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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Robb Stark*Dream Part Two

Pairing: Robb x f!reader

Summary: After finding out the reader had a special dream about Robb, Robb decided to show the reader what he had dreamed about her.

Warnings: Smut, dom rob, f receiving oral, 18+

Word count: 3214

Masterlist Here

Part 1 Here

You knew as soon as you left the table Theon or Jon would tell Robb exactly what kind of dream you had had but you also could not take the smirks from Theon and Jon awkwardly looking away from you. Once you realised there was no escape from Robb finding out you decided distance was the thing you needed. You excused yourself and began to make yourself far too busy for any of the boys to start their ruthless teasing.

The worst of it was Robb didn’t even know it was about him. But you knew so now you had to act like no one knew encase he figured it out. So instead of risking it you did every task you could imagine over the next three days.

You showed Sansa some new embroidery stitches, helped Arya with her aim in archery, talked with Lady Catelyn about her upcoming nameday celebrations. At one point you even ended up in the kitchen peeling potatoes till Ned happened to see you and insisted it wasn’t necessary of his Lady ward.

After being ushered out of the kitchen you ended up walking to the courtyard, looking for Bran to entertain. This was around the time that Jon and Robb went horse riding so you assumed you would be safe. You soon realised you were wrong as Robb and Jon rode into the courtyard earlier than expected. As Robb began to dismount his horse you saw Bran and Rickon playing and quickly walked over. Robb obviously noticing your pace changed dismounted even faster to catch up, Jon on his heels.

“Lady- “Robb started but you crouched down to Bran and started talking over him.

“Wanna play hide and seek?” you tried to sound innocent, but you could feel Robb staring at the back of your head.

Bran and Rickon instantly perked up at the idea as the older Starks and you typically did not want to play their childish games. “Yeah!” Bran said as he ditched his toy soldiers on the ground.

Rickon was fast behind, “All of you?” the little shit inquired and unknowingly ruined your plans.

“Yeah, little man!” Robb said as he gave his youngest brother a fist bump to celebrate and gave you a knowing smirk. “Jon you in? “Jon must’ve read Robbs mind because he instantly agreed. “Should we do teams? If so, I call dibs on (Y/N),”

You stood up, feeling the colour drain from your face, but thank fully Rickon was not all bad as he quickly pointed out, “We can’t! There’s an odd number,”

“Rickson’s right. Every man for himself,” you agreed causing the youngest Stark to now fist bump you. “Who’s counting?”

“Jon,” Robb said before anyone could object.

Jon sighed but reluctantly went along with his brother’s plan. As Robb was whispering something to Jon you started to back away, giving yourself as much distance from Robb as you could for a head start. Bran quickly explained the rules of how they played hide and seek, you couldn’t hide in bedrooms or in the woods, as then told Jon to count to one hundred.

By the time Robb had turned around you were already at the opposite side of the courtyard and Jon then began to count. Jon had barely said the letter one when you sprinted for the stairs. You would never usually cheat when playing with children but this was a matter of life and eternal embarrassment so you ran as quickly as you could to your chambers, knowing how much of a stickler to the rules the starks were.

You were panting like a wet dog when you arrived at your chambers and flung the door closed behind you. As you took your cloak off to try and cool yourself down you heard footsteps in the corridor outside. You weren’t as clever as you thought.

As quickly and silently as you could you began to slide under your bed, hearing a knock when you were finally underneath. Would Robb really come into a lady’s chambers without permission?

Turns out he wasn’t as much of a stickler as you thought as you heard your door slowly open and saw his boots walk in. Robb gently closed the door behind him, not wanting people to think he had ill intentions or his mother to find out, and he began to walk into the room before suddenly stopping.

You cringed as you realised you weren’t wearing the cloak anymore that you must have dropped in your hurry. There was no point in trying to run now as Robbs boots walked over to the bed before he crouched down, his head peering under the bed and right at your face. A wolfish grin was placed on his face as he reached under and grabbed your arms to pull you out from under your own bed like a child. “Funny finding you here,”

You grumbled under your breath as you pulled yourself up to sit beside Robb on the floor next to your bed. “You cheated,”

“You cheated first.” He shot back but then the grin fell from his face, “You’re avoiding me,”

“Prove it,” you said, more stubborn than any other in the North but it was to no avail.

Robb rolled his eyes, “I just pulled you out from under your bed,” he said before asking, with hurt in his eyes, “Did I do something?”

Your heart clenched as his puppy eyes stared into yours, not realising before how he would feel by your sudden avoidance. You realised you had only made things worse in your attempts to avoid it, “No you didn’t,” you said before flinging your head back with a groan, “It was me okay? I was embarrassed so I wanted to hide until you forgot about it or something I don’t know, okay?”

Robb began to chuckle at your now flushed face, “Its okay,” he said as he took your hand, “It happens its alright. Theon was just wanting to wind you up about it but its whatever. Its not like we can control it,”

“Yeah, but it was just weird cause like,” you started to say but you realised there was no easy way to explain it, “I didn’t want you to know,”

Robb paused for a moment, and you could feel the clogs turning in his head, “Why just me though? Were you avoiding all of us or…?” he asked, trailing off as he looked at you.

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Just you,” you finally whispered, and you felt his hand slip away from yours.

Reluctantly you opened your eyes to see Robb had turned himself to face you straight on, a smirk playing on his gorgeous lips, “Who was your dream about?” he asked the dreaded question, and you felt your cheeks grow hot. His eyes widened as he saw your flush and how your eyes would look at anywhere but him. “Was it about me?” he asked with a new strange shine in his eyes. You glanced at him before nodding and closing your eyes, waiting to be laughed at. Robb chuckled but it wasn’t at you. It was deep and perfect, but it wasn’t mocking or amused. “And what was I doing in this dream?”

You opened your eyes as you felt him lean in closer, his face only a couple inches from yours, his breath fanning your face. “You don’t think im some creep?” you asked, ignoring his original question.

“I’d be a hypocrite if I did,” Robb started as his eyes roamed your face and down your body, his hand moving to rest on your thigh, “But you didn’t answer my question love,” he said as you felt a wetness beginning between your thighs that his hand was so close to yet so far away, “What was I doing to you in your dream?” he asked as his eyes landed back on yours.

His gaze was even stronger than that in your dream and you struggled to speak at first, “It was more me doing things to you,”

“What kind of things?” Robb leaned in closer, his lips grazing your cheeks, “I’d like to dream about them too,” he said as his hand moved further up your clothed thigh to land on your hip, “Maybe try some out as well if you’d like,” his hand gripped your hip tighter and you felt your stomach flutter.

“I was on my knees,” you started but Robb cut you off by gripping your hip and pulling you to straddle his thighs which caused your dress to ride up. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as his hands found the small of your back, “and you were on the bed,”

“What was I making you do dove?” he asked as he took your chin into his fingers, forcing you to look him in his eyes while you admitted your secret dreams to him.

You cleared your throat and tried to look away, but he held your head in place, “You were making me suck your cock,” you finally whispered, and you saw the wolfish glint return to his eyes.

“Is that so?” he said, and you could only nod. Robb grinned as he leant into whisper in your ear, his lips on the edge of it and his breath tingling your face, “Did you like it?”

“Yes, my king,” you said without even thinking about it and now you were face to face with Robb again, his nose brushing off of yours, “Sorry its just- “

“Is that what you call me? In your dreams?” he asked causing your face to flush and eyes to water before you nodded. Robb placed a kiss to your check, “I like that,” he said as he brought his hand to your face, his thumb rubbing against your check, “Don’t be so sad love. I’ve had my own dreams too,”

“You have?” you asked, and Robb nodded.

“So many nights I’ve had dreams of you,” he admitted as his lips fell to start littering kisses from your neck to your jaw as he spoke, “of how you would look underneath me. I would imagine how you would look as you came undone around me,” he said which caused you to shiver and you could feel his smirk as he kissed your jaw before pulling back to have his lips hover over yours, “I’ve dreamt of kissing these pretty lips of yours,” he said as his thumb moved to rub over your bottom lip like he had in your dreams before, “Would you like that?” he asked and you quickly nodded.

Robb wasted no time in closer the gap between you. His lips crashed onto yours and they felt better than you had ever imagined. They were soft but had become slightly rough from the cold northern air. They moved perfectly in sync with your own and the need for air did not seem to matter anymore. His hands crept down to land on your waist, pulling you closer, and on top of his clothed member which you could feel hard under his clothes. Your hands found his chest, feeling how toned he was through his tunic and wanted nothing more than to pull it off. Robb must’ve sensed this as he only broke the kiss to remove his tunic, leaving him in his undershirt, before he latched his lips to yours again.

This time he began to nip at your bottom lip for entry and you were no one to deny your king whose tongue slipped in as soon as you allowed. You moaned into the kiss when you felt his hips buck beneath you, his member rubbing against your clothed wet spot.

Eventually you had to break for air and the feeling of Robbs warm breath against your lips drove you crazy. “Would you like to know what I see in my dreams?” he asked, and you nodded, unable to speak from your desperation.

“I see you and me,” he started before pulling you to your feet from the floor, turning you around to pull the laces of your dress lose, “in my chambers with you in your pretty little shift,” he said as your dress fell to the floor. You shivered at the cold and the touch of his fingers on your back. Robb spun you to face him, your hands resting on his chest, “In bed,” he continued, this time pushing you to fall back on your bed, “kissing you,” he said as he began to crawl over you, leaving a trail of kisses from your thighs to your chest to your throat, “everywhere,” he finished as he kissed your lips again.

Your hands tangled into his hair as one of his moved to squeeze your breast causing you to gasp into the kiss allowing him entrance. You moaned as you felt his finger tracing around your nipple over your thin shift. “I always wondered what you’d sound like,” Robb broke the kiss to say as he continued his teasing, his fingers pinching it in just the right way to cause your whines. “Or how you would feel,” the loss of his hand left you are wishing from more, but your body shivered as you felt it brush up your thigh before settling where you wanted him most. He traced a finger up it is causing you to whine and him to chuckle, “Did you ever dream about this too?” he asked, and you nodded but this time he tutted, “Use your words,” he said as he began to place kisses along your jaw.

“Yes, my king,” you said, and he finally slid his fingers in, stretching you as he did. You moaned as you felt them move into you and more when he began to curl them inside of you.

Without thinking your eyes closed but this was not good enough for Robb, “Keeps your eyes on me or I’ll stop,” he warned and you quickly opened them to see him gazing at your face, “Good girl,” he said as he began to curl his fingers again, “I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours while I fuck you with my fingers,” he said, his thumb now moving to press onto your clit, a whiney moan leaving your lips. “You’re such a pretty little whore, aren’t you?” he said causing the knot in your stomach to grow.

“Thank you,” you whispered causing his smirk to grow, “Please don’t stop,” you begged.

“Do you want to know what else I want to know?” he asked, and you told him yes. “I always wanted to know how you tasted,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat at the idea, “Do you think you deserve that? To have your king in between your legs kissing you in unspeakable ways?”

“Please,” you begged, his fingers still curling inside of you, “I’ll be good please. I promise, I’ll be good for you,” you moaned, and Robb placed a firm kiss on your lips as he removed his fingers from you causing you to whine.

Robb trailed his kiss away from your mouth to kiss down your body finally arriving where he had told you about, “Your so impatient,” he chastised, his breath fanning over you causing you to shiver. Without warning Robb licked up your wet cunt and you let out a strangled moan as your body instinctively pulled away. Robb used his hands to press your hips down in the bed, “Let me take care of you,” he said as he licked again, another moan falling from your lips, “my queen,” he finished before his tongue began its assault on your core which he was now lapping up and moaning into. His vibrations sending shivers down your spine as the knot in your stomach grew huge at the knew sensation of his tongue. He moved his head to line his nose up to your clit, nudging against it with every lick causing you to almost explode at his touch. His tongue began to move in and out of you causing you to bring your one hand out of his hair and up to your mouth to try containing your moans. “You taste so fucking good,” he muttered against your core, “and you sound even better,” he said as he moved his fingers to your hole, diving in and out, curling with every thrust, so his tongue could move to focus on your sensitive nub.

Even your hand struggled to contain your moans when Robb began to suck on your clit. You felt an exploding pressure in your stomach which you struggled to contain but when Robb grazed his teeth against your clit you felt your whole-body tremor beneath him as you came undone from his mouth. You were almost gasping for breath, your eyes wet from the relief that flooded your body. You felt Robb pull away from your core as you stared at the ceiling panting like a dog.

His breathing was also heavy as he came up, his face now covered in your wetness causing you to blush, but he paid it no mind when he placed a strong kiss on your lips. “You are so perfect,” he murmured against your lips. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of you,”

“Good,” you said, your hand moving to hold his face in your hand, “Because I will never get enough of you,” you said as you felt an overwhelming tiredness wash over your body.

“You should rest love,”

“But you didn’t- “you tried to argue but Robb would not hear it.

Robb pressed a kiss to your forehead, “You can return the favour later sweetheart,”

You lay with Robb in a perfect silence, almost fully drifted off when you heard pounding on your door, “We know you’re in there!” Bran yelled through the door, and you felt all the colour drain from your face.

You looked at Robb who was also stark white, “You cheated!” Rickon yelled.

As they tried to open the door Robb sprang out of bed to hold it close. You could hear Jon in the background and quickly scrambled under your covers. “Tell them I fell and hurt myself,” You whisper shouted to Robb who quickly nodded and yelled for his brothers to wait, and he’d let them in. he quickly shoved his tunic over his head and opened the doors as innocently as he could.

Rickon and Bran stalked into the chambers with Jon reluctantly following behind, making sure he was not about to be scarred by the sight in front of him. Rickson’s face dropped in confusion, “Why are you in bed?”

“She fell- “

“-up the stairs- “

“- I had to help her here- “

“-we didn’t cheat,” you finished your story which thank every lucky star Rickon believed. Bran clearly had his doubts but was too young to understand what Jon knew had happened. However, at Robbs suggestion they get to play with his real sword Bran dropped the subject. Lady Catelyn may be upset when she finds out what Robb had let them do but you both knew it would be far worse if she found out what you had done moments before they had barged in.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @twilightrows

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cdragons · 2 months

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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #robb stark x fem reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #game of thrones fix it #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #dark robb stark #dark fic #my writing

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justagirlwholikesadam · 1 year

Text

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING : RATED M, Smut, and Death

A/N: This will be my first GOT fanfic, I will being going along with the plot on the show with my own twist. I haven’t read the books so if I get something wrong or the plots are all over the place. Let it be. My story my rules. Please note comments are welcome. Enjoy! -L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

Chapter One

Jon stood by the door as he watched the most feared and best fighter in the seven kingdoms worried at your bedside.

He was lost for words when he saw his sister, Y/n laid on a wagon being pulled by Sandor on his horse. The band of brotherhood stood behind them. A couple of wildings had found them around the perimeter and were about to hold them in a cell when Sandor told them about you.

“We have Y/n Stark of Winterfell. Where the fuck is her brother?” He hissed at the men then pointed at your body on the wagon. They were allowed to enter.

Jon thought you were dead after Sansa told him that you left King’s Landing with the hound during the battle of Blackwater. Jon was cautious of the hound. He heard the stories of Sandor and his brother. Sandor told Jon how you became ill during the trip to Castle Rock. You had a horrible fever during the journey. You became more ill and passed out.

Jon watched as the maester looked over at you with Sandor standing in the corner watching. Jon looked over at Beric and Thoros who stood behind the door frame of the room. Jon sensed they had come to care for you very much. He still felt unsure, you were Jon’s older sister. His favorite, he would tell everyone. You had been there for Jon since he was a young child. Catelyn had hated him for being a bastard while you had nothing but love for him.

Jon walked outside the room to know more about the situation. He asked Beric and Thoros about Sandor and you. Beric told Jon how they met both of you. They tried to convict Sandor for his crimes along with his brother's.

“Y/n told us everything as she begged us not to fight Sandor.” Beric said.

“They had escaped from King’s Landing after the Battle of Blackwater. She even had asked us for any news on Sansa or you. Sansa didn’t want to join her.” Jon nodded, they were telling the truth. Sansa had come to Castle Black as well after she escaped from Ramsey.

“Your other sister was there too, Arya.” Thoros mentioned Jon.

“What happened? Why isn’t she with you?” Jon asked, looking at the men.

Thoros shook his head and sigh. “Girl was mad at her because Y/n refused to leave Sandor behind. Told Y/n to fuck off because she was with the man that killed her friend.”

“Arya ran away. Sandor and Y/n tried to look for her but it was no use. Little girl is quick. Afterwards they left too. We found them again after the murder of septon Ray.” Beric told Jon how they got Sandor and you to join them and travel up here.

“Why is he so attached to her?” Jon asked but no one spoke. He looked over at Beric, who looked away from his gaze. Thoros did not speak as well and it made Jon very angry, all the horrible possibilities ran through his mind of you being alone with him. He’s the brother of the mountain, the murder and the rapist.

Jon was quick to unleash his sword as he turned into the room. Sandor was watching you as the maester checked your pulse when Jon walked inside the room and pushed Sandor against the wall with the tip of his sword digging into his neck.

“Jon!” Beric yelled as he walked inside.

“It’s not what you think.” Beric told Jon before looking away from Sandor’s harsh stare.

“What are you to my sister?” Jon screamed as his eyes narrowed. Sandor didn't say anything but stare at Jon.

Sandor didn't know what to say. How can he tell Jon that he’s in love with you? He didn't want to fall in love with you at first, the eldest daughter of Eddard Stark but he did.

“Well?” Jon shouted as Ser Davos entered the room when he heard the commotion from outside. The older man went up to Jon and spoke to him trying to get him to calm down.

“Jon, this isn’t the time or place. Your sister is what matters” Ser Davos said, looking between Sandor and Jon.

“Jon, please.” Ser Davos pleaded.

“If you want to kill me do it then, bastard. Kill me and when Y/n wakes up tell her what you did.” Sandor said. He knew his words worked when he saw Jon's eyes soften when he mention you.

“Take him to the cell.” Jon said, removing his sword from Sandor’s neck then walked away from him. Jon stood by your bedside as the frighten maester kept looking at you.

Ser Davos signaled Sandor to the door. Beric and Thoros watched as Sandor took one last look at you and walked away following Ser Davos.

Sandor doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the ceiling of the cell while he laid on the cold bench. He tugged on the thin blanket around his body, he felt horrible and tired. He needed a warm bath and a bed. He needed you. Months traveling with you and sleeping next you had him missing your company and your warmth. He was missing you. Sandor was about to drift into sleep when he heard someone walking towards his cell.

“Are you ready to tell me?” Sandor looked over at the sound of Jon’s voice.

Jon stood in front of the door looking at Sandor through the metal bars. Sandor rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up to sit. He spread his legs as he leaned back against the wall.

“You're not the same as before, bastard.” Sandor admitted as he stared at Jon. Remembering the naïve look on Jon’s face when he visited Winterfell with King Robert. Now, Jon stood in front of him as a man. He can tell Jon had done and seen some shit that can change a person.

“Have you changed?” Jon asked. Sandor did not respond.

“I can just send you back to King’s Landing. I know Cersei would like that.” Jon said, making Sandor nod knowing all too well the bounty on his head.

“Beric said you’re close to Y/n. Do you care for her?” Sandor looked away from Jon cursing silently at the one eyed man for telling his business.

Sandor looked back at the sound of keys. Jon opened the door and walked inside, sitting down on the bench across from Sandor who had a surprised look on his face.

“I thought she was dead after the news of my brother and father. I wept for her.” Jon said, looking down at his hands on his lap.

“She wept for you too.” Sandor added. “She missed you especially during her stay at King’s Landing. She prayed for you.”

Jon let out a sad smile. “She told me you were close with her. Closer than anyone.”

Jon nodded, “Aye, we were. She never treated me or called me a bastard. Always treated me like her brother. Sansa and their mother would fight over that.” Jon stood quiet for a moment as he looked over at Sandor.

“Thoros said you had protected her in King’s Landing. That's what Y/n told him. You protected Sansa and her.”

‘Bald cunt yapping his mouth.” Sandor mumbled.

“That bald cunt saved your life.” Jon answered back.

Sandor frowned at Jon. “I wanted to execute you but he was the first to vouch for your name. They all did, the brotherhood without banners.”

Sandor couldn't believe they had vouch for him. All he did was shouted and called them names but of course, you were always there to calm him down and ease the tension. Sandor knew he had to tell Jon the truth. He had too because he needed to get back to you. He wasn't going to leave you alone not after everything both of you have been through.

“She started to talk to me after your father and sisters arrived at King's Landing.” Sandor said and shook his head with a small smile.

“Couldn't get the girl to shut up or quit following me. She kept telling me people there were all snakes. She didn't trust no one.”

“She trusted you.” Jon said. Sandor couldn't stop thinking about you in King’s Landing. He could remember you crying over Sansa after she was humiliated in court, when the news of Robb and your mother's death arrived. He frowns at the memory of Joffrey slapping you as he showed you and Sansa your father’s head on a stick.

“I wish I could have protected her more.” Sandor blurted out. “Joffrey had it out for her when your father died. He hated Sansa more since she was weaker.”

‘What did he do to Y/n?” Jon asked as he felt the uneasiness coursing through his body.

Sandor took a deep breath before answering. “He hit her around, he showed her the head of her father on a stick. He threatened to have her raped.”

“Did he ever…” Sandor shook his head at Jon’s question. Rage filled Sandor at the though of it.

“Fuck no. I would have murder everyone who tried to touch the woman I love."

Jon’s eyes widened in surprise at Sandor's answer. He couldn’t believe it.

“You love her?” Jon watched Sandor who looked down at the ground as his cheeks turned pink from the sudden outburst.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sandor spoke. “A dog like me with someone like her. I have told her many times. I’m not good for her, I told her my kind don’t get to have a woman like her.”

“Your kind?” Jon asked as rising a brow at Sandor.

Sandor looked at Jon with a look and pointed at himself. “A killer, a hideous monster. Fucking got nothing to offer her.”

“It’s funny.” Jon said with a smile. Sandor was about to curse Jon out when Jon spoke out.

“Father wanted Y/n to get married for so long and she kept refusing. She practically went down on her knees, and begged him not to marry her off. She never liked any man that father brought home. She would tell me how she doesn’t trust them and she would rather be dead than be with any man she didn’t trust.”

“If my sister trusted you. It meant she liked you. You even offered her protection.” Jon said as he rose up. Sandor looked up at him as Jon walked closer to him.

“You offered her something that many women wished they had. Do you love her?” Sandor nodded at Jon.

“Can I trust you that my sister would be well and happy with you?” Sandor quickly rose and nodded.

“Aye, I don't know why she loves me but she does and I finally have the balls to admit it now. I couldn’t before but now seeing her all laid up and not moving. I regret not saying it sooner.”

Jon smiled at him for a second. “Alright.” He said as he began to walk to the door of the cell. He looked over his shoulder at Sandor.

“You can see her if you want. The maester went to check up on her again.” Sandor followed him but froze when Jon pointed a finger at him.

“You hurt my sister, Clegane. I’ll kill you.” Sandor let out a chuckle at Jon’s threat and followed him.

-After escaping King’s Landing -

If someone had told Sandor that he would be with a lady in the future. He would have laughed and cursed them out. Sandor sleeping with someone with a name would have been the last thing he would have done.

However there you were laying next to him. You’re on your back in a deep sleep. Hair tousled, bite marks on your neck and chest were red on your skin. He felt like a creep watching you sleep. Your chest softly rose up and down with each breath you took.

Your nipples were hard from the chill air in the room. Your lips were slightly parted, Sandor couldn't help but raise one of his hands up to your face, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. Same lips that were around his cock not so long, same lips that kissed him. Sandor was the first to be up since he was a light sleeper. Both of you were finally able to rest well for the first time in a long time since Sandor and you fled from King’s Landing. It’s been a few weeks since Sandor finally found a friendly Inn. No one knew who both of you were. He could finally fuck you in a bed instead against a tree or on the ground.

He couldn’t help but remember last night's events with you as he stared at your sleeping body.

You, Y/n Stark from Winterfell, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard and Catelyn Stark had confessed your love for him. He wanted to say it back, but he couldn’t. He was scared. Scared that it wouldn’t be true. When he didn’t say it back, you kissed him and told him that he didn’t have to say it back. You told him the day you arrived at King's Landing and officially met him was the day he plagued your mind in a good way.

When everything went to shit, your father was killed. Sansa and you were tormented by the king. You tried to endure the tournaments from Joffrey so Sansa didn't have too but Joffrey didn't like it one bit. You wouldn't crack down and cry in front of him like Sansa did. You held your head high as he had his men beat you down. If it wasn't for Sandor who brought Tyrion Lannister to your aid, who knows what would have happened. As the maester tended your wounds Sandor was in the corner of your chambers along with Tyrion who was giving you his deepest apologies. It fell to deaf ears though, Tyrion knew that when saw you looking at Sandor. He looked over at the bulking man to see him looking back at you as well.

During the Battle of the Blackwater, Sandor came back inside the castle mid war and looked for you. You were with Sansa in her room when he found you. He begged for you to come with him. Sandor vowed to return you and Sansa back home. You trusted Sandor but Sansa didn't. She was afraid of him and had said that Stannis wouldn’t hurt her. Sansa hugged you when you were contemplating on whether you should stay or go but Sansa had seen how Sandor looked at you. She saw how you were with Sandor. You weren't afraid of him and as much as she wanted you to stay with her. She knew Joffrey would have kept bullying you into an early grave. She gave you one last hug and held you tight. She kissed your cheek and told you to leave right away.

Sandor held on to you as you rode in front of him. The journey for the first couple of days was the hardest but both of you managed. You were the first to kiss Sandor. He took you on the ground that night between the trees. He had gotten a cloak from the knight he killed the day before. He laid it on the ground and you gave yourself to him.

Sandor was lost in thought as he stared at you.

“I can feel you staring.” You mumbled in a sleepy tone as you shifted on bed.

You opened your eyes and smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?” You asked Sandor as you brushed his hair out of his face.

“Aye.” Sandor said, kissing the palm of your hand.

“But It's a bit hard when you're there looking like that.” Sandor told you as you stretched your arms over your head, arching your back.

“Looking well, I hope.” You said as you let out a yawn. You hummed when you felt his large callous hand on your stomach. The tips of his fingers caressing your skin. You feel his hand go down between your legs.

“Sandor.” You moaned as he leaned down to kiss you while he rubbed your clit. He grunt in your mouth as he felt your slit wet. He dipped two fingers inside of your cunt, he can feel his cum from last night still inside.

“Such a tight wet cunt.” He said as he pulled away to kiss your neck. You laughed as his beard tickled you. You held on his arms as he fingered you softly. He knew you were sensitive from the night before.

His thick fingers were soaking wet as he fingered you. The sound of your sopping pussy echoed through the room. You spread your legs wider for him.

“Such a dirty girl.” He said as he pulled his lips from your neck. You blushed hard from his words.

The bed creaked as Sandor moved between your legs. You looked up at him as you spread your legs for him. Sandor watched as your mouth dropped when he slipped inside of you. He leaned down to kiss you as he started to thrust inside of you. He moans in your mouth when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulder, tugging him down and closer to you. You felt him moan your name against your neck as he fucked you hard.

“Fuc-ck.” You moan as you hear him groan, he held you tight as he continued to fucked you. You felt his balls slap your ass as he fucked you.

“Cum in me, Sandor. Please. Please.” You whispered in his ear. Sandor turned his face to look at you.

“Please. Inside.” He groans as he grabs your face to kiss you. You slip your tongue inside his mouth as you come on his cock, tighten your walls around him.

He wasn’t far from his climax. Sandor looked down at your pretty face and he came. He let out a curse as he felt you cumming deep inside of you. Sandor was on cloud nine when he came. He didn’t notice you cupping his face pulling him for another kiss.

“Little wolf, you’re gonna kill this old man.” Sandor whispered against your lips making you smile.

“What a way to die.” You told him softly looking at him moving his hair out of his face. Sandor chuckled at your words. He was about to get up when you pulled him closer to you.

“Not yet. Please. Stay inside of me longer.” You asked him. He obeyed, just like every time you ask him to stay longer inside of you. He lays his head on your chest. His scared cheek against your chest. He shuts his eyes, enjoying your hands on his back.

He calms down while he hears your heartbeat. He liked this feeling you gave him.

“I love you.” Sandor opens his eyes but doesn’t move. He felt you kiss the top of his head.

“I know I said it last night but I meant it. I love you. I’m yours and you're mine but if you don’t accept my love then leave. Leave me here and go away.”

Sandor doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to move. No matter how many times he told you that he’s not good enough for you. You didn’t believe him. You kept being with him and sleeping with him. You kept making him feel warm inside.

You made him feel loved. Sandor was never religious, but he believed that the new and the old gods blessed him by giving you to him. He knew it was true since you didn’t leave him when the Brotherhood without Banner captured him and you. Arya was there with them. Arya was furious when she saw him with you. Arya told you that Sandor killed her friend, the butcher’s son. Beric wanted to charge him of his brother's crimes but couldn’t. You were there to ease the tension and cried out, telling them that Sandor isn’t like his brother.

Sandor was charged for the murder of the butcher boy. You saw the face Sandor had when Beric’s sword lit up in flames. You knew he was afraid of fire, since Little Finger told you and Sansa. At the end, Sandor won the duel to the death, slicing Beric’s shoulder almost in half causing him to die.

You held Arya as she cried and screamed when Sandor won. Arya and you froze when the drunk priest, Thoros, brought Beric back from the dead. Sandor saw how you begged Arya to join you and Sandor.

“You’re going to get kidnapped or worse. Stop being a fucking idiot.” Sandor had yelled at Arya.

“I hope you die.” She yelled at Sandor. She was about to run away when she looked back at you with an angry face. “You too.”

Arya ran away from you with no luck finding her Sandor and you decided to keep going on the road. During the war of the Five Kings, you heard Theon Greyjoy turned on the Starks and seized the undefended Winterfell since Robb wasn’t there. You wanted to hurt him, your father took him in and now your home is gone along with both of your younger brothers. Weeks later people were talking about the Frey’s wedding and that Robb and your mother would be at the Twins.

Sandor held you close and wouldn’t let you go when both of you made it to the Twins. He looked around frantically as all the Stark’s soldiers were being killed in front of him and the sight that horrified him the most caused you to scream. He held you that night as you wailed. You remained silent for a few days and it scared him so much.

“Look at me.” He told you when you finally spoke.

“I’m not gonna not let anything happen to you. Okay?” You nodded at him.

“I swear it.” He promised as you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him.

So, he wasn’t going to move and leave you but fuck, he was so scared to say it back to you that he loves you too because he thought if he said it back that he would wake up and all of this would have just been a dream.

It was evening when both of you woke up again. Sandor had gotten up and dressed. He kissed your forehead and told you that he would ask the keeper for a tub to get you a bath. Neither of you didn’t spoke about what happened. Both of you didn’t have too, it was mutual understanding. You were his and he was yours. After taking a bath, Sandor walked with you to the tavern to get supper.

He was nervous as he ate his food. He didn’t know what to do next. Sliver was running low and he didn't know where else to go.

“Sandor.” You called out, he looked at you and nodded.

“We should go to my Aunt Lysa. We can go to the Vale, she'll accept me there. I’ll tell her how you saved me and how I need you to guard me while I’m there.” You told him. Sandor had to admit it was a pretty good idea but.

“She will know who I am. Knowing that cunt of the king, he probably has a bounty on me.”

You shook your head. “I’ll beg her if I have too. Lysa is the only best chance we have.” You told him while grabbing his hand.

Sandor agreed, you were right. “Alright little wolf, eat up. Tomorrow morning we’ll ride.”

You gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. You got back to your plate as he took a gulp of his ale. Little wolf, was something he started calling you in King’s Landing. He called your sister, Sansa, little bird. You missed her so much, you didn’t always see eye to eye with Sansa but you took the role of the older sister seriously when your father died. You held her as she slept and helped her whenever Joffrey tormented her.

Morning came and both of you were out on the road. You were grateful that Sandor knew where he was going. He pointed at certain mountains and rivers telling you the details and how to know where to go. At one point you felt incompetent with him, you didn’t know how to hunt or make a fire. After making a fuss about it and telling him you should learn something. He told you a lady shouldn’t know how to gut an animal or know how to start a fire but he agreed.

He laughed at you when you threw up as he showed you how to clean a kill. He snickered when you cursed at the pile of woods and moss when you couldn’t light it up. It was a few days when Sandor and you finally made it to a stream under a bridge. You sat by the rocks across from him. Sandor stood next to Stranger as the horse greedily drank from the stream.

Sandor was about to speak when he heard someone riding on the bridge. An older man along with his daughter rode on a small wagon.

You gave Sandor a look when he answered them sarcastically and with an attitude.

“Forgive my husband. We’ve been traveling for so long. We are just letting our horse rest for a bit.” Sandor looks over at you when you call him your husband. You didn’t notice the blush on his face. You gave a smile to the farmer and his daughter.

“Your husband is a soldier?” The farmer asked, looking wearily at Sandor. The farmer saw the armor and the sword strapped on Sandor’s hip.

“Yes, he fought for House Tully.” You answer quickly before any profanity came out of Sandor’s mouth.

You gave Sandor a toothy smile when the farmer told you to follow him since any man who pleaded for House Tully is welcome. He will provide a roof for the night and some food. Sandor watched as you talked to the young daughter, Sally. The little blonde girl was a shy thing but smiled at the idea of you helping her cook.

“Any kids?” The farmer asked as he watched his daughter laugh at the small joke you told her.

You looked over at Sandor not sure what to say. “No, not yet but if we do. We hope it’s a girl who looks beautiful like you.” You said looking at the little girl who giggle at your compliment.

Dinner was quiet for a bit after Sandor cursed at the man who was praying for so long. You begged for forgiveness at the farmer and told him to finish as you gave Sandor a cold glare. When he was done you served him and his daughter first. You wanted to curse at the farmer as well for praying so long. You were fucking starving but you knew you had to act nice. You weren’t going to get kicked out until you had some of the rabbit stew you helped the little girl cook.

Trying to ignore the slurping sound that Sandor made as he drank the soup straight from the bowl. The farmer asked Sandor about the fight at the Twins and mentioned how people were calling it The Red Wedding. You instantly felt ill to your stomach. You couldn’t forget the image of your headless brother with the head of his wolf sewn onto. It made you scream when you first saw it and made you mute for a couple of days.

“Are you ok?” You looked up from your stew when you heard Sally, the little girl speak.

You felt Sandor’s warm hand on your knee under the table as you looked over at her. It was his way to comfort you, a way to show you that he's here with you and he won’t let anyone hurt you as he promised. You placed a hand over his, giving him a squeeze.

“Yes, sweet girl. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You told her, taking all the strength in your body to give her a smile.

That night the farmer let Sandor and you to the stable to rest. “You can cry if you want.” Sandor said as both of you laid. He had taken off his chest plate and was under a bunch of hay and a blanket.

You nodded at his chest as you felt tears rolling down your face. Sandor rubbed your back as he let you cry. You cried for your brother Jon and your family. Sandor didn’t make you feel bad for crying. He knew you loved your family, it was something he never experienced. Sandor tried his best to remember the last time he cried. He couldn’t remember, whenever he was feeling sad he drank his feelings away.

You finally calm down at the sound of the rain and Sandor’s heartbeat. His body heat warmed you as the night got chilly.

“Are you going to work for him?” You asked Sandor remembering how the farmer asked him if he wanted to work for fair wages.

“Not sure yet.” Sandor told you.

It was morning when you heard screaming. You woke up and looked around the stable. You quickly got up and saw Sandor wasn’t there with you but Stranger was. You grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around you as you ran out of the stable to the small cottage. You stopped when you saw Sandor coming out of the cottage with a pouch in his hands. He didn’t realize you were there until he finished counting the coins. Sandor stopped in mid step when he saw you.

“What did you do?” You asked him.

“We needed the silver.” Sandor told you. You shook your head.

“Not like this. It’s not right.” You snapped at him.

“We can stay here for a little while. We will help around the farm.” You tried to reason with Sandor. You knew both of you needed the sliver to make it to the Vale but taking it away from a father and his daughter in these times was not right.

“For fuck sake Y/n.” Sandor cursed loudly causing you to jump. It’s the first time he has yelled at you.

“He’s weak. He can't protect himself or her. He and his daughter will be dead come winter.”

“He fed us. He took us in. He didn’t have too. He’s a good man. We can’t do this.” You told him while following him when he started to walk towards the stable.

“Dead men do not need silver.” Sandor shouted and you felt like crying. You grabbed him by his arm. Sandor looked at you angrily.

“I thought with everything you been through that you fucking knew how the world works. How many Stark’s they have to behead before you figure it out?” He tells you. You let out a gasp at his harsh words.

Sandor had admitted what he said was a shit thing to say. He was upset and the look on your face when he mentioned your family killed him. He was going to walk away when you grabbed his arm again.

“I’m not the same stupid girl you met in King's Landing.” You told him as you walked in front of him.

“I know how things work in this world, it was beaten in me. Don’t you remember?” You grabbed his hands with yours feeling the pouch of silver.

“With all the beatings I had to endure and all my family members dying one by one. I refuse to do this.” You told firmly, standing your ground in front of Sandor.

“Just because the world is shit doesn’t mean we have to be like it. I know we need it, my love.” Sandor saw your eyes filled with tears. His chest tightens at the nickname you gave him.

“But they need it more. They don’t have someone to protect them like I do. They don’t have the experience of surviving like us. Please, if you can’t give them the silver back then do it for me.”

Sandor stared at you for a minute then nodded. He'll do it for you. You let go of his hands, he was about to walk back to the cottage when he looked over his shoulder with regret in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” Sandor said to you then walked back to the house.

You quickly walked back to the stable, grabbing the reins on Stranger. You petted the horse softly as you led him out of the stable. The horse obeyed, you smiled as the horse was finally getting used to you. You knew there was no way in the seven hells that the farmer was going to let you and Sandor stay after what he did so you started to get Stranger ready to ride. You kept petting him with a smile.

Sandor told you before escaping Kings Landing that Stranger wasn’t fond of people but you knew with some love and patience that the horse would be fine around you. You laughed to yourself as Stranger reminded you a lot of Sandor. You saw Sandor walking back from the cottage. It was quiet as both of you continued the journey to Vale.

Sandor didn’t mention the farmer and the daughter. He went inside the cottage to see the daughter crying over her father as he lay knocked out on the ground. The girl let out a sob when she saw Sandor walk inside.

“Hush girl.” Sandor snapped at her before dropping the pouch of silver on the table.

“Sorry.” Sandor mumbled before leaving the cottage and shutting the door behind him.

You had officially thought you were cursed. You had to be cursed with everything going on. Aunt fucking Lysa was dead. Sandor watched as you took a deep breath and walked away. He froze and the rest of the knights of Vale. When you cursed fuck and shit at the sky and began to kick at the small rocks on the ground.

“Can’t catch a fucking a break.” You mutter to yourself. You were tired, hungry and your ass was sore from riding. You smelled like sweat and your hair was starting to get greasy.

You made it back to the horse with Sandor following behind you.

You stood by Stranger with your hands on your hips as you looked over at the mountains. You didn’t know what to do now. You turned around to see Sandor who had a tired look.

“You think the gods are punishing me?” You asked Sandor as you remembered something that occurred with you aunt Lysa when you were younger.

“What for?” Sandor asked.

“I did something bad when I was younger to Lysa. She had a dog. Ugly little shit and kept yapping at me. It never liked me.” Sandor chuckled at your story fully interested in what you had to say.

“She told me to take it for a walk around the bloody gates. It wanted to kill me, Sandor.” You said with a sigh.

“I ran and ran. Little shit followed me, chasing me around until I tripped on a rock before the little shit could stop. It ran off a cliff.” Sandor laughed at the face you made.

“You think the gods are punishing you for killing that devil dog?” Sandor asked, walking towards you. His hands gripping your hips as you lean against him.

“If what you say it’s true. Then you did the world a favor for killing that little devil.” You sense the sarcasm in his words and roll your eyes. You laid your forehead against his chest with a sigh.

Sandor needed a bath as well. He smelled like sweat, the dirt and the trees. It reminded you of your father whenever he came back from hunting. You remembered your mother yelling at you when you jumped in your father's arms whenever he came back. He would laugh and tell you that he would get your dress dirty but you didn’t care. The smell of nature made you feel at ease.

“What now?” You asked.

“What about your brother Jon?” You looked up at Sandor. “Castle Rock?” He nodded.

You knew women weren't allowed in Castle Rock, you never mentioned it before but Jon is your last resort.

“I won’t let them hurt you there.” Sandor was quick to say knowing what was held in Castle Rock. Murders, robbers, and rapists.

“I know.” You said with a nod. You were so grateful to have Sandor with you.

“I take back what I said about the gods punishing me.” You told him, making him raise his brow up at you.

“They gifted me you, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor shut his eyes as you hugged him. He wanted to make fun of you for thinking that the gods gifted you a man like him. A man who was a killer but he didn’t say anything. He kept hugging you for a while.

It was just a few days after the Vale, Sandor and you were setting up camp. Sandor was pissing behind a large boulder as you washed his knives. Sandor had hunted a rabbit, you were excited since it was going to be your first time skinning it alone. He mentioned that he should start hunting for more since both of you were going to travel up north. The weather was going to get colder and that meant less animal to hunt.

You finished washing when you heard someone riding by.

“Sandor!” You shouted as you saw two people on horses making their way to you.

You shouted his name again as a tall blonde woman got off her horse and walked towards you with a shorter man behind her.

“Seven blessings.” She greeted you with a smile. You heard Sandor coming behind you.

“I’m Brienne of Tarth and this is Podrick Payne. We are looking for the bloody gates.”

The man behind her dropped his own smile and said “That’s Sandor Clegane. The hound.”

The woman frowned and looked at him then at you. Her eyes widened when she saw you clasp your hands together in front of you as your mother has done before when she was with her.

“You’re Y/n Stark. The rumors are true then.” You frowned.

“What do you want?” Sandor said, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“The hound ran away from the fight in King’s Landing and kidnapped Y/n.” Her eyes landed on the love bite on your neck as she spoke.

“I swore to your mother that I will bring you home. I swore to bring all your sisters back home. I swore to protect her as well.”

“You didn’t though? My mother is dead.” You snapped her as Sandor looked at Brienne, up and down. His eyes stopped at her sword.

“Are you paid by the Lannister? Are you here for the bounty on me?” Sandor asked. You quickly grabbed one of his knives that you washed on the ground and held it.

You weren’t going to let them take Sandor away from you.

“I’m not paid by the Lannister.”

Sandor scoffed as he walked towards her. “No? Bullshit. I know what Lannister gold looks like. I've seen it all my life. Tell me where did you get that sword?”

“Jamie Lannister gave it to me.” Brienne answered him, Sandor looked over his shoulder at you. He was right.

“The bloody gate is 30 miles. Be on your way now.” You told her.

“Y/n! I swore to you mother to the old and to the new gods that I'll keep you safe and away from harm.” You shook your head at her.

“I’m not going with you.” You yelled.

“You fucking heard her. She is not coming with you.”

“She is.” Brienne hissed at him. Both of them took their swords out. You looked over at Podrick who was ready to run after you.

“Valyrian steel.” Sandor said, looking at her sword then up at Brienne. “I always wanted some.”

“Come with me Y/n. I will keep you safe. Tell me if this man forces himself on you and I’ll kill him. I’ll take you to safety.” Brienne said, looking between you and Sandor.

“Safety! Brienne of fucking Tarth, you really are a dumb bitch. Where the fuck safety at? Her entire family is dead, Winterfell is gone. There is no safety. If you don’t know that then you’re the wrong person to watch over her.” Sandor yelled.

Brienne scoffed then looked at you over his shoulder. Brienne knew you had to be so afraid of the hound that you wouldn’t even ask for help.

“Is that what you’re doing? Watching over her or using her for your pleasure? You fucking dog.” Brienne fumed, looking back at him with disgust.

“I’m fucking watching over her.” Sandor answered, ignoring the fact that Brienne was stating that Sandor has been forcing himself on you. It wasn’t true. Sandor wasn’t like that.

Sandor wasn’t going to let her take you away from him. Brienne was the first to swing, Sandor blocked her and yelled over his shoulder for you to run away and hide.

You did what you were told. Podrick quickly followed you. You kept running as you heard Podrick call for you. You heard the grunts and sound of swords clanging against each other. behind you. You hid behind a tree, you held the knife in your hand as you heard Podrick pass by you. You waited for the coast to be clear and ran back to the campsite.

You waited for Sandor to come back after a few minutes the sun was about to set and he still wasn’t around. You felt dread fill you as you began to walk around the cliffs in hope of finding him, you stopped when you saw Sandor’s sword on the ground. You lifted the heavy weapon and saw blood on the grass. You carefully walked by the edge of the cliff and looked down.

You were about to cry when you saw Sandor at the bottom of the cliff. You dragged the sword back to camp and quickly began to pack up.

“Come on.” You told Stranger as you got up and rode down the hills where Sandor was at. You got off and ran to Sandor, he hasn’t moved.

“Sandor!” You shouted dropping down to your knees at him. Sandor sighed as he opened his eyes to see you crying over him

“What do I do?” You cried out as you ripped the hem of your dress to wipe the blood off his face.

“Leave.” Sandor hissed as he tried to push you away from him.

“No.” You shouted with tears running down your face. “I have to get you help.”

“I’m going to die! I’m going to die because of that tall bitch. You need to leave me here. You need to go.” He croaked out in pain. He felt like crying because he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“Remember what I told you. Don’t stop for no one. Keep a weapon near you.” He listed the things for you to do to be safe. He was worry for you. The feeling was heavy on his chest, the thought of you alone traveling up north scared him and thought of never seeing you again pained him more then what he felt from his injuries.

“I’ll help you up. You ride while I walk.” You ignored what he said as you tried to pull him from his arms. Sandor hissed in pain.

“I can’t fucking move. My knee is fucked.” Sandor said as you looked down at his knee. You shut your eyes at the gruesome sight of his bone sticking out.

“Fuck! Sandor! Please tell me what to do?!” You sob looking away from his leg at him.

“Kill me.” Sandor whispered.

“No.” You shouted at him. You shook your head frantically.

“Y/n. I’m done for. It’s over.” He yelled at you as he looked up at the sky, tears rolling his face.

“Look at me.” You sternly said, you carefully leaned over cupping his face with your face.

“I'm not leaving you or killing you. You can’t leave me. I love you, Sandor.” You cried to him. Sandor let out a whimper as he started to black out from the pain. The last thing Sandor felt was your lips against his.

Next Chapter ->

#sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor x reader #gamesofth #gamesofthronesfan #rorymccann #rorymccannfanfic #smut #xreader #plschecktags #thewolfamongmen

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otteropera · 1 year

Text

Home (Jon Snow x Reader)

A/N - Only took me, what, like three months to finish this request? I kept coming back to it and re-reading and changing it but I finally FINISHED IT! The wonderful @pastanest requested this one so shoutout to her, if you are thirsting for Jon Snow (like me) GO CHECK HER OUT!!! She is an amazing writer and a wonderful person <3

Warnings - blood, RAMSAY BOLTON, violence... its game of thrones tbh

Word count - 5.7k

The fire had gone out weeks ago. No one who came in bothered to replenish it with wood, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do it, with my wrists chained to the floor. I'd had a lot of time to think about things. About my past, about Sansa, about what led me to this moment, about Jon.

I found that my mind went wandering to him quite often.

Nineteen years ago, after Robert’s Rebellion ended, many reunions were had. Fathers saw their children and wives saw their husbands. It was a sigh of relief for people who had their loved ones taken away, forced to fight the Mad King. My mother waited with baited breath, staring at the horizon everyday for months, praying to all the Gods that she would see him in the distance, finally returning to her. She held her budding belly with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe that she was living in a world without him.

She later passed away on the birthing bed.

If it weren’t for the wet-nurse that was able to arrive so quickly from a town over, I wouldn’t have made it. When word got to Eddard Stark that I was in fact alive, and without parents, he was quick to get me over to Winterfell. I don’t remember my life before the Starks, and I don’t have much of a need to. I befriended the Stark children and was welcomed into their home with open arms. My father gave his life in service to the realm, they felt it was the least they could do. From what Lord Eddard remembered of my parents, they were utterly and wholly in love.

Sansa and I clicked when we were younger. Although I was a few years older than her, we got along very well. We would brush each other's hair and put it in pretty braids, we'd giggle when the stable boys would flirt with us, and she would tease me for my crush on Jon. Once the two of us were of age, I was assigned as her lady-in-waiting. It was sort of like being Sansa's ‘official friend’, which wasn't hard. It really didn't change much; we got to spend all of our time together.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could go back to those days. When we were younger, we'd help sneak Arya out of her room and run down the corridors to the kitchen to steal any lemon cakes that were left from dinner. I was almost certain that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn knew what we were doing, but let us have our fun when they heard the laughter from the kitchens late at night.

"What are you doing?"

Jon stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. Arya, Sansa, and I stilled, crumb-covered mouths tightly shut. I wasn't sure if it was our lack of sleep or the definite sugar high, but Arya burst out laughing, spewing bits of cake over the table, while Sansa and I did our best not to copy her, covering our mouths and stifling our laughs. With my quick and shy glances to Jon, I could tell he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face.

"I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bran."

Bran was notorious for stealing sweets. I hoped that wherever Sansa had escaped to, she got to eat as many lemon cakes as she pleased. It had been months since she got away from Ramsay’s hold, and sometimes I wondered if she would leave me here for good.

It was an awful thing to think, I knew that, but Ramsey knew how to get under my skin (literally) and drill some awful things into my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done to Sansa. Thankfully, he could go days without bothering to torment me, which usually meant that I didn’t get to eat either, but I was more than willing to trade that for some time away from Ramsay. The room that I’d been confined to was small and drafty, from what I could guess used to be an extra storage room for food, with the old flour bags and rotting potatoes. They were my bed most nights. Though I have to admit, it’s a step up from the cell outside with the dogs. Ramsay had been keeping me there until Sansa found out and refused to eat until I was moved to an actual room. She even got me a makeshift fireplace in an old cooking pot.

I was convinced that the only reason I was able to stay sane was by staying in my mind. Thinking of ten years ago, when I was growing up here with Sansa, Arya… Jon. When I was safe and happy and took everything for granted.

There was some irony in it. The place that I grew up in, that allowed me to build the friendships and relationships that I had, that allowed me to be free of the pain of growing up without a family, was then the same place that kept me from being with mine.

The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had chained me here. Ramsay knelt in front of me, placing down a bowl of stew. One glance at it and I was salivating. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, all steaming gloriously in the bowl in front of me. That was… odd. I’m not one to turn down a hot meal, especially when I hadn’t eaten in days, but I knew the games Ramsay played. I knew that there was… something else to it. Ramsay sat on the floor across from me, with that sick little half-smirk.

“It’s rude to refuse food from the Warden of the North,” he commented, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“He didn’t put this in front of me. You did.”

Ramsay let out a dry laugh, not letting his smile fall. I only managed to get that look off his face once, and I paid for it. However, I still found myself accepting the challenge of knocking Ramsay’s ego down a peg.

“I see you’re in a fine mood today, that’s good,” he paused, “I have good news.”

That was saying something, coming from him.

“The bastard is coming.”

I froze at that. It took a moment to realize that that’s what he wanted, he always wanted to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him any satisfaction. I had to stop myself from meeting his penetrating stare.

“I’d spoken to him earlier, along with my dear wife,” his emphasis on the word ‘wife’ made me want to vomit. “They’ll be coming to Winterfell tomorrow to try to take it from me, with lesser men. And when they lose," Ramsay's voice got quieter as he leaned in towards me, "Sansa will watch me flay you living. She will watch me feed you to those dogs, she will watch as you die in that cell, screaming and bleeding. I will make her understand what happens to those she cares about when she betrays me." His pitch black eyes stared into mine as I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t think I'd ever truly, wholly, and honestly wished for someone to die a painful death as much as I wished it for that man. I swallowed harshly.

"Winterfell has never been yours. It never will be," I whispered. He leaned back, loosening up, but his eyes looked empty as ever. And he smiled some more.

“Jon sounded awfully concerned for you.” No. No. “I’m assuming Sansa had told him about your… conditions here.” That was a nice way to put being held prisoner in your own home. “I wasn’t aware that you two had such a history.” I shouldn’t have even looked at him. All the emotion that I was trying to hide, he saw right through. The more I spoke, or acted, or looked, the more leverage he had against me. It was an impossible struggle.

“Don’t worry,” he leaned closer, his breath hot and putrid. There was nowhere for me to go. “I won’t kill him before I let him see you,” he snatched my face in his free hand, his grasp firm and unwavering. I felt the cool tip of a knife rest on my cheekbone. “He will see just how you’ve been holding up.” He dragged the knife agonizingly slow down the bare flesh, I was sure I would pass out. “And he will see all that I’ve done to you.”

I didn’t eat the stew until after he left. The chains rattled as I reached forward for it, slugging from the bowl like an animal. I didn’t like eating while he watched. Something about it felt… humiliating. Like he was watching one of his dogs rip someone apart after not feeding them for weeks, like he was proud of the way he had starved me. I was sure he was. I was sure he would love to see me eating like it was the last meal I’d ever indulge in.

***

Jon was outside the banquet hall, in the courtyard, slashing away at a dummy with his sword. The mead sloshed in their cups as I stepped toward him.

"I think you won," I commented once I got within earshot. He turned around, his face lighting up at my presence just enough for me to notice, causing my face to flush. "I smuggled you out a drink," I outstretched one of the cups, which he took while catching his breath.

"What am I missing in there?" Jon questioned, referring to the dinner party with the King and Queen, taking a slug from the cup.

"Well... the King is drunk, Sansa's gushing over Prince Joffrey, and Arya just got in trouble for catapulting food at her," I explained. Jon chuckled at the thought of it. "So nothing new, as far as our dinners go."

Jon went quiet, surprisingly. He'd tend to have a lot to say when I was around. His gaze was fixed on the cup, lost in thought.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. I've known him to be a bit upset about being forbidden from dinners, but he was usually better at hiding it.

"There's something I've been thinking about, that I want to tell you," he breathed out. "I'm taking the black. I leave the same day as the royal party with my Uncle Benjen." His eyes were on mine. I felt... conflicted. I was happy for him, I knew he'd do well up at Castle Black, given his bravery and swordsmanship. I knew that we all couldn't stay in Winterfell forever, that we were growing up. However, something in me hoped that wherever Jon would go, I could follow. The bastard and the Lady's maid.

"I'm happy for you." Truly, I was. I knew he'd always been worried about making something of himself. He would never have lands or a title, so it made sense he would seek to prove his worth through service to the realm.

"Thank you." There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"From what I've heard I'll be going to King's Landing with Sansa. Serving as her handmaiden."

Jon hummed in response. He seemed to have the same reaction to my news as I had to his.

"I'll write to you," he commented. I didn't even bother trying to hide my growing smile.

"I'll write back."

***

The days were cold, but the nights felt colder. Ramsay sent in a Maester to treat the wound that he inflicted. I was no use to him dead, of course. It was sore to the touch. Through the small, barred window in the room, I could see that the sun was setting, as it did every night, and as it will continue to do well after I die in that place.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the throbbing pain in my face. It felt like it was on fire, which meant that my body was probably fighting an infection from the cut. Looking out my small window, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the clouds, leaving the sky a gloomy, milky gray.

Sometimes, when I was just waking up, I would forget where I was. I could open my eyes and be in King's Landing, with Sansa and Arya and Ned Stark. Or I could be waking up here in Winterfell, but in my own bed, in my own room, right across from Sansa's, how it used to be. Those moments were my favorite. When my mind was still fogged with sleep and I could swear that just yesterday I was reading in the Godswood with Jon. Sometimes I would see how long I could go before opening my eyes. It felt like when I did so, it cemented the pained reality of where I was, and who I was without. It's silly, really. No matter how hard I tried, I would still wake up surrounded by these four walls, in the same house that was no longer a home.

I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next time I rose I was awakened by the sounds of chaos outside. The window in my cell was far too high for me to see ground level out of, even if I wasn't chained. I had to use my hearing to discern what was happening.

The scrambling and shouting of soldiers, and a loud, rhythmic bang... bang... bang. It was coming from the front gate. Was... was it a siege? There was a shrieking of a creature that I couldn't name, and then more shouting and yelling, the clanging of swords. Then it stopped. I held my breath. It felt like ages until I could hear anything else.

Footsteps raced towards the door. I could hear muttering on the other side. There were two very different ideas of who could be coming to me at such a rush, one of which made bile rise in my throat.

"This has to be it, I know that he kept it locked and I remember it being by the kitchens," the sweet, feminine voice rushed out. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Sansa?" My voice was hardly a whisper as I croaked out the name. I jumped when the door started shaking as though it was being kicked in. The chains clicked as I scrambled to stand up. Had they won? Was Winterfell back to the Starks? Was Jon here?

The door burst open and I locked eyes with the one who had been infiltrating my thoughts. He looked much more grown than I'd remembered. His dark, curly locks were pulled back with only a few strands in the front that had burst free. There were streaks on his face where dirt and blood had been haphazardly wiped away. Sansa engulfed me in a hug, pulling me in so tight I was sure she could tell just how little Ramsay was feeding me.

"I'm so sorry it took so long for us to get here, my escape wasn't planned, I would've never left without you if I'd known-"

"Sansa," I cut her off from her babbling, pulling back from the hug and holding her at arm's length. There were tears welling in her eyes, as well as mine. "It's okay, I'm okay." She let out a shaky breath, looking relieved I didn't resent her.

"Ramsay had the key on him." It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, her and Jon's arrival had almost made me forget that I was still chained in the room. For the first time since she'd come in, she acknowledged Jon's presence by turning back towards him. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. To him, I guessed I might be one. He blinked a few times, seeming to snap out of his stupor and reached in his pocket, handing the rusty key over to Sansa. When the manacles fell with a clank to the floor, I felt like I could finally breathe. I rubbed the skin that was under them, it was red and irritated, which wasn't surprising.

"Are you hungry? I'll see what can be made.”

***

"It's for you." A boyish Jon stood at the foot of my bed, on unsteady feet, with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. Even from the distance it smelled heavenly.

"You didn't have to, I was about to go to the kitchens," I complained, sitting up. Jon made his way around the bed, delicately placing the soup in my cold hands.

"Are you feeling any better?" I saw his hand start to move up as he asked the question, only to stop himself. Was he going to feel my forehead?

"A little," I lied, sipping from the side of the wooden bowl. The soup was hot and delicious; it had been prepared with herbs that were still growing outside. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He gave a small shrug but smiled anyway. "I'm just glad to see that you're eating again."

"Me too," I said, trying a spoonful this time. It was potato soup, my favorite. Had he known? Jon sat down next to me before continuing.

"I feel awful." I snapped my head up at his statement.

"Why? Are you feeling ill too?" I stammered, shifting under the furs. He chuckled through his nose.

"No," he sighed, "the stable hands warned me they were still training that horse, but I'd ridden her before and she was fine. I can't believe she threw you off like that, into the stream of all places." I had to suppress a smile, thinking back to the other day. Jon offered to teach me to ride a horse, as no one else would bother, and we'd spent the better part of a day out in the woods. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. Towards the end, my horse had gotten a bit fussy and, well…

Jon was quick to get my sopping wet figure back into the gates of Winterfell, but it wasn't quick enough to stop me from catching a cold. I truly didn't mind. Any time spent with Jon was valuable to me.

"Don't feel bad, it's part of learning... people fall. In streams, sometimes," I muttered towards the end.

Jon's face pulled into a smile at my comment. "Well, let's hope your second attempt at riding doesn't involve a broken bone or two."

***

Potato soup. I was sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in furs, with a bowl of hot potato soup that conspicuously arrived. In that moment I wondered if I truly had passed away at Ramsay’s hand, if that was real, if I was just dreaming, still locked in the room.

I knew that I should eat, but the hollowness of my stomach made the food smell less than desirable. Sansa hadn't left my side since she'd unlocked the chains and brought me into the room, going on about the past few months. I hadn't said much.

"How do you feel? You’re quiet,” she bit her lip.

My throat hurt, it was dry. I swallowed hard, clearing it before answering.

“Okay. It's just so good to be warm." I had no idea how long I'd been cold. I often stayed balled up in that room, as tight as I could. I tucked my extremities into myself and dreamed of the sun. I took a breath and brought the bowl to my lips.

"Jon was shocked to hear you were still alive." I almost choked on the soup. Sansa smiled, one that looked devilish. "I knew you were close when we were younger, but I wasn't expecting him to react how he did," Sansa thought out loud.

"How did he react?" My curiosity got the best of me. I set the bowl down on the small table next to me.

"I'd told him soon after Brienne, Poddrick, and I arrived at Castle Black," I quirked my head at the names, but she was too consumed in her story to notice, "that you were still at Winterfell. He was furious, he wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him." Sansa looked down, wringing her hands. "I convinced him to wait, to gather more men. Otherwise it would have been a slaughter."

I put my hands on hers, her glossed eyes met mine.

"You did the right thing," I reassured her. I knew she felt guilty for not getting here sooner, but she did what was best. I'd feel worse if they'd come sooner, and Ramsay's threats rang true.

"Rickon-" Sansa choked a sob, "h-he-"

I shushed her and put my arms around her shoulders. I'd seen some Winterfell men carrying his body through the gates on our way to this room. "I know," I whispered, shedding tears of my own. I didn't dare ask her how he died, I knew enough. That it was by Ramsay's hand, without a doubt.

We sat for a while longer, both comforted by the silence. The warmth of the fire and the contentment of the soup helped me relax. I realized that I'd been clenching my teeth, so I released them. I'd been in an awful lot of pain the past few months. The wound on my face would leave a plump scar, that I was sure of. Our silence was interrupted by a few maids entering with warm buckets of water for a bath. The mischievous smile on Sansa's face told me she had planned that. It wasn't until the maids had filled up the tub and left that I got the courage to ask the question that was lingering in my mind.

"Where's Jon? I haven't seen him since..." since I was freed from my cell? Since I saw him for the first time in years? Since he looked at me and his stare penetrated my being?

"I believe he's with some of the men of Winterfell, gathering up any survivors of Ramsay's men in the castle," she replied, giving me a look. She knew why I asked. I could only imagine what Jon was doing to Ramsay’s men "I'll leave you to it," she stood, her long furs flowing down to her ankles. It was then that I realized this room was intended to be mine. "I'm sure a bath is just what you need." I nodded in response, and she swiftly exited the room.

***

Jon hissed and pulled back slightly at the damp cloth I held against his temple.

"I have to clean it, Jon," I pleaded.

"I know," he breathed out. "It stings." I could see the pain in the way he scrunched up his face.

"I’m sorry." His eyebrows scrunched together at my apology, his eyes locked to mine. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Jon and I had a silent understanding of each other. While we had different reasons for being at Winterfell, we were both seen as slightly less-than the Stark children. Of course, I wasn't scolded by Catelyn nearly as much as Jon was. However, we were both instructed to stand behind the Stark's during the Royal family's arrival, never with them. While Jon was told not to attend the feast at all, I was tasked to stay at Sansa's side.

We noticed these differences, we saw them at a very young age, and we protected each other. We looked out for one another in an unspoken pact, that was shown by Jon walking me to my chambers late after the sun went down, and my defending him when Catelyn was always too harsh.

"Jon, I was fine. Those stable boys didn't cause me any harm."

"They were throwing cow shit at you," Jon blurted out. I had to suppress a grin, he was fuming.

"Well, they didn't have very good aim," I muttered. Jon returned his hardened gaze to the gloves that were clutched in his hand, he must not have found my comment very funny.

"Eddard and Catelyn will have an earful for you, you know. Especially Catelyn." He turned away from me.

"I know," he said quietly, "those boys didn't put up much of a fight," Jon pulled my hand down, and grasped it in his. "I'd do it again." My heart fluttered and I swallowed hard.

***

I recalled the memory in the bath. It was so vivid, his warm hand gripping my fingers, his eyes locked on mine and saw everything inside them. It was the first time he ever offered to defend me like that.

I had scrubbed myself too hard in the bath and opened the wound on my face. I stayed in the water until it turned murky and cold. I wanted to rid myself of every piece of Ramsay, though I knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least, not for a long time. My only motivation for exiting the bath was the small trickle of blood down my face. After drying off and dressing, I exited the chamber and made my way to what used to be Maester Luwin’s space. Surely, there would be a healer of some sorts there.

It was dark outside, the moon shone bright above. A chill breeze blew through the halls. I pulled my furs tighter against me and walked to the door, opening it. There was no one inside. The room was littered with medical supplies, my best guess was whatever Maester was here had been out tending to any wounded men from the battle. Though I'd patched up Arya's scrapes and scratches from playing too rough with Bran before. With the supplies here, I could fix myself up. It took me a moment of fumbling through the shelves and drawers to find a healing balm in a small wooden bowl. The smell of it reminded me of Maester Luwin. His hands were always covered in the minty salve.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall startled me, and I nearly dropped the bowl. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I was almost certain I knew who it was. I didn't waste a moment, rushing to the door and opening it. Jon was standing in front of me, his dark hair smoothed back, the moonlight made shadows dance across his face. He wore a plain black tunic with his cloak over it. The air rushed from my lungs. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, standing there, gazing at each other. But I felt like I could spend the rest of my days looking into his warm brown eyes, and I would be content.

"You stopped writing back." There was a hint of amusement in his words, the type that only someone who'd known him well enough could pick up on. I did.

I didn't bother trying to hold back the smile and the tears as we engulfed each other. His arms felt strong and real. One of his hands held me at the back of my head, pulling me so close to him that there was no room for doubt. His breath felt warm on my neck, sending a dance of shivers down my back. I sniffled, holding onto him with every part of me. We stayed together like that for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, he broke our embrace, keeping his hand on the back of my head, holding it, holding me. "I've missed you."

My lips quivered when I spoke, unable to form the right words. "I... I've missed you too." There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many stories and so many people that I'd met, but he looked at me so intently that words fell flat on my tongue.

He held my gaze and I was sure I'd burst into flames. "How are you?" he asked softly. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides there?" His calloused thumb brushed just below the cut on my face. By the gods, I must’ve been a thousand shades of red.

He'd gained a few new scars himself, his face was littered with them. The little nicks in his skin and the dark shadows of his face made him look so... mature. He was no longer the boy who's cheek I'd pecked before he left for the Night's Watch. "No," I said quietly, wringing my hands. "Nothing serious. Just cuts and bruises."

"That's serious," he started analyzing me, trying to find any, "it's you." I smiled again.

"Come here." He dropped his hand from me, closing the door behind him. I immediately missed the warmth he brought to my skin. I turned to follow him, and saw that he was already holding the bowl of salve. With feather light touches, he began to apply to the wound on my face. It stung at first, if only for a moment, but once the minty coolness took effect, I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized I closed my eyes until Jon placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head sideways to get better access to the cut. When I opened them, they found his. The downward curve of his brow told me something.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice cracked a bit, and I cleared my throat.

Jon shook his head, leaning back against the wooden desk. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wanted to come sooner, but we didn't have the men," his soft brown eyes followed the curve of the wound down my face, "I'm sorry." For a moment, I thought I saw a wetness in his eyes.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "For what? Winterfell is back to the Starks. You did what you had to do."

His expression softened. "I know," he said quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for keeping Sansa safe the past few years." He reached out to brush the hair away from my forehead, and I could feel the heat radiating off his hand. "She told me everything. About Joffrey, Baelish... Ramsey." He spat out the last name with venom as his jaw hardened.

"Is he...?" I didn't need to finish asking the question for Jon to understand.

"Sansa put him with his hounds. I don't imagine he'll be there much longer."

I knew exactly what that meant, and a breath of relief left me, one I never knew I was holding in. Though I'd felt relieved, I knew that it wasn't the end of Ramsay's torment. He would continue to haunt the darkest parts of my mind. I would continue to have nightmares where his touch was everywhere, and no matter what I did or said, I couldn't shake him off of me. I'd only experienced a fraction of what Sansa had from him. I couldn't imagine what she'd been going through. She was stronger than me, that I knew for certain. I made a mental note to talk to her about, at the very least let her know that I was willing to, if that was what she chose. Jon's warm hand on my arm pulled me from my thoughts. He was looking at me, expectantly.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd like me to walk you back to your room," his voice was laced with concern.

I tried not to show how his offer made my heart squeeze. I nodded. We walked side by side through the castle halls, silent except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting around us. Once or twice, we passed another person, but neither of us acknowledged their presence. The silence was nerve-wracking. It didn't take long before we reached my room, a small smile tugging at his lips. I stopped short outside the doors, turning to face him. He was right behind me.

"Was the potato soup any good?" Jon asked, and it took only a moment before it clicked in my head.

"That was you?"

"So it's still your favorite, I take it?"

"I-... yes."

Jon smiled and nodded his head slightly, stepping back. He was starting to leave. A burning ache ran deep inside me. I felt myself longing for him, although he was right in front of me. "Jon..." I paused. His presence was doing that thing again where it made it very hard for me to speak. I needed him to say something. Anything. So when he said nothing, I continued. "Would you... stay, for a little while? Please?" I finished lamely.

It was all the encouragement he needed to step forward and set his hands on either side of my face. His thumb rubbed along my cheekbone and up toward my hairline, making me shiver. His eyes flew back and forth between mine, looking for permission that he always had. He nodded delicately, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was so soft, so gentle, so tentative. But even that small moment made my stomach twist into knots and my knees go weak. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, letting the lingering feelings of the past few months melt away. It didn't matter that there was still so much to be said, so much to figure out and plan with the retaking of Winterfell. Things would melt into place, as I melted into him.

Ramsay had left his mark on me, literally and figuratively. And maybe he would continue to live in the parts of my mind that he clawed out space for, but Jon never needed to claim space for himself. He had it earlier when he kicked down the door to my cage, when he hugged me tightly goodbye the day he left for Castle Black, when he showed me that smile that always turned my insides to mush, and every time in between. All without having to ask for it. He was slowly filling it with warmth, with love. With life. So maybe Ramsay had some part of me, one that I may never get back... but those parts were all Jon’s, and I'd always treasure them.

As his lips moved against mine, I realized I’d made it.

I finally felt like I was home.

Tags: @pastanest @nyotamalfoy

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow imagine #got fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #asoif/got #asoaif

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pixiecactus · 20 days

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something that does not make sense to my stupid little brain is: ned stark saw arya as a problem child, he knew arya was failing septa mordane's teachings, he knew catelyn saw arya's behavior as a dissapoinment, but what else ned stark did exactly know about northern ladies? grrm is not shy in showing that northern ladies are more gender non conforming than their southern counterparts, dacey mormont went to fight side by side with her king, the mormont women as a whole are a fascinating concept, all women (highborn and lowborn) in bear island learn to defend themselves from ironmen and of course this is personal speculation but i don't think howland reed shamed his daughter for being a hunter and a fisher, since he even teached her himself how to fight with a spear. in asos we have harwin telling arya:

“You ride like a northman, milady,” Harwin said when he’d drawn them to a halt. “Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna.”

even ned makes the comparisons himself between his sister and his daughter arya.

It has a name, does it?" Her father sighed. "Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch. It brought them both to an early grave." Arya heard sadness in his voice; he did not often speak of his father, or of the brother and sister who had died before she was born. "Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her."

but why there seems to be a disconnection in his thought process regarding arya's failings in southern education. i don't think that the answer is a simply as: "oh, but he grew up in the south"... maybe it can be a combination of the first point and his fear as a father of arya ending dead like lyanna, since both of them personalities are very similar. but still it doesn't sit right with me. i do like that the stark children were receiving southern education, this is not a post trying to postulate that the north is good and the south is evil. but i'm behind the idea of postulating that arya was done dirty by both of her parents. both of them never seemed to try to comprehend arya's behavior, (which is crazy because arya behaved as a normal 9 year old child) but it's more infuriating for me seeing it coming from ned stark who in my opinion should have beforehand knowledge about northern ladies being gnc.

#don't mind me is just another of my stupid posts #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #house stark #arya stark #eddard stark

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jackoshadows · 8 months

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IMO, If there is one person Jon Snow is going to be most affected by after learning about R+L=J, it's going to be his mother Lyanna and not the men - Ned or Rhaegar. He's going to be shaken to his core knowing the truth of his mother.

The mother he keeps hoping to remember. The mother he thinks of when he sees his siblings get a mother's love. The mother he wants Ned to tell him about. The mother he dreams about - who she was, where she was, did she love him?

"Am I?" the dwarf replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure." "I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said. - - Jon, AGoT

"The Watch has need of every man it can get," Donal Noye said when they were alone. "Even men like Toad. You won't win any honors killing him." Jon's anger flared. "He said my mother was—" "—a whore. I heard him. What of it? Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores." Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon, AGoT

Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? - Jon , AGoT

"They were as close as brothers, once." Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. - Jon, AGoT

"But it's a lie," Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself … would he? He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name. - Jon, AGoT

The Old Bear shrugged. "A boy king … I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—" "Lady Stark is not my mother," Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. - Jon, AGoT

The old man seemed to sense his doubts. "Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?" Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. "He would do whatever was right," he said … ringingly, to make up for his hesitation. "No matter what." - Jon, AGoT

Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. - Jon, AGoT

I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. "I don't know." - Jon, AGoT

Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he'd always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight. - Jon, ACoK

"I am." "Who was your mother?" "Some woman. Most of them are." Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. - Jon, ACoK

She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. "And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?" "I never knew my mother. Or any such song." - Jon, ACoK

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. - Jon, ASoS

Was this how it was for my father? he wondered. Was he as weak as I am, when he dishonored himself in my mother's bed? - Jon, ASoS

They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. - Jon, ASoS

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. - Jon, ASoS

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him.- Arya, ASoS

And knowing that, yes, he had a mother who loved him dearly and made Ned promise to take care of him on her deathbed is going to profoundly affect him and he is going to be bag of emotions!!

That he could visit her in the crypts of Winterfell, that she is buried there - his mother!! Hope we are still getting a Jon Snow POV after death/resurrection/becoming a king because GRRM writing this stuff?

#Jon Snow #Lyanna Stark

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esther-dot · 5 months

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Do you think Jon and Sansa will meet again at Castle Black, and from there, they will plan to take Winterfell? Or will Sansa take Winterfell on her own and reunite with Jon along the way? I’m of the idea of two lost souls who, when united, find the strength in each other to take the land of their family. But I don’t know, I haven’t finished the books yet so I need guidance on this.

I don’t consider myself an ASOIAF expert, anon so I don't offer guidance, but I will def share my thoughts with you!

In order to talk about this, I'm afraid there are some ADWD spoilers, though. If you mind that, maybe revisit this post after you've read it? Short version, I agree with you. Sansa should be involved in retaking Winterfell because we need a Stark there:

Battles had been fought at Winterfell before, but never one without a Stark on one side or the other. (ADWD, Jon VII)

but I think the reunion happens first because of the The Girl in Grey theory. I'll explain more below the cut due to the major Jon spoiler.

In ADWD, a character named Melisandre tells Jon about a vision she has:

She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander's Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon's heart leapt into his mouth. "Ygritte," he said. "Lord Snow." The voice was Melisandre's. Surprise made him recoil from her. "Lady Melisandre." He took a step backwards. "I mistook you for someone else." At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. "You will freeze your fingers off," Jon warned. "If that is the will of R'hllor. Night's powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god's holy fire." "You heart does not concern me. Just your hands."

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" "… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will." She gazed at Ghost. "May I touch your … wolf?" The thought made Jon uneasy. "Best not." "He will not harm me. You call him Ghost, yes?" "Yes, but …" "Ghost." Melisandre made the word a song. The direwolf padded toward her. Wary, he stalked about her in a circle, sniffing. When she held out her hand he smelled that too, then shoved his nose against her fingers. Jon let out a white breath. "He is not always so …" "… warm? Warmth calls to warmth, Jon Snow." Her eyes were two red stars, shining in the dark. At her throat, her ruby gleamed, a third eye glowing brighter than the others. Jon had seen Ghost's eyes blazing red the same way, when they caught the light just right. "Ghost," he called. "To me." The direwolf looked at him as if he were a stranger. Jon frowned in disbelief. "That's … queer." "You think so?" She knelt and scratched Ghost behind his ear. "Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it." I am not a wolf, he thought. "And how would I do that?" "I can show you." Melisandre draped one slender arm over Ghost, and the direwolf licked her face. "The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows." "Shadows." The world seemed darker when he said it. "Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow. The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall." Jon glanced over his shoulder. The shadow was there, just as she had said, etched in moonlight against the Wall. A girl in grey on a dying horse, he thought. Coming here, to you. Arya. He turned back to the red priestess. Jon could feel her warmth. She has power. The thought came unbidden, seizing him with iron teeth, but this was not a woman he cared to be indebted to, not even for his little sister. "Dalla told me something once. Val's sister, Mance Rayder's wife. She said that sorcery was a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it." "A wise woman." Melisandre rose, her red robes stirring in the wind. "A sword without a hilt is still a sword, though, and a sword is a fine thing to have when foes are all about. Hear me now, Jon Snow. Nine crows flew into the white wood to find your foes for you. Three of them are dead. They have not died yet, but their death is out there waiting for them, and they ride to meet it. You sent them forth to be your eyes in the darkness, but they will be eyeless when they return to you. I have seen their pale dead faces in my flames. Empty sockets, weeping blood." She pushed her red hair back, and her red eyes shone. "You do not believe me. You will. The cost of that belief will be three lives. A small price to pay for wisdom, some might say … but not one you had to pay. Remember that when you behold the blind and ravaged faces of your dead. And come that day, take my hand." The mist rose from her pale flesh, and for a moment it seemed as if pale, sorcerous flames were playing about her fingers. "Take my hand," she said again, "and let me save your sister." (ADWD, Jon VI)

The vision keeps coming up and dictates some of Jon's decisions. Jeyne Poole (Sansa's friend) was forced to marry Ramsay in the guise of being Arya, she escapes, and people expect her to reunite with Jon and be the girl in grey (escaping a marriage, she was pretending to be his sister). Others point to Alys Karstark who runs to Jon to escape a marriage. The problem is, Mel doesn't know who it is, she only knows sister. People pick Jeyne because of the Arya connection, but neither she nor Alys are Jon's sister. And Jon has another sister, Sansa.

I would argue the reason that the girl in grey is Sansa (ie Sansa will flee North to escape LF's plots and reunite with Jon before Winterfell is taken/she is in a position of power), is if you read Jon's passage about the girl in grey, Jon being dead is written all over it. His white breath, the reference to him as a stranger, Jon telling himself he isn't a wolf...you see, here is the major spoiler...

Jon is assassinated at the end of TWOW.

Now, he may not actually be dead-dead, some of us have said he might be in a coma like Bran, but a) we believe he warged into Ghost (I am not a wolf--he will need to come back to himself, not lose himself in Ghost), b) the stranger = Jon is dead, c) the white breath = his body being cold cuz he's dead etc. The other side of this is, the way Jon sees Mel and remembers a different redhead can be viewed as foreshadowing for recently undead Jon seeing a redhead and mistaking her for Ygritte. The description of Mel's words like a song made people think of Sansa (it's been speculated Sansa's singing will help Jon remember things post rez/help him return to himself), and Ghost's strangely positive reaction to Mel may foreshadow how he reacts to Sansa as a familiar person. So, when I read that passage, it sounded to me like Sansa and Jon will be reuniting shortly after his rez, or even perhaps before his rez, so yes, I imagine that happens at the Wall.

Way back in 2013, a famous Jonsa essay predicted that Jon and Sansa would be reunited first of all the Starks, and then in 2016 that happened on the show which spurred a lot more discussion in the Jonsa fandom about Sansa being the girl in grey in the books as well.

I'll link some additional posts with various thoughts on how it might go.

Jon as the Stranger, Sansa as a silent sister. Pertinent quotes:

Then one morning she spied three women in the cowled grey robes of the silent sisters loading a corpse into their wagon. (ACOK, Arya VII) The women in grey bowed their heads. The silent sisters do not speak to the living, Catelyn remembered dully, but some say they can talk to the dead. (ACOK, Catelyn V) Grey was the color of the silent sisters, the handmaidens of the Stranger. (AFFC, Brienne VIII) When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss." (AFFC, Cersei IV)

@loveroflemons wrote a post in 2017 talking about Mel's prophecy and the map of the North to explain why Sansa is the Girl in Grey here. @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir has a post explaining that Sansa is Ned's narrative heir and her path North will follow his here, and some general ideas for her TWOW story here.

@istumpysk talks about The Girl in Grey foreshadowing here. @aegor-bamfsteel tried to give us a time table here, @redteabaron has talked about the possibility that Sansa will be hunted by Ramsay for some Red Riding Hood parallels here, That and Sansa meeting Ghost while Jon is still out of it is discussed here as well. And this post talks about Jon saving Sansa from Ramsay while warged into Ghost using some king’s prize/thief quotes. I also found a Tolkien poem (Martin is a massive fan) that has Girl in Grey vibes here (not proof, just fun).

Anyway, it's a very popular Jonsa theory, for many of us, a given at this point. For a different ask i scrolled some BNF blogs and they mocked it a lot, called us delusional because they can point to the other girls as fulfilling the prophecy, but to me, that prophecy takes up too much space for it to disappear without a real payoff. It makes sense to me that Martin would use that vision to prep us for Sansa arriving in the North.

Let me know what you think after you read ADWD!

#soon i'll post links for book verse girl in grey fics anon #not meta but jonsa fics have a funny habit of predicting things to come!#jonsa #dot chat #the girl in grey

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amber-laughs · 22 days

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Ned and Lyanna's Pale Blue Roses

There is so much yet to be revealed from the Tower of Joy but the most notable missing detail is Jon Snow himself. He has no place in Ned’s memory of Lyanna’s death. Ned explicitly says only he and Howland Reed left the Tower of Joy alive that day, but we know this can’t be true. They left the tower with another living breathing human being and Ned knows that too. So what gives?

“I might mention, though, that Ned's account, which you refer to, was in the context of a dream... and a fever dream at that. Our dreams are not always literal.” - George R.R. Martin. Not only that but Ned himself admits there is much he simply blacked out from “They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it.”

and may I remind you “A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness” A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

I think Ned’s mind, through his trauma, grief and determination to leave the past behind, has altered his memories. I think Ned has mentioned Jon almost everytime he mentions the scene in the tower. I think Jon is the blue rose petals from Ned’s memories.

"Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. A Game of Thrones - Eddard X

If Lyanna’s voice was as damaged as Ned claims “The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper” and yet he could hear her calling for him, surely he could hear a baby crying. Surely Ned knew the Kingsguard would never let him, a rebel whose cause had just murdered Aegon and Rhaenys in cold blood, anywhere near Rhaegar’s last living son. So as Jon’s cries blow across the blood streaked sky Ned knows what comes next.

“The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.” A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

So was Jon just lying on the floor of the tower? He had to have been somewhere? His mother’s arms? Until her muscles gave out and fell to the bed she laid on maybe.

“But Jon isn’t dead, the rose petals are dead.” True but the petals Ned claims he saw in the wind weren’t dead either. Jon Snow isn’t dead but Lyanna’s son is. He never existed. Rhaegar’s children are all dead. Only Ned Stark’s bastard remains.

"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei is currently speaking of Lyanna but make no mistake, this conversation is wrapped around Jon Snow.

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

He doesn’t list Jon with his biological children but Ned’s saying he’d react with the same paternal instinct and, unlike Catelyn, he wouldn’t save them at the expense of Jon. That’s why he shifts to it to her, she’s the unknown variable in this. Ned doesn’t need to wonder because he’s already done it. He’s chosen Jon’s safety for fifteen years knowing the Starks could be executed over his secret.

What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?" "For a start," said Ned, "I do not kill children. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei asks a few questions here that in large boil down to “Who is your bastard’s mother?” Ned’s only response is “I do not kill children.” He’s given her his answer. Probably the most answer honest he ever gave about Jon. All he wants to do for Cersei is keep her children from the same fate as Rhaegar’s. He’s done it successfully once before, that his blueprint here. But of course he won’t allow his mind to go there. He never dwells on Jon’s parentage, not even in the privacy of his own mind. “(…) and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep.” He thinks of pale blue roses, of the innocent children at stake. Of the death of his sister and how she died and he wants to weep.

The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

They are angry with him, the Kings of Winter, Lyanna, there is something he didn’t do. In Jon’s own dreams it’s the Kings of Winter he sees on his way to his mother’s grave. They try to tell him. They scream he’s not a Stark, they want him to know just as much as she does. Her pale blue roses still haunt him while she cries for the promises they both know he can no longer keep. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

For certain only Ned and Howland Reed knew the truth. A good argument for Benjen, who Ned’s heard is dead beyond the Wall. No he’ll never tell Jon the truth no matter how much he wants now wants to, “The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him…” Secrets hidden beneath pale blue petals never to be revealed.

#Valyrian Scrolls #Lyanna Stark #Ned Stark #R+L=J #Jon Snow #Asoiaf Meta #ValyrianScrolls #asoiaf #Game of Thrones #House Stark

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 23)

WARNING: Hangings, SA insinuations

—————

All—or rather most of—the Lannister soldiers had returned to Casterly Rock, and though Tywin was expected to return to Kings Landing, he had sent a raven to Kevan. He’d rather enjoyed the small break from the utter hell that was the Red Keep, and so had I.

With the kindness and hospitality of the Starks, we planned to spend another week at Winterfell. During that time, we also intended to visit Castle Black. Tywin had said it was nonsense, but I’d always wanted to see the wall, and he found that he couldn’t refuse me. Plus, if we were going to be here, we might as well actually enjoy it.

I could tell he was also rather intrigued by the Stark girl, who he had not had the opportunity to speak with yet. Every time he saw her, there was a spark in his eyes I’d never seen before. He was trying to figure her out.

The day we had planned to take our trip to the wall, he finally found an opportunity to interrogate her. Or at least, that’s what it felt like to her.

—————

Arya was going back to her room now that she’d finished her breakfast, hoping to get in some practice with needle. Truthfully, she was desperate to ask you for help. To train with you felt like something of a dream to her. She’d spent a lifetime listening to her older brothers talking about you when she was little, and since then, all she’d ever wanted was to be like you.

A fierce, female warrior. Gods, she wanted it badly. Now that you were at Winterfell, she hoped to find an opportunity to ask for your tutelage. Though, it seemed she would have to get past Tywin Lannister in order to get to you, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He’d laughed when he first saw her, yes, but there was always a possibility he’d grown angry about it since then. Or that he had assumed she had been trying to kill him.

Well, she had meant to, but not when she’d named the guard.

Though, these thoughts were all interrupted when she turned the hall and ran straight into the man she had been avoiding.

“M-My lord,” she stuttered, looking up at the significantly taller man. His eyes were like pure ice, despite being a southern.

“Lady Arya.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Tywin furrowed his eyebrows pensively.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You tried to kill me,” he said, watching her lips part. She shook her head rather quickly, swallowing.

“No, my lord. It was only the messenger I killed. Well, it wasn’t me. I- I named him to another. The guard was going to tell you… I took one of your letters,” she admitted meekly, knowing he wouldn’t dare do anything to her in her own home. He merely nodded and paused for a second. It was at least reassuring to know that he wasn’t actually the target.

“Who did it?”

“I can’t remember his name. He was from Essos, though. He- he could change his face,” Arya said, lying to conceal Jaquen’s identity at least a little bit. Tywin could tell she was lying, but did not press further. If the man was from Essos it made no difference. It was the last part that captured his attention.

“How do you mean change his face?” Tywin inquired warily. The girl was not lying, but perhaps he had misunderstood.

“He could become different people. He could change how he looked. I don’t- I don’t know how to explain it, my lord,” she said, watching his pensive face. It was always so impossible to tell what Tywin Lannister was thinking. For anyone that wasn’t you, at least.

Tywin had heard of faceless men before, and knew that if they did exist they served the ‘many faced god.’ He’d never entirely believed in their legitimacy, but the girl had no reason to lie. Nor would she even know about faceless men unless she’d really met one.

“I see. Well, I’m glad I was not the intended target. Though, it was rather bold of you to take one of my letters,” he said sharply, eyes squinting at the young Stark. Arya wanted to swallow, a certain fear in her stomach, but she did not let it show.

“Wouldn’t you do the same if you knew someone intended to harm your family?” She questioned. He paused for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yes, yes I would.”

They both stared at each other for a few moments, and Arya found herself wondering if she should say something. In all honesty, she wasn’t exactly sure what to say, and she was grateful when Tywin spoke first.

“You’re a clever girl, Lady Arya,” he remarked, handing out a rare compliment.

“You’re not mad at me?” She asked, swallowing now. She couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“No, girl. You were impressive, though perhaps bolder than most would be. If you were only a bit less rigid, I might’ve believed your lies,” he complimented, giving her an appreciative look. She felt herself smiling, though she did not want to. Arya found conversation with Tywin Lannister easy, especially now that they weren’t at war.

“You’re not as bad as everyone says, you know,” she said after hesitating for a moment. She would never entirely trust him, just as any smart person would, but he’d been more decent to her than plenty of men.

“You’d better not tell people you think that,” he warned, reminding her that as much as he enjoyed her, she wasn’t quite his equal. Not yet.

“I wasn’t going to, but I thought I ought to tell you,” she said, looking down at his boots for a moment. She forced herself to look back at his face.

“I would thank you if I thought it was a compliment. I’ve done plenty of bad in my life, Lady Arya. Sparing you from that side of me doesn’t erase it. Come, I’ll walk you to wherever you’re going,” he said, motioning for her to keep walking. He wanted to make the conversation somewhat productive. She nodded and began to walk toward her chambers. His heavy steps followed behind.

“I know that. But still, plenty of men are unreasonable to everyone, and you’re not. You let me speak and ask questions, even though I shouldn’t have,” she pointed out to him, looking up. She’d grown taller since he’d last seen her, but was still quite a lot shorter than he was. She also looked much more like a woman now. Her days of hiding as a boy were long over.

“You intrigued me. A young girl hiding as a boy who knew how to read and knew plenty of history. And you’re not dumb. You’d be surprised just how often I’m plagued by people full of stupidity,” he grumbled, making her smile a bit.

“I saw it firsthand.”

“Then I’m surprised you don’t understand why I was decent towards you.”

Arya laughed at that one, and Tywin gave her a brief smile. She’d only seen it for a second, but somehow she found herself holding onto it. Tywin Lannister never smiled. He only did so in front of people he truly enjoyed, such as you and Arya.

“I thought you’d be more like-“ Arya paused, suddenly realizing she shouldn’t say what she intended to.

“Like whom?” Tywin questioned, already knowing which name was about to slip from her tongue. He had no great care for his eldest grandson either.

“Like… Joffrey,” she finished quietly, looking down at the stone ground passing beneath her feet.

“That boy was singular, and not in a good way. The product of a detached father and a mother who gave him anything he wanted. Though, I imagine it’s more than that. Tommen and Myrcella are nothing like him,” he noted, reflecting that of his grandchildren Joffrey truly was the only one with such a spoiled, cruel nature. Perhaps it was that he had been raised to be king.

Or perhaps some were put on earth simply to be cruel.

“He was the reason- Mycah…” Arya had muttered it under her breath, but Tywin had heard.

“Hm?”

She looked up at him, swallowing.

“Years ago, when we were on the kingsroad with father and King Robert, I’d met this boy named Mycah in one of the villages. His name was Mycah. We were practicing- sparring. Joffrey and Sansa found us, and Joffrey cut Mycah as a punishment. The situation… well, it didn’t get any better. My direwolf bit him and he got so upset Cersei demanded they kill Sansa’s wolf since they couldn’t find mine. Sansa should’ve realized he was a horrible boy that day,” Arya ranted, eyebrows knitting together as she thought about it. Tywin watched the anger boil within her.

“Well, Margaery Tyrell saved her a bit of trouble on that front. A lifetime of it,” Tywin remarked, not certain what to say about the rest of her story. He certainly found it quite truthful, though. It was exactly the kind of thing Cersei would do. His daughter was complex, and often two different people. The same woman who had cried in his arms was simultaneously capable of great cruelty.

“Sansa told me they were good friends. She also spoke highly of Lady (Y/N). Robb did too,” Arya noted, trying to gauge the Old Lion’s reaction as she said your name. She was hoping somehow she would get the opportunity to bring up that she wished to practice with you.

“Yes, most people do,” Tywin said simply. The girl was going somewhere with this, he understood that, but he simply wanted to watch her get to the point herself.

“Sansa wrote from Highgarden a few months ago. She said she’d witnessed the tourney held in Kings Landing, and that Lady (Y/N) had emerged victorious in the fighting rounds. She said that- that just as everyone began to fear for her life, she escaped her chokehold by stabbing both of the man’s eyes. Sansa said it made her nauseous, but I would’ve liked to see it,” Arya rambled fondly, a clear admiration for you in her tone. Tywin was quite aware of this, and it took him more work than usual to hold back a smile.

“She’s an inspiration to you, isn’t she? Along with Visenya Targaryen,” he questioned, remembering the conversations they’d had at Harrenhal. Arya nodded, a bright grin on her face. He could tell she wanted to be a warrior more than anything else on earth.

“I was- I was wondering if you… if you could ask her to practice with me. To teach me some things,” Arya finally managed to get out, looking up at Tywin expectantly. He gave her a slight nod.

“You ought to ask her yourself. She’ll be happy to do it.”

Arya instantly grinned even wider, and it was then that she realized they’d reached her room. Stopping, she swallowed and considered what she was going to say.

“Thank you, Lord Tywin,” was all she managed, not entirely sure how else she could express her gratitude. Both for giving her the courage to approach you and for walking with her. Not to mention, for sparing her life at Harrenhal.

“You’re welcome, my lady. Try and behave yourself, hm? You’ve got quite a bit of Tully in you,” Tywin remarked, affectionately placing his hand on her head. She nodded, and he motioned for her to go in. Once she had, he found himself smiling. The girl was so clever, so eager to learn.

Being around children like that reminded him of what his life had been like before Tyrion was born. It reminded him of the days he’d been able to sit on the beach with Joanna while the children played in the ocean. If Ned Stark was still alive, he had no question in his mind that he would be beyond proud of his children.

Tywin wished he could say the same.

—————

I was getting ready for our trip to the wall, dressed in the standard northern fashions, and admittedly quite happy that I was. With winter arriving any day now, temperatures had begun to drop increasingly low.

Plus, as I looked in the mirror and found Tywin adjusting the straps of his fur cloak, I realized he was quite the portrait in leather.

I came up behind him, smiling as his eyes met mine in the mirror.

“What?” He asked, knowing I was about to make some sort of remark. Just as I had learned to read his expressions, he knew mine perfectly.

“Northern fashion suits you, my lord. You look quite handsome in furs and leather,” I said, wrapping my arms around his chest and grinning at him in the reflection.

“Is that so? I prefer you, my lady, in Lannister red and golds. Or your custom, scandalous Tyrell fashions,” he said, turning around to face me. There was a quick kiss planted on my forehead.

“Not to say that this dress doesn’t flatter you, of course,” he corrected himself quickly, looking me up and down. I raised an eyebrow at him.

“If you’re honest with yourself, Tywin, you just like to see my tits out,” I teased, running my hand over his hair to fix a few strands.

“May I demand a trial by combat?” He muttered in reply, making me laugh rather loudly. Tywin, I occasionally realized, had become accustomed to making jokes around me. It was an odd thing to consider, especially when he never did it around anybody else. I made him unafraid to smile and laugh, it seemed.

I kissed his cheek, and he leaned into my touch with a gentle smile. I then watched him pull his gloves on and reach for his sword.

“You’re going to bring a sword?” I questioned, not seeing any danger at the wall so long as we were with the Starks. Jon Snow was Lord Commander, after all.

“The night's watch is entirely made up of murderers and rapists. Yes, I’m going to bring my sword. You ought to hide a dagger in your boots,” he suggested, sheathing the weapon in his belt. I knew he was right, and so naturally I opted to take his advice. Once I had stored my dagger safely, I took his arm and accompanied him outside.

“I spoke with the Stark girl today, just after breakfast,” he said suddenly as we walked through the somewhat snow-covered ground. We were heading for the stables, of course.

“Oh? And how did that go?” I inquired, lifting my skirts slightly.

“Well. She looks up to you. She also mentioned wanting to ask you to teach her some things as far as swordsmanship is concerned,” he revealed, making me smile brightly. To inspire young girls like her would always make me happy. It was reassuring to know that female warriors would continue to persevere despite criticism from the opposite sex.

“And how did you respond to that?” I asked, shivering slightly. Even despite my dress, it was freezing outside.

“I told her she should ask you herself, and that you’d probably be more than happy to do it,” Tywin said, reaching for his cloak. When I realized he meant to give it to me, I shook my head.

“Don’t. I’ll warm up once we start riding. Plus, I don’t want you to get cold either. If you get sick you’ll whine just as all men do,” I told him, watching him raise a challenging eyebrow. He clearly disagreed with my sentiment.

“I would not whine. Lesser men, perhaps, but not me,” he grumbled, upset. I began to laugh.

“If you say so, Tywin.”

I was still laughing when Robb Stark, followed by his two younger siblings, appeared in the courtyard. Tywin gave me a look that told me to be silent, which I cooperated with. Though Tywin and I joked with each other often, I understood there was always a fearsome reputation to maintain, and I would never get in the way of that.

At least in front of other nobles.

“Lord Tywin, Lady (Y/N). On your way to the stables?” Robb inquired, walking beside us now. Arya and Rickon were chatting away behind us, both rather excited to see Jon Snow, I gathered.

“Yes, my lord. I’d like to thank you again for bringing us with you to the wall. The Lord Hand may complain, but I am personally rather excited to see it,” I said, smiling at him while Tywin scoffed and shook his head. Robb smiled too.

“Of course. It’s good that you’re here now, Jon’s hanging a group of traitors today, I hear,” he explained, looking over at his shoulder. We all had a mutual understanding that the children ought to be exposed to it. Death was inevitable for all of us, we might as well be accustomed to it.

“Traitors?” Tywin questioned, clearly wanting to know what they had done.

“Angry about his decision to bring wildlings south. They tried to kill Jon,” Robb informed, making my eyebrows raise in surprise.

Murders and rapists, indeed.

After reaching the stables and mounting our horses, our small group—plus a modest amount of guards—set out for the wall.

Robb and Rickon were riding in the front, and I rode beside Tywin and Arya behind them. The Hound and two other men were at the very back of the group.

“Lady (Y/N)… I have a question,” Arya said, to which I raised my eyebrows, indicating that she ask it.

“Would you… would you practice with me? Or rather, teach me, I suppose. Sandor’s been helping me with my sword work, but you’re quite good with daggers. Plus you’re- well, smaller than Sandor. I’d like to get advice from someone that doesn’t have that advantage,” she said, smiling at me. I instantly nodded and returned the grin.

“Of course, Lady Arya. Daggers are the best weapons a person can learn to yield. Especially a woman, as they’re easy to hide underneath skirts and such. I’d be more than happy to help you. We can start tomorrow if you’d like,” I offered, watching the excitement grow in her eyes.

“And you’re talented with poison, too. Could you teach me something about that?”

The girl was rather surprising, and I saw Tywin look over in my peripheral vision. Clearly her request had caught both of us off guard.

“I don’t- well, learning to fight is one thing, Lady Arya, but unless you intend to go around killing people, poison doesn’t exactly have a place within what I can teach you,” I said, trying to let her down gently.

“I have a list,” she explained simply, to which I was unable to hide my shock. This girl was unlike any other I’d ever met.

“I see. Well, let’s focus on the daggers first, hm?” I suggested, knowing that most poisons would be dangerous if they even so much as touched her skin. She’d need to become extremely talented with the blade before attempting to coat them.

Arya nodded, looking ahead again. I turned to Tywin, who was trying to suppress a smile. He succeeded, but I’d caught the look on his face.

“What?” I asked, knowing he wanted to say something. He leaned toward me a bit.

“You were even more wild at her age.”

He whispered it only loud enough for me to hear, and I promptly responded by smacking his shoulder. He leaned away from me, raising both eyebrows playfully. He wasn’t smiling, but I could tell he was amused and reveling in his ability to infuriate me.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment and not as the insult you meant it to be, Tywin,” I said, not exactly facing him but glaring at him from the side of my eyes anyways.

“I did not mean it as an insult, my lady. It was only the truth.”

“Well, perhaps I would not have been quite so wild if my host had not been an insufferable-“

I had been about to say it, but I caught myself and held my tongue, knowing that Robb Stark and the rest of his family would not find it humorous the way that Tywin and I did.

Most likely, they would assume we were actually having an argument and grow uncomfortable.

Either way, Tywin had quite the smug look on his face, and I couldn’t resist the urge to scoff and smile at him.

In all my life, I’d never met anyone other than Tywin who managed to make me smile without fail. Or who managed to tease and aggravate me so much simultaneously. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

Just then, the trees around the road began to clear up, and Tywin and I found ourselves gazing upon the wall itself. It was just a bit taller than I remembered Casterly Rock being, and that meant it was massive.

Robb Stark looked back at us, a smile on his face when he saw my gaping mouth.

“You never get used to seeing it, trust me,” he said, to which I nodded in agreement. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing one could get used to.

We could see Castle Black now too, and I was glad for it. I had in fact not warmed up on the ride there, and I was desperate to be by a fire. Or out of the cold wind, at the very least.

When we reached the gates, the guards inquired about who we were for a moment, but easily relented and called for Jon Snow once Robb had explained it.

Plus, surely the Stark banners waving behind us were a sign enough.

As our group entered and dismounted, several men took our horses away, though not without glancing at me quite obviously. My shivering continued.

Murderers and rapists.

Arya was walking besides Robb, and I knew men wouldn’t dare to look at her simply out of respect. If they’d known the man beside me was Tywin Lannister, I doubted they’d continue to stare.

Tywin hadn’t noticed them staring yet, and I was grateful. The last thing I wanted to do was cause an unnecessary scene.

“(Y/N), are you certain you don’t want my cloak?”

I turned to Tywin, who placed his hands on my arms and began to rub a bit in attempts to warm me up. I shook my head, despite the way I was shaking.

He ran a gloved hand over my hair, wrapping one arm around me and keeping me close to him as we continued to walk.

We soon ventured inside, and I was grateful for it. Jon Snow was in his chambers, and we all watched him burst from them upon hearing our footsteps. He embraced Robb like he was a dying man, and did the same with both Arya and Rickon. It made me feel awful for marrying Sansa off to Loras.

It was better than marrying Tyrion and staying in King's Landing, though. Starks didn’t do well in King’s Landing.

“Jon, this is Tywin Lannister, and (Y/N) Tyrell. They brought troops north to help fight Stannis and thought they might stay a bit longer,” Robb explained, watching Jon’s eyes widen a bit. Tywin had let go of me since we were inside, and I wondered if Jon realized that I was… well, spoken for.

I recalled Robb saying that both he and Jon had talked about me as young men, and it made me smile when he began to stutter.

“My lord, m-my lady. It’s an honor,” he said, reaching to shake Tywin’s hand. He shook mine too, though he admittedly seemed quite nervous.

“Thank you for having us, Lord Commander,” I said sweetly.

“Of course. I’m sorry it had to be on the day of a hanging,” he apologized somewhat regretfully, and it seemed as though he knew something we didn’t.

“Well, from what I hear there was an attempt to take your life. This does not seem unfitting,” I reasoned, knowing both Tywin and I would’ve hung any man who tried to do the same to us.

The man merely nodded, and Robb began to laugh as he wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. They were heading outside, and I looked over at Tywin as we followed behind.

“I don’t like how he looked at you,” he said quietly, not bothering to look over at me. I took his arm, leaning my head on his shoulder for a moment.

“Then perhaps you ought to make it more obvious that I’m yours.”

He exhaled in a way that resembled a laugh, and I couldn’t resist a smile as we ventured into the cold once more. There was a crowd of men waiting to watch the hanging, and they all stared as Jon and Robb came into view.

That was when they noticed me, too, and began to smile and joke with each other. I’d never been so grateful to not hear what was being said of me.

“Do not leave my side, (Y/N). Under any circumstance,” Tywin mumbled, to which I nodded. I had no intention of moving away from him. I had my blade in my boot, but if a group of men decided to catch me alone, it would not be enough. Especially if they all had swords.

Well, I might be able to disarm one and fight the rest, but still, it was not a position I wanted to find myself in.

We made our way into the courtyard, standing in the back with Robb and his siblings. Jon went up the platform, where those awaiting death were lined up. One of them was only a young boy, and for some reason it made me profoundly sad.

I let myself lean on Tywin’s arm, and he reached to pull me into his side. I always felt so angry with myself when I got sentimental about death, especially because I’d killed so many during my lifetime.

But either way, it would occasionally make me sad regardless.

“You don’t have to watch if you don’t wish to, (Y/N),” Tywin pointed out, watching as they made their confessions to Jon Snow. The young boy said nothing.

“Robb is making Arya and Rickon watch, I’ll be alright, rest assured,” I whispered back, knowing that even if it did make me a little bit sad, watching people die did not fill me with any discomfort. Death made me sadder than the act of dying itself.

“I wish you had looked away like I’d told you to during Oberyn’s trial,” he said after a few seconds, making me look up at him with surprise.

“I couldn’t have looked away. I was the one who had gotten him into that situation, Tywin. And for what… all over some stupid boy,” I scoffed, still feeling the guilt as strongly as ever.

“You protected your family. The second Joffrey got bored, Margaery would’ve become Sansa. It might’ve taken her awhile, but rest assured, Tommen is a far better match,” he said, rubbing my back gently. Nobody could tell underneath my cape.

“Few people have truly scared me, but Oberyn was one of them. He told me he was going to poison you,” I said suddenly, recalling the conversation we’d had in the brothel. Tywin did not seem surprised by this.

“And what did you tell him in response?” He questioned casually.

“I was speechless. He merely smiled and told me he wasn’t going to anymore, since I seemed so fond of you. It made me grateful I’d gone to speak with him, and that I’d managed to earn his respect. If he’d done it- if he’d- I don’t know what I would do,” I said, looking down at the snow beneath my boots. The thought of not being with Tywin scared me beyond words. He had become my purpose, and what does one do without purpose?

“I’m certainly glad you managed to earn his respect too, then.”

“You’ve saved my life before. It was only fair of me,” I said softly, smiling. Tywin did not reply, but was amused nonetheless.

I was too, until I heard the sound of the bodies dropping and struggling against the noose. I looked ahead, seeing the men squirming as they choked, and I watched the young boy’s face go purple as he did.

I’d never been a fan of hangings. Better to cut off a man’s head, quick and clean. Though, several men among the crowd seemed pleased to watch this lot squirm, and it made me wonder what they possibly could’ve done, or attempted to do, to Jon Snow.

Eventually, they began to still, and men stood to clear out. The show was over now.

I looked up at Tywin, who I found glancing over at Arya. She showed no emotion on her face, and I had the odd impression that she’d seen plenty of death in her life. Perhaps she’d even caused some.

“I don’t think you need to worry about her of all people, Tywin,” I said, snapping him from his thoughts. He scoffed.

“I’m not worried about her.”

“If you say so.”

A group of men walked by us, smiling at me with teeth that looked dirtier than the bottom of my boots. One of them whistled, and even despite being beside Tywin, I felt extremely uncomfortable.

Tywin stepped forward a bit, pulling out his sword an inch or two. It was a warning, I knew.

The men, being impossibly stupid, approached us.

“Step away from us, men. I won’t repeat myself,” Tywin scowled, moving in front of me just a bit.

“You want to have a go at it, old man? I think I’d rather have a go with the lady here,” the man said, laughing and looking around at his friends for a sort of validation. He then settled his eyes on me, looking me up and down, and I knew Tywin was furious.

“You will not speak of her that way. If you’re smart, you’ll continue walking,” Tywin hissed, eyes lit with his distinct anger. The man was beginning to cower, clearly intimidated. Though still stupid, it seemed.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll carve your eyes from your fucking head,” he threatened, shocking even me. Tywin very seldom cursed, especially so extremely. I could recall only a few times I’d ever heard him say fuck, even during our most passionate nights, and it felt even more out of place with his anger.

In a way, it was oddly erotic, and I suddenly had a very strong desire to watch Tywin slit the man’s throat.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately in my opinion, the men finally ran away with their tail between their legs. Tywin watched them go with distinct fury in his jaw and his eyes, only relaxing once my hands met his shoulders.

“Are you alright, my dear?” He asked, turning to face me and instantly letting his gloved hands cup my face. I brought my own hands to his stubble covered cheeks.

“I’m perfectly fine, Tywin. More than fine,” I assured him, letting myself give in as he pulled me into his chest and placed one hand on the back of my head. It reminded me of the jousting incident during the tourney, and I was beginning to understand how he responded to dangerous situations. So far as I was involved, anyways.

“I’ve never heard you speak to anybody that way,” I mentioned after a moment, not moving from my place against his chest. He was quite warm, and I most certainly was not.

“I’ve never felt compelled to. Not in years, anyways. Not since I resigned as Aerys’ hand,” he revealed, stroking my hair. I realized then that I was shaking, and that the men had impacted me much more than I’d thought. Though I was certain I could’ve protected myself against them, Tywin’s protection was both welcome and comforting.

“Are you certain you’re alright?” He asked softly, moving back a bit to look me in the eyes. He was always able to read my expressions.

“I’m safe, Tywin. Let’s rejoin the others, I want to see the top of the wall now,” I assured him, taking his hands in mine. He contemplated for a moment, and then nodded. With his arm around me, we met with the Starks, who were already caught up in a conversation.

“Robb tells me you’ve been getting good with Needle, Arya,” Jon said to his younger sister, hand on the top of her head. She smiled and nodded, eyes lit up at the mention of ‘needle.’

“Lady (Y/N)’s going to help me learn to use daggers, too,” she said, not seeing us just yet. The Lord Commander’s eyebrows lifted at that.

“Oh? I suppose I’ll have to have a dagger done for you then,” he said, smiling at Tywin and I as we joined the group. He was oddly happy for someone who’d just hung several men, but I suppose being able to see his family was rewarding enough. Loras and Margaery always managed to make me feel better in any case.

“No need for that, Jon. I’ll have one made for her out of father’s sword,” Robb announced, to which Arya’s head snapped up in surprise. Her mouth fell open, and it made me smile. It reminded me of when I’d gotten my first real blade. And of when I’d gone to the smith with Tywin, whose arm I was currently holding sentimentally.

“Out of Ice? But the sword is yours, Robb. I don’t-”

“Hush, Arya. It’s a big sword, there’s enough metal for a dagger. Might even make it easier for me to wield,” Robb said with a smile, making all of us laugh. Minus Tywin, of course, who only looked content. That was about as much as you could get out of him most of the time.

“You’re going to have a hard time finding a smith who can meld valyrian steel, Robb,” Jon pointed out awkwardly, as if he didn’t want to ruin Arya’s current joy over the thought of such a weapon.

“There’s currently one in King's Landing. If you’d like, we can take the sword with us when we return. Give me the instructions and I’ll have the smith fix the weapon. You can claim it when you’re south for the wedding,” Tywin said suddenly, making everyone present fix their eyes upon him. His offer seemed to shock Robb.

“Wedding?” Jon questioned after a moment, eyebrows furrowed. I opened my mouth to speak, but Tywin beat me to it.

“I’m going to wed Lady (Y/N) in just a month and a half. You’re welcome to join your family if your position will permit it,” Tywin explained courteously, knowing that as Lord Commander, and as a man of the night’s watch in general, Jon Snow did in fact have restrictions. Jon’s face seemed to drop for a moment, but he covered it quickly and nodded.

“Thank you for the invitation, my lord.”

Robb spoke then,

“If it’s not a burden, Lord Tywin, it would be quite kind of you to take the sword with you. I’ve already got the design and instructions prepared, I can give them to you when we return to Winterfell.”

Tywin gave him a nod.

“Of course. Now, Lady (Y/N) desires to see the top of the wall. Shall we?” he suggested, motioning with his hand that we ought to go. Everyone murmured in agreement, and Rickon let out an excited giggle. I watched Jon lean toward his older brother.

“When we get back, Robb, I’ve got something I need to discuss with you. About- About my role in the night’s watch,” he whispered, though I barely heard it. I furrowed my eyebrows, but knew it was none of my business.

Our entire group was, thankfully, able to squeeze onto the elevator, but I could tell it made Tywin uncomfortable to be so tightly packed in with everyone else. To console him, I pressed myself closer to him than I actually needed to, and he evidently knew that or he wouldn’t have given me such a look.

When we reached the top, I found myself pressing against him anyway in a desperate need for warmth, as the winds were strong up here. Not to mention, the air was far colder.

Getting off of the elevator, we all hugged our cloaks especially tight, minus Jon Snow, who was quite used to the conditions.

“Follow me. I’ll show you all the best spot,” Jon shouted, waving his hand just in case we hadn’t heard. It seemed Arya and Rickon had not heard, as they quite engaged in a conversation about archery. It made me smile, especially when I recalled what conversations with my brother had been like at her age.

After walking for a little while, we found ourselves in an area that allowed us to see both sides of the wall, and I could not refrain from letting my mouth drop and eyes widen.

I grabbed Tywin’s arm, practically in shock as I admired the view before us. Never before had I seen such a few, the pure snow covering the trees, which in turn densely populated hills and mountains. I felt as if I was floating in the sky like a god, looking down upon the earth’s finest creations.

“Tywin, it’s beautiful,” I muttered, unable to pry my eyes away from the landscape. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how such a scene could exist.

“Yes… beautiful.”

The way he said it struck me as odd, and I forced myself to look at him. When I did, I found that he was not staring out at the view, but at me.

I recalled the day we’d gone hunting together and something similar had happened, and it filled me with an odd sense of warmth to know that even then he had felt at least something towards me.

Tywin’s eyes held me captive in a way, and all I could focus on was the wind as it blew through his hair. It was incredible to me that such a handsome man could exist, and it gave me the odd desire to kiss him.

I refrained, of course, knowing Tywin was not one for such public displays of affection. The last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable, especially in front of Robb Stark.

However, after a moment, one of his hands came to my waist, and the other came to my head. There, in front of the entire group, he kissed me. Well, the two children were busy looking out at the wall, but Jon Snow and Robb Stark certainly noticed us, and somehow I was proud to know that they did.

Tywin had put aside his pride, kissing me so publicly and so passionately. I had let my hands come to his chest, and I had smiled when he’d done it. Despite all his faults, and despite perhaps being an insufferable cunt, Tywin was going to be my husband. And gods, was I glad for it.

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