truth however, what made people better then their worst moments, was whom they choose to keep around to ensure those worst moments do not come truly to pass, even if every scrap of blood in your veins wishes to prove it didn't matter as long as you put that blade through this creature.

You hadn't seen anyone who moved to stop you, only the sound of Gendry shouting your name and the undeniable hauling back strength of a Baratheon that yanked your arms back and kept you away from her.

All watched as this thing the North once knew and respected, hissed through a deathly visage and scratched throat towards you almost so tough any slightly further away then mere feet could not hear. But you did, and Gendry adjusted his grip further against you with as much determination as your anger felt. “Robb should have carved his son from your womb when he had the chance.”

Few times did any hear you in a fashion any could consider a yell like that of Robert, but it tore from your throat as it painted over your eyes. The memory of blue staring down and a hand soaked in blood as nothing but heartbreak shattered the world which was the man you loved, and the angering words spat towards her in an shouting instinct, “Burn in hell,”

Jon had to focus on not looking in two opposite directions.

More then going right to one or the other, other things first had to be done, that was his duty. One was a morbid curiosity of how and why and truthfully who was she anymore. But the other was led away before he could once more go to you.

In the settling night, it was Ser Davos who moved fast. Swiftly walking over to you and the one still holding you back. There was something almost familiar in the manner you and the other had interacted, the way you stood around the other as if used to it. But Jon didn't know who it was, and whatever Ser Davos had said in too quiet for any else to hear, he had prompted the other man to lead you away from the scene as your eyes almost didn't even peel away from the woman in an anger before allowing her to be taken from such a scene.

Jon didn't blame you for not looking his way, but he still hated it.

He needed answers of what these people had done, and not a shred of patience for understanding their justifications of blood they shed to get here. But when he had begun to pry into how they had learned all of their information, dots that were already suspicious in Jons mind begun to connect.

It continued to take a great effort not to look at her, not to find those hateful eyes kept guarded as far from the others as possible. Instead sitting across from Lord Beric, hands tied at his front as Jon kept a dark, unchanging gaze at him as Ser Davos now sat beside him. Beric however, found words first. “You look like him. Your father.”

If he was thankful for one thing, it was his growing skill in remaining as impassive as possible not to change expression. He knew who he meant, and he knew he looked nothing like the one now plaguing Jons mind. “You knew him?”

Nodding, “When he was Hand of the King, he charged me to lead a rally men to execute The Mountain in his stead for slaughtering villages in the Riverlands.” A small smile that meant little when looking into his eyes, “Who would have known that was only the first time I was to be killed by a Clegane.”

Jon nor Davos found amusement, and whatever impatience for this the later had, the former found anger still. “And what am I supposed to say to that, when you had innocent men and women slaughtered in Barrowton just to lure my wife out of hiding?” Beric at the least, had a look fallen to a sorrowful sympathy.

“You're angry with me, and I can't blame you.” Glancing over to Thoros of Myr, Jon followed the mans eyeline to go up until it found a small stone ruin not so far off where you had currently were with the one Jon didn't know. “I'm not proud of what we've become. When Thoros and I started this, we were doing what we did to protect the common people. Protect them from the nobles ravaging their lands from war, war your family was waging.”

Jon knew Davos had spared a glance to the setting of his jaw and the tint of darkness seeping more into his eyes as he watched. It was a risky thing most knew by now, speaking ill of those Jon Snow loved, and even more dangerous to do so about Robb Stark. Speaking for him hoping to quell whatever anger still sat on the Northern Kings tongue, “No one here's saying it doesn't have a cost, but peace isn't found by two sides just getting along. Robb Stark fought and died for an independent North, and so far it's the only place that's been able to hold that, thanks to him.” Gesturing to Jon beside him with a nod.

Peeling his eyes back, Jon nodded a thank you to Smalljon Umber on one of his sides and Maege Mormont on the other, as they all but tossed the second party down somewhat beside Beric. Thoros seemed much more like the talker of the pair of them, and none of the Northerners present had energy for these people as such. “You both started the Brotherhood after abandoning your fealty to House Baratheon.” Jon said it not with judgment or accusation, but these men were known as outlaws for a reason.

Thoros seemed a bit of an easier going, if a little bit distant and purposely aloof in his tone. “We formed it after the Mountain impaled this one in the chest with a lance. The Lord of Light brought him back and we found something better to do with our days, then fight for this King or that King.” Once more nodding to Beric, “Then he died five more times and here we are.”

Ser Davos was short with the subject, and Jon was thankful. If he and the man did not speak of any subject, it was the wounds all over Jons chest they both knew Davos saw. “So what does that have to do with his wife?”

Beric looked tired, Thoros looked more with shame. But it was Thoros who said it, “Ser Harwin was the one who begged to bring Catelyn Stark back. We found her body, what the Freys did. Stripped her naked and tossed her in the river and he wanted so badly to bring her back. And perhaps this is the Lords way of punishing me for not listening to Beric when he said it was too late.”

All she was doing, was glaring at Jon now that only he was visible. At least now, Jon had become someone who was not uncomfortable and insecure over such hostility. Anger might not have been much better, but it was more productive.

Beric speaking low, “The longer you are dead the less of you that comes back. She was dead for over three days, I think there is very little left of Catelyn Stark which came back. But she is the one who commands, the one who leads us. She certainly had the drive for it unlike any of us. But it also meant she chose a much bloodier path to justice then we did alone. For that I can only apologize.”

Jon however, wasn't satisfied. “I can't give those people their loved ones back with an apology.” Your name coming from him with a twist in his face growing impatient. “You followed her, you had men start a slaughter in the streets just to lure her out and have that woman put her on trial for something she didn't do? That what you choose to follow now?”

Both of the men looked at the other, something unspoken being shared with ease between the silence as Jon felt the tensity in his shoulders grow. “I admit, our goals of coming North were far different then that of Lady Stoneheart. She came for vengeance, but we came here for something far different.”

As Jon asked what that was, Beric looked pointedly at him and Thoros looking up to where you were and did he ever feel unsettled once more. Beric spoke first of you. “She brought you back, Thoros has brought me back six times, and no one but the Lord of Light himself saw fit to bring her back. Maybe this was all meant to happen so the chosen who serve him could come together.”

Jon was short and rigid with him, the feeling in his shoulders now draping across his back as it left every part it touched feeling uncomfortable. “I serve the North.”

“The North didn't raise you from the dead.”

If he thought he was trying to lead Jon towards a greater point, he was wrong. Ser Davos beside him chose to change the subject for him, “I've seen one of your priestesses,” Gesturing with a narrowed ire towards Thoros, “Burn good, innocent people alive for your god. I've seen her try to burn children alive for your god. If that's the cost for whatever he wants you to fight for, it's one I don't see as worth it. “

Jon could only hope you have never come close to truly seeing what watching someone burn to death of a pyre as such looked like. He had seen the red woman do it to Mance before he spared him a mercy kill, and he'd do damn near anything to make sure you didn't find out just how terrifying it must have been for Shireen.

“So is this family immune to death, or are you that special?”

Glancing at the hand he was wrapping, a cut from one scuffle to the other in the past days begging to get infected if kept out any longer, you found a barley there smirk and shrug. “Let me stick a knife in your stomach and find out.” He glanced down to where it sat uncovered once more and your expression fell flat and voice frustratingly short as Gendry did a poor job at pretending he hadn't looked. “If you want to ask, ask. Don't pretend as if I can't see you staring.”

Nodding somewhat to it, “Looks better then Lord Beric.”

The laugh was a huff which held little to no meaning behind it. “Most people look better then he does now.” Eyes narrowing in curiosity at him your voice lowered, “Were you just going to always keep to yourself that you knew this was possible, or were you waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask if that's what happened to me when everyone though I was dead.”

“Didn't know you, wasn't going to pry.” Both your eyes met and yours were as furrowed and doubtful as Gendry was trying to pretend as if he wasn't amused with your lack of amusement.

Rolling your eyes eventually, you pulled your hand back once he finished. Mumbling as you put your glove back on, “At least I know you are related to me without any doubt.” Asking a hesitating why you simply responded flatly, “All Baratheon men are some degree of irritating.”

He barley nudged you in the side when he turned falsely apologetic, “My apologies, your grace. I forgot it isn't acceptable to hit a Queen unless you're beating the shit out of her during a fight in the streets.”

“Or unless she deserves it.” Eyes flickering up, you felt the guilt swallow you whole once more as you nodded for Gendry to give you a moment. Standing up, you could tell Theon had spent the last few days in anger. Eyes with slight bags and a tensity in his shoulders as he stood tall but his tone was short. “I already yelled at Jon, and I was coming over here ready to yell at you..”

Your eyes drifted down, and Theon cut himself off as you blinked slowly. Inhaling with the courage to look back up at him, “If I had told you what I was doing or what I wanted to do, what would you have done?” Interrupting as he opened is mouth, “And don't say you would have gone with me, we both know that isn't true. You would've stopped me. Or tried to, or told someone right away I was trying to leave and-”

“None of this would've happened.” Once upon a time you may have tried to argue with him, but you bit your tongue and kept it back. “Who the hell is that anyways, that what you ran off for? Meeting up with-”

You both were just taking turns interrupting the other, knowing you could go on in a rant. But the honesty slipped out, beacuse at this point some truth needed to be said. Theon didn't deserve to be lied to. “He's…someone I knew from Kings Landing, but he reached out to me and he was trying to keep his identity secret so I didn't tell anybody I was going to find him.”

Theon wasn't fooled to think you weren't keeping information from him, but in the outside it might not be the best place to discuss it. It was quiet for a moment before he stepped closer. “So, four dead people in one place. Has to mean something.”

You almost lost his gaze for a moment before you sighed. “Perhaps it's only supposed to show me that however wrong I came back, at least you all can still somewhat recognize me on the inside.” She stood now too far away for you to see, but you could still sense her. Something created only to hate. Not too far from something created only to destroy as well.

The gods warning you that things from every walk of life was coming for you all, it could be.

But as you both stood there, Theon finally sighed. “Caring about you is exhausting, you know that, Baratheon?”

You only shrugged, and he held a smirk back before you both moved to hug the other. Tight and a leaving desperate worry simmering down to a calm between you both as you whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Nodding, you both kept a tight hold. “Don't run off again. Me and Jon aren't ready to be left alone yet. Barley did anything without you but argue.” You let out something of a laugh that sounded close to breaking, but so did Theon as he returned it.

Maybe it said something, that the persons surrounding you that were of family or were something like family, but it was Theon you had reunited with first.

You had watched Jon reunite with Sam from how far you were now though. The happiness in expressions and hug that followed from where you were now keeping from the scene. The building still in ruins but stairs leading up to the exposed second floor now stood as an open awning to the night sky. The two had seemed emotional and the guilt came at that being how Sam learned what happened to him.

Everything that led here, you wondered if it was all worth it. Wondered if there was reason to stay, every step of the way it felt as if you were the one causing Jon problems. Putting his life in danger, making his life worse. Were you simply too selfish to stop, was that it? Your mind about Jon was always so intense, and everything within you felt like it burned in his presence but you were terrified you were no better then the people who ruined his life before.

The frustration overcame as you wiped the water about to tear from your eyes away. Ever since returning to Jon, you felt as if you two were never on solid ground. Something always was in the way for both of you and maybe in fact it was never him, maybe you were the one always in the way and it tore even more at you. At this point you felt lost without Jon, but that felt unfair to him.

Unsure if it was really your voice as it spoke in your mind, but something dark in remains of a not to long ago torture, that whispered around you that you shouldn't have married him. You shouldn't have forced him into the kind of misery you were once terrified Robb was being forced into with you. He was happier when he was around people who weren't you, it was the only conclusion that made any sense.

Not even the feeling of Ghost coming to stand by your side made you alright.

“She's safe, I promise.” Sam had been endlessly worried the moment he could breathe after seeing Jon again. Asking about Gilly and Little Sam and Jon knew he had reassured him more then he could count already. But Sam nodded, and Jon smiled a little bit. “What were you even doing here in the first place, Sam? Read every book in the citadel already?”

Tilting his head with a small smirk, “Think I've read more books then you've even seen you whole life.” Both men chuckled, as he knew Sam looked in the distance to where he previously had seen you go. Stepping closer with a whisper, “So, that's really her? All this time, and she was alive?”

The peel of Jons eyes going down to nothing then forced back, gave way for the brightness in them to shine with a pain behind them. “It's not that simple. She's been through a lot, more then anyone deserves to..I just don't think she knows that yet.” Sam's face fell a bit, the two men given quiet space as Jon tried to keep himself steady. “The Boltons held her prisoner for a year. Did more to her..”

Jon was grateful that Sam picked up on the crack in the fading of his tone to not pry. Rare did he see Jon so easily overwhelmed in his eyes but it was there as soon as he looked back on it. “You of all people..married…why are you standing here talking to me?”

He tried to tell himself not to look, and he got as far as watching Ghost's distant figure making his way from the woods to where you were. “Because she's scared. She's scared she screws everything up, and I don't know how to make her stop thinking that.” Looking around, Jon could sense the need to go to you, and hated having to only trust in Ghost to keep you company after Theon had returned to assist in handling the rest of them. “I lost my temper on her and I know she'd rather say sorry to me as if it's her fault.”

He knew Sam had never seen him speak so unsure about you before, but Sam knew exactly what he felt. In his own way. “Do you think I had any idea how to talk to Gilly about her life before?” Jon looked up with an eyebrow raised in confusion as Sam elaborated. “Think about it, she was raised with everything Craster did to her, and I was raised in some fancy castle. I had no idea how to talk to her about that sort of thing before. But now, we only work as well as we do beacuse we're honest no matter what.”

“Thats different-”

“Is it?” Tilting his head, Jon easily felt once more that look Sam always gave when he thought Jon was being thick. Which wasn't uncommon some days. “So you got angry at her, you get angry with everyone you know. She's not unreasonable, talk about what happened and figure it out. You can't suddenly be worse at talking to your girl then I was with Gilly.” Jon glared at him, and the ease in which both almost shoved at the other in jest was comforting.

Looking back up to you, Jon was mostly just waiting out until you were alone. He wanted to go to you, but you had other people in your life who weren't just Jon. He felt that itching in his muscles begging to go to you, having to fight with not wanting to dominate every moment of your life just beacuse he hated being apart.

Sam luckily, whispered in distract, “So you really…someone actually…killed you?” Nodding slowly, Sam clearly had looked for something that would tell him anything but found nothing easy. “How..who.. when did..how did you come back?”

Jon however, knew there was much more to tell him later. Your name coming deeply from his lips, saying that you brought him back and he doesn't know how.

Ghost's silence gave nothing away as he stood tall by your side. The cold wind almost enough to make you shiver by now, but having lost sight of a large dark wolf in the distance you were watching, you begun to contemplate what you were to do next. But he moved as silently as Ghost did, the two White Wolves one in the same in that manner. You only realized you weren't alone when a warmth radiated heavy at your side. Your forearms resting flat against the stone looking out did Jon brush up against your other side.

Not looking at you, but as close as he could without invading your space completely. That pull was so frustrating, something that tethered your new lives so deeply making you yearning to give everything back over to him even if he didn't want it. But Jon looked over at you, and your name rasping deep from his lips did you feel that pull turn to something choking as soon as the sound hit your ears.

“I've been having dreams about you for months. More then what they used to be, things in your past I was never there for.” Your eyes flickered somewhat over to Jon but kept forward as he continued. “Something was letting me walk through your memories in my dreams and I never told you beacuse I had no idea what they were or if they were real. And I still didn't tell you beacuse you started having those visions and I didn't want you to worry.”

Your brows furrowed, but you kept quiet. The weight in your throat proving too heavy, and your limbs to weak to pull away from him. You wanted to lean into Jon further and sink into the alluring husk always entrancing you from his voice. But you stayed still. Letting him continue. “I'm telling you because I said I wasn't keeping anything from you, and that was a lie. Lord Howland said you told me as soon as you found out the truth about my mother for certain. I know you weren't trying to keep anything from me, you were trying to protect me from something you didn't know was true, and you never deserved to be yelled at for it.”

It was quiet, and you felt weak at not being able to stop the pressure in your head from choking your words in your throat. “You had every right to be mad, Jon. I knew telling you meant I was going to bare that towards me, and it wasn't your blame for it. I wasn't upset that you were angry at me. I was scared that..”

Leaning more to look at you, you shook your head as he prompted your name softly. “You were scared I didn't want you anymore, or that I didn't love you.”

On one side, you despised how like a weak little girl it made you feel. But that choking tore up and soon tears fell down your cheeks as you tried again shaking your head to deny it. But you felt unable to breathe at the idea and it strangled your fear into your blood, carrying it all over to take your body over as it wanted to collapse.

But Jon, only felt his heart break. You spent so much of your life and so much effort trying to be as calm, and well put together as possible and you so rarely let yourself feel things as raw as Jon did. But you were falling apart at the idea of what he said and Jon didn't give you the opportunity to doubt what he wanted before turning to pull you safe in his arms. This time your front to his, his hand moving to bury your face in his neck as he held you, trying to pretend he wasn't upset at how long you had been holding this in. The swiftness in which you fell into him.

He knew that insecurity was in you, and that doubt if you were good enough for him but it had never been as strongly upsetting until now. Voice somewhat muffled as he buried his face in your hair, feeling your own arms around his shoulders and back of his neck tightly. “Never think I don't love you, I don't ever want you thinking that. I've always loved you, and I always will.”

Letting a shaking breathe out, you barley whispered, trying not to give away how there were more tears then you wished to let fall. “I love you. It took me a little longer then you to get there, but I am trying to catch up.” Almost half smiling at the chuckle deep in Jons chest. His hand over your hair smoothed over it again and again, his other arm still wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you pressed to him.

Your own touch relaxing a bit as you eased up in how much you leaned into him for support, moreso now resting gently with him. “There is no catching up to me.” You hummed a questioning tone as he elaborated. “If you were as in love with me as I am you? We'd never get anything done, we'd never leave the other long enough to.”

Breathing out more of an airy laugh, Jon turned slightly to press a kiss to the side of your head. Not quite willing to let you go yet, yourself feeling that anxiety slip away more as you sighed deeply against him.

“I'm not used to it yet. How different it feels this time.” Pulling away only enough so he could move his hands to gently cup the sides of your cheek, he looked down at you in question. Your own hands sliding down to his chest and collarbones. “We were still in love before, we were happy with the other but it..it felt almost innocent compared to now.” Your brows furrowed as you looked at the nothing on the leathers of his armour. “Everything with you now is so..it feels too intense, like the moment I thought you didn't want me around I lost all purpose and I know that isn't normal.”

Tilting your head to meet up with his eyes, the grey shined beautifully in the starlight above. His face soft when so often it was harsh and rough as yet wide eyes and gentle expression as he watched you so close. “Maybe for us it is normal. We died, you and I aren't normal anymore.”

A weak but rather dry slip of, “Should we invite Lord Beric to this relationship in that case?” One hand on your cheek slipped down to pinch at what he could grasp at your waist with a smirk, pulling you gently back to him when you tried to flinch away. His hand covered the same spot, almost massaging his rough touch away. “No, you're right. You can't even handle when Tormund winks at me, I have no idea how you would deal with Beric seeing me-”

That time both of Jons hands moved, grasping at your waist as you laughed trying to shove him off you before he flipped you around. Holding you back against his chest, only this time soothingly as you looked out to the night. Your hands pushed up the material on his sleeve as you shivered, Jon tugging you back more firmly as you almost snuggled back into his warmth.

Perhaps it was a risk, but you wanted to know if he was alright without addressing too bluntly. “I know telling you would hurt you, but you deserved to know she had always been right there.”

Another good moment passed, and his voice was quieter then usual. “I don't know how to feel about it, or if I ever will. But I never should've yelled at you for it. I got mad and I took it out on you, when you've been through enough.” Trying to shake your head, softly telling him it was alright Jon held you tighter.

One hand more on your hip now to keep you against him, as the other trailed across your front and found the tear in your dress. Annoyed for a moment it was exposed, Jon wasted no time covering it with his gloved hand and running his thumb all along it. “He took her from everyone she loved, kept her prisoner, tortured her,” Swallowing harsh before his voice continued on a tad more strained. “..raped her. All he cared about was that she give him a child, give him a son and that's all she was worth. She could die after that, it didn't matter. Took her away from everyone who cared about her, and made that her only worth..”

Leaning back, you felt his head rest more against yours as he turned somewhat into your hair. Your voice soft in tones, “This is your life, Jon. He doesn't have to have any role in it. You had a father who raised you, and loved you. And now you know your mother has watched you your whole life. Watch you grow up from that wild haired little boy to a wild haired King in the North.”

Jon nuzzling the side of your head a bit as he softened his tone. “You know what the worst part about it is?” A hum in your throat answered for you, but it caught and choked on his next words. “I wasn't talking about what Rhaegar did to my mother..I was talking about what Ramsay did to you..” Jon must have felt you stiffen in his arms, moving one hand to tilt your head to the side enough that Jon could meet your eyes better. “I almost lost you the way I lost my mother, and then I blamed you for telling me…what kind of man, what kind of husband am I?”

Slipping one of your hands out to reach up and behind you, gently toying with the ends of his hair peeking through the strands fallen from having it up all day. His own on the side of your cheek now tilting you more in that same direction to lean down to nudge his nose against yours gently as you spoke. “You are the husband I chose, the man I love. There's nothing more too it, Jon. I've never been anything near a perfect wife, I would never expect you to be either.”

Were you both not wrapped up in the refusing feeling in your blood not to pull any bit away from the other, you might have rolled your eyes as he muttered faintly, “Would be weird if you expected me to be the perfect wife.” Pressing a kiss as much as he could reach from his angle, you wanted to turn to face him but he wouldn't budge. “I don't want you regretting giving up the name Robb gave you, to take mine. When I hadn't even had you for a week before I almost pushed you away for good. “

Biting your lip as your heart raced, you willed it to calm down but it simply never did as you leaned back up for another kiss. His softness letting you turn properly in his arms to cup both of his cheeks. One of his cupping your cheek and the other at your waist. Brushing against his lips as you spoke, “I've never regretted anything I've shared with you Jon Snow. And I never will. I just want us to have peace, for things not to try and tear us apart again.”

Once more sliding his hand to cup the back of your neck instead of your cheek, Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead. Leaning his own down to rest against it after as you both stood in the cool wind. “Then we make sure everything is out in the open. No secrets not between us, not anymore.”

Just as you nodded, it slipped out. He said no secrets, and you may as well give up your last one. “Gendry is my cousin. He's Robert bastard son, the last I'm aware is alive.” Pulling back Jon looked at you with sharp eyes as you shrugged with a half smile. “Most of my blood are all dead, he might be the only one left. He reached out to me, told me he was in Barrowton that's where I went when I left. I thought I ruined your life by telling you the truth of your family, so maybe I should try and at least put my own back together if I could.”

Only, he had one that beat yours. “Arya's in Winterfell.”

Your eyes went wide and Jon let out a genuine smile that had him pull you back, pressing another kiss to your forehead before wrapping you back in his arms. Mumbling into his neck, “It wasn't a competition, Snow.” You wanted to ask so many questions, but right now it didn't feel right. Right now, you and Jon just needed each other. Ghost having stood quiet at both your sides as a guard to keep any and all intruders from ruining your peace without even needing to be asked.

The North was quiet in that cold of night. Jon had not a clue what his place or purpose in his own family was anymore. But he could had Ghost by his side, his baby sister waited for him back in Winterfell, and he had you in his arms, nothing more holding you back from each other in pain or secrets. And Jon hoped, maybe right now, that was all the family he needed.

Jon's life with you, used to be so easy. But nothing was easy now and it wouldn't get any better.

It wasn't for many days did the raven arrive. Many places in the realm things were playing out precisely as planned. Some unexpected turns along the way but nothing they did not have the ability to manipulate, that was until the ink written on the paper told a story in it's facts.

So the spider had more plans then he ever let on, did he? This was not just one unexpected obstacle, this was a new contender to ruin everything. One Targaryean thought left but now two, but this was the one to fear. This one was already in Westeros and this one held the name and a father and mother drawing quick support from the downtrodden families and thus far, an attitude better then that of his acclaimed father or grandfather.

These plans did not work if they could not control the royals in charge. If this Aegon Targaryean were to take the Iron Throne everything would fall apart. The spider wouldn't let even a scrap of them back within the Red Keep if that were to come to pass.

So, there was only one choice. The second plan was to become the main plan for now. It was time once more to look North. The spies had done their job, kept them informed of the once dead Queen and your new bastard King. Tearing the couple apart through putting you at odds with each other was not working, and so other plans had been formed. But, there were not one raven scrolls to come to their attention that day. But two.

And it was the second telling that their second round of plans in the North were falling apart as well. It was going to be far harder to bring the North away from supporting you two by the sounds of it. Something needed to change, and they knew the answer. It was time anyways. To bring her into the fold. She was ready, they had made sure she was going to be ready should a more aggressive push be needed.

Coming down into the halls, calling out to where her beauty stood in the open floors below. “Alyane, sweetling. It's time for your lessons.”

She was going to be perfect. She played her role so well even now. This time, they would ensure this plan would be one that worked. Parting from the girl she was speaking to, her voice high pitched and obedient as if nothing out of the ordinary. “I will be right up, father.”

This one had to work. The bastard boy would be more impossible to influence or manipulate then his father ever was. Jon Snow had learned from Eddard Starks failures, and the longer he spent married to you, the worse that inability to manipulate him was going to get.

But as Alyane walked into the study, it was all too clear. She was ready to be told the truth about what he was doing, and this time they would succeed together.

After all, she was the best student he's ever had.

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

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

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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asongofmarvelanddc · 2 years

Text

Duty PT 4½: Robb's POV

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4753

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Robb is crushing underneath the weight of his responsibilities, and with his wedding looming, there seems to be no end to his plight.

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: I want to start by saying I am so overwhelmed by the amount of love this series has received while I've been temporarily away from tumblr. I haven't written anything in a while and coming back to see all your amazing comments honestly made me so emotional. I forgot how much I love to write, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reminding me. I wish this was part 5, but I've dropped a very (very) rough sneak peek of a future chapter at the end. I hope you enjoy 💞

"What is it?"

Jon is staring at Robb inquisitively. The two have been sitting in silence for some time. They were supposed to be breaking their fast, but Robb got distracted by a letter delivered to him by Maester Luwin. He’s been reading it intently over and over again, eyebrows furrowed as his mind races.

Robb looks up at the sound of Jon’s voice and folds the letter, putting it down to the side.

“Nothing,” he says, as he picks up his fork and attempts to resume eating, but finds he has suddenly lost his appetite.

Jon sits up properly now. He knows that something is wrong, but he doesn’t ask again. Eventually, Robb puts down the fork and balls his fists, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m worried,” he confesses, “Not one of these letters from King’s Landing has mentioned Arya.”

“She’s a child, maybe they just—”

“They claim to have two Starks,” Robb cuts him off sharply, “If that were true, they would make it abundantly clear.”

Sansa’s letter came shortly after their father’s arrest and imprisonment — her script, but clearly the Queen’s words. Robb expected to receive parchment covered in Arya’s blotchy scrawls not long after, but nothing ever came. It’s as if she was never in King’s Landing.

Jon is quiet as the implications of Robb's words dawn on him, “They wouldn’t harm her."

Robb stares off into the distance as he considers what the Lannisters might be thinking. Everything in him wishes he could know what is happening at King's Landing.

"No, I don't think they would," he finally mutters, briefly rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, "Not after Father."

At least that is what he is choosing to believe. What he has to believe in order to keep hold of any sanity that remains in him.

He's tired. Exhausted beyond comprehension. He barely sleeps at night because the thoughts in his head never quiet. There is always something that needs to be done, something that needs attending to, both at Winterfell and at the frontlines.

It's getting to be too much.

Robb sighs heavily and stands up suddenly. "Please, don't speak a word of this to anyone. I don't want Mother to worry," he says as he walks away, "I need to think."

***

More bad news.

A raven from the South carrying a stern rejection from Stannis Baratheon of Robb’s offer of allyship. Robb expected as much, but a part of him had hoped that the old man would put his pride aside and choose to stand with the North.

“He must be confident that he can defeat the Lannister army in battle,” Maester Luwin suggests. There is no such explanation in the short scroll.

“Whatever it is,” Robb says through gritted teeth as he balls up the piece of paper in his hand, “It doesn’t help us.”

He walks over to his desk and sits down, his knuckles pressed together under his chin. His mind is racing.

“What happens if Stannis usurps the throne? Will you bend the knee?”

Robb looks up at Maester Luwin with hard eyes and sets his jaw. “The North will never again bend the knee to a Southern king. Not while I live.”

A look of pride quickly crosses Maester Luwin’s face. Their conversation is interrupted when Catelyn enters, unaware that her son is not alone.

“My Lady,” Luwin bows in greeting before leaving the two.

Catelyn moves closer to the desk where her son is sat shuffling through some papers, “You look tired.”

“There’s much to be done,” Robb shrugs as he reads yet another request for men from one of his Lords to maintain the upkeep of their holdings.

“It can wait,” she says as she places her hand over the letter and lowers it.

Robb looks at her in confusion and she smiles, nodding to the window just behind him. He turns to look outside and sees the sun going down over the castle walls.

“Right.”

He sighs and gets up to put on his cloak, ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. Catelyn stops him as he heads for the door.

“Before you go, I just want to know that you understand the importance of the commitment you are making tonight.”

“Of course I do. I haven’t taken this decision lightly,” he turns to face her, “We need the Myrrton's army now more than ever."

Catelyn nods slowly, “And what about her? Lady Y/N?”

“What of her?”

She cocks her head to the side, “Do you care for her at all?”

“I care for her well-being, as any husband should his future bride,” his voice is unemotional and steady, “I’m sure she’s finding all of this just as difficult as I am.”

“Perhaps even more so."

Robb frowns in confusion. He knows that whatever you may be feeling today is no different to what he himself is going through. In fact, considering all he has had to sacrifice, he believes that not even you could know how he feels.

"More so?"

Catelyn nods in response.

“After you say those words tonight and become man and wife, you will wake tomorrow in your childhood home, where your family and all the people you grew up with reside,” she says, “Lady Y/N, however, will not return home. Her mother and father will be gone. She will have no one but you."

"Many have been through the same," Robb says in a stoic manner, "I'm sure she will cope."

"But she is not like most young brides, is she?"

Once again, Robb frowns. His mother is staring him dead in the eye as if there is something unspoken yet understood between them, but he can't discern what she is hinting at.

"Mother, what are you talking about?"

She raises a brow. “As much as they say women like to gossip, we know the truth — men talk too," she walks closer to him, "I’m sure you’ve heard the stories from your men. About what happened to her in King’s Landing.”

Robb rolls his eyes dismissively and turns to head for the door, "That's all gossip."

“From what her mother tells me, that isn’t the case."

He stops in his tracks. The whispers he's heard are not simply 'unpleasant' experiences with a suitor – they are downright horrific. There was never a moment when he believed any of those stories could be true.

"I couldn't begin to imagine how she must feel," Catelyn's voice is barely above a whisper, "Yet again marrying for her family’s benefit to a man she doesn’t know and doesn’t trust. She must be terrified.”

He can't help but think back to the one time you spoke of King's Landing, just after he threw these very rumours in your face. The way your voice wavered...

Robb blinks and looks to the side as he starts to feel the unmistakable pit in his stomach caused by guilt.

"I saw her outside just now," Catelyn continues, "She'd just been sick, the poor girl. She claimed she was feeling ill, but I know better."

"I don't know why you're telling me all this, Mother," he turns around to face her, just a hint of exasperation in his tone.

"Do you remember when I asked you to be Sansa's escort when she wanted to visit a friend outside the castle walls? You couldn't be angry with me so you took it out on your sister," she chuckles as Robb rolls his eyes.

"What has that got to do with my marriage?"

Catelyn pauses for a moment before stepping closer to him. She presses her hands against his cheeks and brushes his curls out of his face.

"I know you're not happy about this, Robb. And I wish you could choose to marry someone you truly love," Robb looks away as she speaks, "But this is where fate has led all of us. You don't have to be happy about it, but you must accept it. Promise me, Robb."

Robb knows his mother is right. This marriage isn't as simple as moving pieces on a map, it is not some great battle strategy. After tonight, he will have another person whose care and wellbeing is his sole responsibility.

He may find you snobbish and slightly condescending, and he knows there is not a chance on this earth that he could ever grow to love you as his wife...but this arrangement is not your fault.

He can't keep punishing you for not being the woman he wants.

"I promise, Mother."

***

The serenity of the Godswood offers little comfort to Robb.

Never has he been so sure of a decision, yet so torn apart by it. The moment he goes through with this marriage, he gains an advantage against the Lannisters. Yet, one thought still lingers at the back of his mind: when the war is over, will any of this have been worth it? Will he wake up beside you one morning and regret this night?

Robb is pulled out of his thoughts by Catelyn mouthing something at him from a distance. He can't make it out, but she forms a smile and nods encouragingly, so he mirrors her expression and plasters a smile on his lips.

Before long, two figures begin walking down the cleared path towards him. At first, you're shrouded by shadows and the bodies of some of the guests on either side of the aisle. When you come into full view, your arm is interlocked with your father's as you stare straight ahead.

For a moment, Robb wonders if you see him standing underneath the Weirwood tree, but just as the thought crosses his mind, your gaze falls on him.

As soon as he locks eyes with you, his smile drops. Almost immediately his jaw clenches and his breath catches in his throat. It's a purely uncontrollable reaction, but it happens and Robb finds it strange.

The glistening of the silver on your dress, the unusual braids in your hair...and the look in your eyes when they meet his. It's a look that mirrors how he feels.

He hasn’t been so struck by a woman’s appearance in some time, but the eyes don’t lie, and it is undeniable that on this night, you look beautiful.

As you approach, Robb steps forward, his hands clasped behind him, “Who comes before the gods?”

“Y/N of House Myrrton comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods.”

Lord Cillian seems unsure when he speaks. Robb doesn't know whether the uncertainty in his tone is due to being unfamiliar with these words, or hesitant about this whole affair.

“Who comes to claim her?”

Robb clears his throat as discreetly as he can before lifting his chin.

“Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. I claim her,” he announces, “Who gives her?”

“Cillian of House Myrrton, her father.”

Robb watches as Lord Cillian's tone softens when he speaks to you, “Lady Y/N, will you take this man?”

Robb grows anxious as you seem to hesitate before answering, then, like you'd been snapped out of a trance, you whisper something to yourself. His brows furrow as he questions whether you've given the answer they're all waiting for.

Before he has a chance to ask, you look him square in the eye and answer, "I take this man."

Robb is slightly intimidated by the intensity and decisiveness in your gaze. He holds his hand out to you and waits until you slip your hands into his before guiding you towards the heart tree.

As he drops to his knees at the base of the tree, the rest of the world melts away, and it's just him and the gods. But he can't seem to find any words for them.

He has uttered the same prayers over a thousand times in the last year. That his sisters will return home safely and those involved in his father's murder will be brought to justice. None have been answered yet. Still, he whispers the prayer again, choosing to have faith in the gods.

He raises his head only to find that yours is still bowed, your eyes closed. There's a desperation in your posture that makes that feeling of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach again. So, he bows his head yet again and asks the gods for one more thing; that the two of you find peace in this arrangement, in whatever form that takes.

You rise to your feet together and Robb immediately steps closer to you, eager to be done with this ceremony. He removes the maiden cloak that shrouds you and hands it to the man standing behind him, swapping it for the Stark cloak.

As he brushes your hair over your shoulder and out of the way, an unfamiliar scent wafts up his nose, warming his whole body. It’s earthy and spicy, yet sweet – unlike anything he’s ever smelled before. The kind of scent that would be overpowering most times, but you’ve clearly applied just enough to be inviting.

He inhales deeply before resuming with his task.

When you turn to face him, the Stark cloak now shrouding you, Robb suddenly feels the weight on his shoulders grow heavier. He was never one to think about marriage when he was young. Still, he never expected to feel so devoid of any love towards his wife. To look at her and see nothing but yet another burden.

He holds out his arm to you and leads you out of the godswood, the whole time questioning what he could have done to offend the gods and be cursed with such a life.

***

Why isn't she eating?

Robb has been kept entertained for most of the night by his bannermen – it's hard not to be when they're all drunk and feasting. But every time he glances in your direction, he finds you sullen and staring into space, and the thought returns.

Why isn't she eating?

He's noticed it since you arrived at Winterfell. You rarely join them for any meals, and when you do, your plate remains untouched. At the engagement feast, you spent most of the time playing around with your food, but he can't recall seeing you eat any of it. It didn't concern him at the time, but he's finding it strange now so he decides to speak up.

"You haven't touched your stew."

Oddly, you jump at the sound of his voice. He sees confusion in your eyes when you turn to look at him, so he nods to your bowl to reiterate his statement.

"I, um...I'm not very hungry."

It's the first time since the day he met you that you have sounded unsure of your own words. The stutter and the way you avoid his eyes – he knows that you are hiding something.

He leans closer to you in an effort keep the conversation private. "My mother told me that you were sick earlier," he wonders if the mild concern he's feeling is evident in his voice, "Did you have anything to eat after?"

Robb is shocked when you shake your head no.

"Then surely you must be hungry?"

Again, Robb is baffled when you simply shrug in response. He can't read you at all – not that he has ever been able to. In all honesty, it is one of the most frustrating things about you. How is he supposed to be a husband to a stone wall?

Still, he knows that any person who has no food in their stomach must be hungry, whether you confess to it or not. He reaches for a bowl of fruit on his side of the table and places it in front of you. You may dislike the Northern food, but even a man who has enjoyed an entire feast would not say no to a juicy fig.

"You should have some, if you like," he nods to the bowl, but your expression remains unsure. "I wouldn't want my new bride starving herself on the first night," he teases you in an attempt to ease your apparent discomfort.

That seems to do the trick as he notices the glimmer of a smile – a genuine one – on your lips. Satisfied, he takes an apple from the bowl and leans back in his chair, watching you finally reach for something to eat.

He notices how carefully you inspect every fruit, discarding the bruised ones. He's not even sure you realise you're doing it. You have the same look on your face that you did when you walked towards him in the godswood, just before he caught your gaze – in a trance.

"I should've said it earlier, but you look beautiful tonight."

As soon as the words leave his lips, he questions whether he should've said it at all. He meant it, of course, but not in the way that it might come across. His only intention is to be kind. You're his wife now after all.

"Thank you," you smile, though Robb sees the way your brows furrow ever so slightly in confusion, "You look very handsome as well."

You look away before he can even respond and the conversation ends there.

The festivities continue as expected with singing, dancing, and arguments that arise and resolve themselves within seconds. Some of the men tell their most entertaining stories of battle, and Robb is happy to see you laughing at some of their jokes.

Drunk and exhausted, Robb is just about ready to retire for the evening when he hears the words he's been dreading all night.

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!"

In seconds, the women seated nearest to the High Table are on their feet and pulling him towards them. They paw at him, doing their best to undress him as they march him through the Great Hall and towards his bedchambers. He can't discern what is going on through the cheers, the laughter and the comments – it's all too much. By the time the girls arrive with him at his chambers, all they have managed to remove is his tunic.

"Be gentle with the poor girl," one of the women winks as she leaves the room.

Before long, he hears more bellowing laughter and jeering coming down the hall. The men carrying you lower you to the ground at the bedroom doors and push you in before making a swift exit.

Seeing you almost completely undressed and shrinking into yourself, Robb suddenly feels guilty again. The bedding may have simply been an annoyance to him, but it was clearly more than that for you. He shouldn't have let it happen.

He watches as you awkwardly look around the room, avoiding looking in his direction. Robb doesn't move a muscle, fearing that you're seconds away from dashing out of the room.

Without any warning, you spin on your heel and turn your back to him. The sudden action makes Robb jump, but still, he makes no move to approach you.

He's frozen in a way he's never been before, not even before his first battle. Sweat begins to form at his hairline as he wipes his clammy palms on his trousers. He tries to convince himself that it's the heat from the fire burning that's causing this and not his nerves.

He takes a step forward, wanting to reassure you that he won't touch you, even if it's what is expected of you, but the words seem pointless when you lift a hand and lower the strap of your chemise. You do it slowly, and Robb can't tell if this is hesitation or some kind of seduction. Either way, he doesn't know how to respond.

Once the straps come off, the gown slips and reveals what's hidden underneath.

Robb lets out a gasp.

Instantly, he regrets it, knowing he's given the wrong reaction. As you rush to pull the straps back on, Robb struggles to digest what he's seen. Three long and thick scars – one starting from the nape of your neck – jagged and stretching down your back. The wounds look mostly healed, but they can't be more than a few months old. He doesn't have to think about it to know exactly where they came from.

Joffrey.

That is all the proof he needs to confirm the rumours were true. And worse, he fears that this isn't the worst of it. Those scars could've been made by anything from a knife to a whip. The thought of someone doing that to you makes him feel sick.

Slowly, you turn around to face him. He can tell that you're hurt by his reaction, but he can't bring himself to comfort you. He doesn't know how. Just as he thinks you're about to scold him like you've done before, you do the unexpected and begin to approach.

Once again he freezes, and when you stop right in front of him, Robb is unsure what he's supposed to do. You're looking into his eyes like you're searching for something, but he doesn't want to mistake your intentions for anything more.

That doesn't matter because those intentions are made clear when you lean in and press your lips against his.

It's...different.

Your lips are soft, and your scent – that scent. For a brief moment it makes him forget where he is, who you are, and he leans in, arms sliding around your waist. But when your arms wrap around his neck, he misses something.

Elyse. The way her fingers would find their way into his curls.

That's all it takes to snap back to reality. This isn't her. And all of a sudden, she's the only thing on his mind. Her dark hair, her kind smile. The memory of her forms a lump in his throat.

He's tried. This whole night he's tried to put her out of his mind, but even now in what should be the most intimate moment between a man and his wife, Elyse is the only woman he can think about. The guilt returns.

Is that all this marriage will ever be? Constantly feeling guilt and shame whenever he looks at you, knowing Elyse is the only person who will ever occupy his heart?

He feels a wetness on his cheeks and salt on his tongue.

Is she crying?

“Wait, wait. Stop,” Robb suddenly says as he pulls away from you, your cheeks stained with tears, “Are you alright?”

You look at him like you're confused. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

He raises a thumb to your cheek and wipes away a tear. "You're crying," he says, almost dumbfounded.

The second he says it, you gasp and quickly wipe your cheeks in embarrassment. Robb simply watches in disbelief. You plaster a smile on your lips as you continue wiping away the tears that seem to be beyond your control. You're stumbling, fighting to keep up that stone wall that Robb has been so desperate to see beyond.

“Ignore me,” you chuckle nervously, “My emotions sometimes get the better of me.”

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I do if I’m to have even a smidgen of comfort tonight.” You're smiling, but there's pain in your voice where you're trying to convey conviction.

Robb softens as he cocks his head to the side and looks at you, “Y/N…we’re not obligated to do anything tonight.”

“What?” your eyes widen ever so slightly, a glimmer of hope appearing.

He shakes his head and turns his gaze to the bed. “You don’t want to do it,” he says, “And without meaning any offense to you, I don’t want to do this either.”

In truth, he can't even entertain the thought of being with anyone but Elyse. Not that he intends to confess that to you.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips once the weight of the consummation is lifted from his shoulders.

“What should we do then?” you ask after a moment, “Shall we return to the feast?”

Robb has been awake since first light. He can't think of anything worse. “It has been a long day for me," he yawns and stretches his muscles, "So unless you desperately want to return to the festivities, I would like to turn in for the night.”

He walks to the bed and collapses on top of it like a sack of flour. The room grows. dimmer as you go around the room blowing out the candles, leaving only the fire from the hearth to illuminate the room.

You climb into the bed on the other side of him and turn your back to him. He knows you're still not used to the Northern cold, yet you make no move to adjust the blanket despite the fact that it is barely covering your body.

Without a word, he lifts himself off the blanket and slips under it so that there's enough for you. Then he tucks a hand under his head and lets his eyes flutter closed.

“I had my own Elyse.”

His eyes snap right back open.

He turns his head to face you even though you can't see him, shocked beyond belief and rendered speechless.

“He was an armourer I met simply by chance,” you continue, “He was my comfort and my peace during the hardest period of my life. And I loved him for it.”

Just like that, everything makes sense. Your callousness about his feelings for Elyse. The words you threw so casually in his face.

"You're not the first to have loved and lost. You won't be the last."

At the time he knew you were speaking from experience, but he never expected a confession.

He quickly turns his gaze to the ceiling when he realises that you're turning to face him.

“Was it like that for you?”

The memory of the days after his father's death wash over him like a wave. Never had he ever felt such deep sorrow. It burrowed into his bones like a disease, and he never thought he would be rid of that pain.

Not until Elyse.

When he turns back to you, your eyes are staring deep into his. The fire from the hearth is casting a warm glow over your face, but it's the moonlight from the open window just above your heads that is reflected in your eyes. His gaze lingers for a moment before he answers.

“Yes,” he admits, “Elyse and I…After my father’s death is when we grew close.”

You nod and look down at the sheets.

“When I left King’s Landing, I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to him,” you whisper, voice trembling, “I wanted to thank him for making me happy after everything that happened.”

Robb’s eyes stay on you, but not once does he speak. He doesn't know which is worse; having to see the person you love everyday, knowing you can never be with her, or never getting the chance to even say goodbye.

He looks at you and knows that your heart is no more available than his own. Even though you don't say it, it's clear as day in your eyes – you haven't let go of your armourer, and you probably never will.

Without saying any more, you turn to face the other way, whispering a quick, “Goodnight.”

This is the rest of his life, he realises. A wife who will forever be just out of arms' reach, and the woman he loves never to be his again. An undoubtedly cursed existence. One he can do nothing about.

Ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest, he turns to face away from you.

“Sleep well.”

***

SNEAK PEEK FOR ONE OF THE FUTURE CHAPTERS:

“I’m not happy, and I’m not content.”

“Happiness and contentment are a luxury most of us do not get to enjoy," he snaps.

“Some people deserve it. After all they’ve been through.”

Robb scoffs and turns to you. “We’ve all been through terrible things. You’re not the only one.”

“I know. I know the tragedy you’ve endured,” you climb off the bed and walk towards him slowly, “Even now I see how much burden you carry on your shoulders.”

You take his hand in yours and look into his eyes, “Don’t you owe it to yourself to try and find any happiness?”

Robb’s gaze lingers as he considers it for a moment. A brief moment. Then he snatches his hand from hers and heads for the door.

You're shocked by this, and suddenly a burning anger begins to swell in her chest. A rage that felt a lot like hatred. Hatred because of how selfish and stubborn he was being.

“I know you’ve heard the rumours about Joffrey and I,” he freezes in his steps as you speak, “Yet you’ve never asked me about them.”

Slowly, you walk towards him and stand in front of him, blocking the door. “You’ve also seen the scars on my body — scars that not even my parents have seen. And you never asked me about those either.”

You cock your head to the side as you look into his avoiding eyes. “Why is that?” you ask in a genuine tone, “Do you not want to know? Or are you afraid to know?”

He avoids your eyes as you wait for him to speak, to say anything. But he never does.

“You won’t ask?" you raise a brow, "Very well. Then I shall ask you a question of my own.”

“Have you ever been violated?” you ask through gritted teeth, “And I don’t mean someone taking your home or your father away from you, I mean personally violated. To have everything stripped away, to be broken down into a shell of nothingness. No fight, no dignity, no will…to do anything.”

You stand on your toes and lean forward until your shaky breath is fanning his face and your rage-filled eyes are burning into his, “That is what Joffrey did to me.”

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