#Robb Stark imagine

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

70 - Conflicting Boundaries and Ties

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

Length: 21.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, flashback scene, past character death, blood and violence, disturbing imagery, references to infant death, self harm, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, over stimulation, blindfolds, bondage

Notes: No I don't know why this chapter is so bloody long, don't ask why. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It felt normal, everyone sat where they always did and food piled onto their plates without thought. A few seemed to be missing, but most of which always made their way a bit later to give the rest of them a chance to both wake up and for the youngest to get their early morning energy out of their system. Multiple times Arya had to turn to Bran and fix how he was holding his cutlery, his small hand holding each utensil with a closed fist and letting it stab down at his plate, his young mind not grasping why food wouldn’t stick when he did it. Only a year older, Arya had a good handle on bringing her little brother up to speed. Sansa kept eyeing Arya with a suspicious look, but also one with a wondering in mischief that wasn’t often seen on her face.

Across the table from them, Jon sat beside Robb hoping that his nerves did not come off of his person whatsoever. He looked more tired then usual, but the previous nights known activities could explain that. Nudging his brother in the side, Robb was the first to bring the more unusual missing person up as he gestured with a nod to the seat normally you took beside Sansa. “I’ve never seen her this late. What did you leave her out in the woods?”

If he played everything off as normal, it seemed as if his brother bought it when he shrugged one shoulder. Half finding his words through bites as if to cover up whatever would’ve come out in his speech. “If I never found her maybe.”

He felt lucky, Robb taking it much more playful then Jon knew it really was. “Didn’t think she’d be one to take losing so harshly.” Jon only jesting that maybe you were afraid they’d tease you for it right away, a grin shared between both brothers as Robb only muttered, “Well, we would.”

Jon could thank the gods no one could hear his heart by the time you made your way into the dining hall, otherwise they’d worry he was about to die, even if he felt like it anyways.

Nothing looked out of place, you had dried from the rain of the night before and your dress was different as if it wouldn’t be the next day, but Jon thought he hated it. The image burned into his mind was of last night, how you looked with the rain soaking your hair that it stuck to where it touched your neck, how it all drenched your dress and even though you had been dressed in more leathers for so much time outdoors, what soft fabrics covered you still had clung to you.

Swallowing roughly whatever of his food he had been chewing, he tried not to think back to the way as you heaved to catch your breath looking up at him, the way he had almost noticed for the first time just how much mature your body had changed to be almost without him noticing. You always covered up so modestly, that until your clothes stuck to you in the rain did Jons eyes, without you even noticing, tear down to your chest as you breathed heavily, the thought of whether or not they’d fit perfectly for his hands, but he dared not make any move like that.

Here as you walked in, you were innocent. Hair mostly pulled back save for loose strands you always liked to lay at the sides of your face, the braids done behind your back in a fashion he’d only ever seen on you before. Something you once told him was a sort of style that was common amongst women from the Stormlands, a complete contrast to the night before where your hair had fallen loose around you. If he curled his hand into a fist perhaps Jon could still feel the way the strands were soft and soaked between his fingers. Your dress long and warm this time, hiding away much of what men would describe as the body of a woman.

It drove Jon mad sitting there as all traces of the night before were nowhere on you, and how normal and calm you appeared without even glancing at him. Not even in an avoiding manner, as if you continued your day now as if nothing happened. No one noticed how tightly Jon held the fork in his hand to the point his knuckles turned white looking at you.

Instead of taking your seat, you found your way behind both girls, crouching down with raised eyebrows as you muttered between them. Not enough for no one else to hear, but quiet enough to indicate you only meant to speak to them. “Now, either you can both come with me. Or, we can wait until your mother comes down and all four of us can have a long chat with Septa Mordane and get to the bottom of this.”

Just as Arya tried to protest that it was Sansa’s fault, did Sansa protest that she didn’t do anything and it made both Robb and Jon smile at how little your knowing expression changed. Both turned to look at you, and that time Sansa at only six, tried very hard to act as calm and mature as you despite the blatant look of fear in her eyes of disappointing you. “I only did it because Arya did it to me first.”

It was lost on her that she sounded exactly like the small girl she was and not anywhere near as mature as you were almost ten years her senior. Tilting your head you only looked at her until her own gaze dropped with guilt, turning then to Arya. Jon knew whatever it was his sisters had done, you’d give Arya a little more slack considering she was only four, which her answer matched that. “I did not-” Sansa only snapping back that she did, and Arya cutting back in with a louder, “Prove it.”

A smirk, you pushed up to your full height before taking the matter out of their hands. Picking up Arya with ease at her size, you plucked her down onto her feet before half turning to look back at Sansa. “Either we handle this now with just myself, or your mother and Septa will determine what punishment is suitable.”

Both hands nudging the girls out of the room, if it were any normal day Jon wouldn’t have considered anything that you said nothing to him. But still, his heart pounded as he sat there with narrowing eyes watching where you were no longer in sight. You seemed calm and normal about this though, nothing like you were upset or mad or different in any way. Maybe that was a better sign then anything else.

No one knew, and neither of you gave away that there was anything to know. It made his day easier to get through. One thing, then the next, only sometimes did you make an appearance throughout Jons day spent mostly him with Robb, but normally you’d only show up with Theon in toe. No one in Winterfell thought you were acting different, and it made Jon relax immensely. No one treated him as if he were acting different.

By the time evening fell over the sky, Jon walked back to his chambers considering if he were hungry enough to even think about joining everyone for supper. The thought was rather boyish, but that if you were going to be there, he might find worth in it after all. Maybe he’d change through first. Take off his heaviest layers, wash up as if you needed impressing.

He didn’t notice until he already closed the door. The nervous figure standing in the middle of his room, hands wringing together in front of them with wide eyes and a matching expression that told him there was nothing but gut wrenching anxiety behind it all. Gently calling your name in question, you nearly turned to him with a startled gasp. As if you stood there nothing but nerves, and nothing like the normal girl you were during the day.

Opening and closing your mouth, he could see that the manner of yourself in the day was nothing but a facade. One falling apart before him as he stood there, but the moment he took a step towards you did you take two away, turning from him somewhat. Your voice soft but a stammer. “I- I came to apologize.”

Face twisting in confusion right away, Jon took a hesitant step towards you even when you weren’t looking. “Apologize?” You didn’t look at him as you nodded, just wrapped the shall around your arms over you more as if to hide away. Turning to attempt to glance back at him but never fully committing as you looked to nothing. “Apologize for what?”

Your brows furrowed, turning to him in your own frustrated confusion. “What do you mean for what?”

For a moment, both of you stood there. Feet from each other feeling as if it were miles. Both too afraid to approach as if it would spook the other, but really the only one at risk with such emotions were you. Something wide and almost shining behind your eyes that looked as if one wrong misstep here and he’d pull tears from you. Which spoke to him that something more serious was going on in your head. You never cried. Or, you never wanted to cry in front of anyone.

Tilting his head to implore you to give him something to go off of, you bit down on your tongue as you looked away only to inhale before speaking. Still not looking back at him. “For last night. I-” As you cut yourself off, Jon felt something twist in his stomach.

This couldn’t happen. Not now, not so soon. He’d never been happier then he was last night and it was all about to be for nothing. Jon was sure, he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t sure. He knew it, he felt it, but now his own heart pounded painfully unsure if he read it wrong, and what that meant for your friendship going forward. The fear flowing through his blood that he had ruined everything.

Looking back at him though, something soft and vulnerable was on your face but the expression was strange as it tinted in shame and guilt. But not a judgmental one, a personal one, an upsetting one. “I should never have done what I did last night. When we..it was wrong, it was inappropriate, and I know I never should’ve put you in that situation.”

Jon took another step closer, now that fear turned to pure confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I did, Jon.” A raise in your voice lowered, looking around the room as if terrified everyone in the castle could hear you yelling before turning to mostly a mutter only he could hear. “I know better then that. Not to...” Repeating you, as not to what, trying to prompt you into being honest. Jon felt confused about what you were really trying to say now, but hearing it out loud hit him in a way he didn’t expect. “I didn’t mean to- I tempted you into it.” You begun to pace along his floor. “Being alone with you so late at night with no one around, the rain, my clothes, everything. It was wrong of me to put you in that situation.”

Truly, for a moment, Jon had no words as you looked at him with the watering in your eyes wishing to turn to tears as you elaborated. “If you need distance from me...or if you wish for your father to send me back home again, I’ll understand.”

His chambers were dead silent but the fire crackling beside him. Sometimes, Jon could forget. That you were younger then him. In two months, you’d reach your sixteenth name day but Jon had been eighteen for nearly half the year now. He’d been a man practically since you arrived a year and a half ago, but you were younger, and so much more innocent.

It was easy for Jon to grasp on his end, he knew he had never kissed someone before and he didn’t hesitate to share it with you. But you weren’t where he was. You likely had never even considered having your first kiss until bloody marriage the way you were raised so strictly. Everything the women in your life had taught you, the Seven, your Septa that Jon hated even though he never met her.

Jon kissed you last night, and you stood in his chambers now afraid that you had tempted him into it, and it was your fault. That you had done something wrong.

Sighing deeply, Jon took a step forward before his hand reached out. As if taming a spooked horse, he silently asked if he could come close. You looked at him wearily before nodding, and looking away again, the shall wrapping tighter around you. Coming up to your side, the nerves clearly hit you strongly as you turned away from him. Not stepping away, but your back now facing him not able to handle looking at him with your guilt.

Without second thought though, Jon let a hand raise. Come up to your upper arm, while the other found gentle and light at your waist. The term slipped from his tongue with ease, rasping and strong as if it was as natural as saying your name. “Darling, I need you to listen to me.” He waited until you nodded, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything in the first place. You didn’t tempt me, or seduce me or whatever it is everyone down south is putting in your head. I kissed you. Not the other way around.”

Your voice was a meek mutter, “I kissed you back, I encouraged you. You- men are different, and I shouldn’t have encouraged it when you didn’t want-”

He could tell his chuckle confused you. “Who says I didn’t want to?” You had no reply, nor did you have any idea of an answer he knew. “I kissed you, because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time. Is it the kiss itself you’re upset about, or because it was with me?”

You didn’t really think about it, the way you turned to look up at him right away with wide, distressed eyes. Not realizing how close you stood with his hands on you, and how the stance had you and Jon pressed right up against each other. “No, that wasn’t it I promise-”

Moving the hand on your arm, Jon brushed some of the loose strands of hair at your side behind your ear, letting his hand trace to your cheek as this thumb ran over the soft skin. “Let me make this easy. Did you like it? When I kissed you?” Your nod was so shy Jon’s eyes could’ve rolled into the back of his head. “One more question.” Leaning down, he tilted your head up to look at him. “Did you want to try again?”

“Now?” Jon nodded, a stammer coming back over you as he felt your muscles twitching under his touch as if wanting to run.

Narrowing his eyes at you, Jon moved you to sit at the edge of his bed. Facing him as he sat beside you, your arms loosened their hold on the shall a little, his hand still cupping your cheek as he leaned over to you. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did, and there’s nothing wrong with the fact that you liked it. It was a kiss, darling. I didn’t tear your clothes off and take you against the tree.” The bright grin Jon had as you flushed terribly, looking away with a complete stammer.

You were so innocent about things, but he had never found it more endearing then that moment.

Your hands finally fell to your lap, fingertips toying with each other, voice soft. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.” He knew what you meant, but he nudged you to look up at him with his hand under your chin, his eyes asking you to explain. “I’m supposed to wait until I marry-”

Jons grin grew. “To what? To kiss a man?” Your embarrassment tried making you turn away, but with something a bit more playful added to it. Muttering your name, he tilted you to look back at him as he leaned close. “We don’t have to do it again, we don’t have to do anything. But you need to understand you didn’t do anything wrong, and I kissed you, because I’ve always wanted to kiss you. And if you ever want to do it again, I’ll be right here.”

That time your brows narrowed. Something a bit girlish in the way you let it mutter out in an embarrassed sort of jealousy he could sense you wished to cover up. “Why though? Why do you want to kiss me? You have plenty of other girls-” Jon interrupted with a gentle laugh asking what girls when you begun to stammer again. “The other girls..you..the ones who you kissed before me..”

Jon tilted your head to meet his bright gaze, “You’re the only one I’ve ever kissed, darling. The only girl I’ve ever wanted to kiss.” There was both an innocence but a hopefulness in the way you looked up at him, as if possibly everything was going to be alright. “This is new for both of us, but, we can do it together. However fast or slow you want.”

Jon knew it would be slow, very slow. But as you looked up brightly at him with a hope in your eyes even more prominent, he knew that taking it slow would be perfectly fine as long as it was with you. “I think I’d like that.” Prompting you to elaborate, there was a soft but embarrassed smile as you said it, the words foreign on your innocent lips. “...to kiss you again..”

He was as new at this all as you were, but still did it feel natural for Jon to take the reigns. Leaning close, cupping your cheek as his lips hovered over yours. Your eyes slipped closed, his hot breath dancing across your skin as his grey eyes looked down to your lips with a deep rasp. “We can do this as much as you like, I promise.”

For a moment, Jon waited to see if you’d close the gap, but he knew better. He was still correct. You were younger, far more naive and innocent about physical feelings and as close to a woman as you were, Jon still was the man. He had to ease you into it, make you feel safe. And for now, being the one to kiss you, was what made you feel safe.

His eyes slipping shut, Jon closed the gap. His lips connecting gentle to your softer ones. Slow and chaste, but just as you had on instinct last night, responded right away. Moving with his kiss but letting Jon dictate everything about it. Your hands slowly reached forward, finding his upper chest, slipping to his shoulders as Jon cupped both your cheeks and turned you to his mercy.

More and more he deepened it, but never without slowly guiding you. One kiss, then another, barley able to even describe it as pulling away before Jon kissed you again. By the time he pulled away, your eyes still closed as Jons fluttered open to look down at you. Pressing a firm kiss to your forehead, Jon very gently let his nose nudge into yours to gain your attention. “Do you want me to ask everytime, or is it alright if I just kiss you again?”

Luckily, he read your nod. Pressing his lips back to yours. Both of you sat on the edge of his bed, nothing intense or even perverse about the gentle, intimate manner Jon kissed you with. His hands by your cheek and hair, yours clinging to his shoulders as if trusting him to lead you.

Jon knew what he felt, he knew it for a long time. He wouldn’t say it, but he felt exactly as he did last night too. Jon knew what love felt like, and he had found it nowhere but in your sweet and gentle kiss.

Yet, it didn’t feel like it was staying that way. Jon could feel you, taste, you, hear you but further and further did you seem to drift away from him. Out of reach of his arms and touch as the room around him grew cold. Too did everything change as Jon looked around. No longer sitting, he stood in the middle of his room until the his head whipped around, hearing screaming. Your screams echoing along his own walls as if they were made rock echoing at him. His hands raised up to his view, soaked in blood as you screamed more and more. Turning one way, he looked back towards his bed where it no longer was.

You laid against what looked like a cave wall, eyes open but unmoving. Soaked in blood like his hands, and the lifeless body of a small blood soaked infant in your arms. The screaming had faded as you and your son had from life, but the lingering horror tearing his eyes up did not last. Instead, Jon was forced away from you to a sound of crashing against the walls. Turning around and around you had disappeared, but now he stood in his room alone, but with walls made of wood.

Banging and clawing and smashing and suddenly did deathly arms break through. Faces torn and rotted and bone but with eyes shining blue as they clawed their way to the inside of Jons chambers. Dressed in blacks and leathers with Longclaw at his side, he heard fighting and shouting and death all around as they tried to get in. Each wall they tore down Jon could see around him. The snow blowing around everywhere and the white cold freezing beyond compare.

Just as they crashed inside, burst through as those outside the room in the cold died by the thousands did they circle him. But when Jon spun to face them, he was unarmed. He was lost, confused, and in the dark of the courtyard of Castle Black. In his hand, he clutched tightly a note with a paper tinged ever so slightly in pink before the wights which approached him.

One, then the next, each wight wore the face of his brothers. Most watched and did nothing. In his stomach he felt two at first. Right in his stomach and another not so far, the wight with blue eyes but the face of Ser Alliser. The next the same, but the face of Othell Yarwick, again in the stomach and one more by his hip. The next wight both in the chest, and the face of Bowen Marsh. The final was the most confusing, a knife plunged right in his heart as he could see Olly mouthing the words, “For the Watch.” But Jon could not hear them.

The cold fades around him, as water and green and lush surrounded as he fell backward against the ground, wounds bleeding out. As if armour had been covering him he felt heavy, and the wights fighting around him were nothing but living men in a battle. He could not make out the face which stood over him, but held in their hands was a great war hammer. And just as it was to come down, shattering his bones to pieces did Jon whisper a name.

His insides told him to whisper one womans name, but Jon laid there and whispered another. The name of the voice he could hear echoing in the distance, his own name right back. And just as the hammer found his chest, did Jon awake with a horrible startle.

Hands grasping at his arm, you leaned down right into his curls with a gentle shush. “Jon, breathe for me, it’s alright.” One gasp after the next, did Jon lay on his side struggling to seek his breathe. He had torn awake suddenly, tearing from your gasp as if the dream he had, had forced him into being awake with a jump. Turning to the side with his palms against the sheets hardly able to breathe like it had been taken away from him.

Pushing yourself more as Jon sat up more, his feet finding the floor but not committing to standing did you drape yourself gentle along his back. One hand by his waist, you reached the other to slid under his arm and seek out his heart. Scar and all you felt it pounding under your hand, but Jon reached his own up. Snatching yours and clutching it in the same spot tightly.

Your head leaned into his neck with your lips leaving gentle presses to his skin as his now more sweat dampened curls didn’t bother you in the slightest. Your voice hardly a murmur, but whispered light in his ear. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

His eyes remained closed for a moment as he tried to control his breathing. Not willing to let go of your hand, you continued to match the gesture with your lips not leaving his skin. Neck, his cheek, side of his head whatever you reached to try and lull him back to you. Feeling his head lean back into you, did you nuzzle right back. The hand on his waist curling around to press more to the scars along his stomach, not even realizing the degree to which your touch against the wounds was bringing Jon back down so quickly.

Letting his breathing even out, Jons eyes opened to the room. The fireplace the only light in front of him, but it was his chambers. The same ones his dream showed, where he kissed you the night after the first time. Only now, it was many years later, and he was the one in pieces as you kneeled behind him with gentle words and a sweet touch to bring him back to you.

His voice strained with a rasp, as if he had been yelling fiercely, despite silent in his sleep. “I’m sorry I woke you.” Shaking your head, you leaned back down into his neck muttering not to be. You felt his back lean more into your touch, his free hand rising up to run his hands through what he could of your hair, his fingers dancing through the soft strands with a sigh like he felt relieved. It took him a good minute to say anything, as if finding the courage too. “Normally they don’t wake me up like that.”

Your hand free along his chest run along the skin you could reach, feeling his muscles relax each passing motion. “You called my name out.” Your voice just a tender mumble in his ear. “Right before you woke up, you called to me quietly, like you were afraid.” His brows furrowed, you only nuzzling the side of his head more. “You don’t have to tell me, Jon. It’s alright.”

Shaking his head, he swallowed back down that fear now that he could feel and hear you in what he knew was the present. “It wasn’t just one thing.” You didn���t let go of your hold on him as he spoke. “It was about us, at first. When we were younger, then..everything kept changing. I was back at Hardhome, then Castle Black the night they murdered me. And you-” Jon dared not tread into the screams and sight of you he saw. Refusing to even bring it up to you, not just remind you of it, but not wishing for you to know he dreamt of it near every night. You leaned more into him with a tighter grasp, even as Jon relaxed more. “Then...I don’t know. I’ve dreamt of it before but I never figure out what it is. I was in a field..a battle..I was on the ground about to die when I tried calling out to you, then I heard your voice and I woke up.”

A gentle whisper in his ear, “We all have nightmares sometimes-”

“Like the ones you pretend you don’t get every night?” It wasn’t an accusatory tone, but it caught you off guard. Pulling back only enough to look over his shoulder more at him in a wide eyed question before he shook his head. “If you get to comfort me after mine, why don’t I get to after yours?”

Voice very quiet, but you knew Jon always heard you. “You’d never get any sleep if you did.”

Jon actually chuckled deep in his chest, a small bemused smirk coming over him as he turned somewhat to try and meet your eyes. Letting go of the hand over his heart to try and reach back to you, feeling the ends of your hair as his grey eyes grew a bit brighter looking at you. “I’m awake to know when you have a nightmare more then you think I am.” Asking why, almost in a purposefully playful tone to ease him back into things Jon only let his fingers trace over your cheek that he could reach. “Whose going to protect you if I’m asleep?”

Heart tight, you leaned more to grasp at him now as if for your sake. “We protect each other.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you gently pulled at him to follow as you moved behind. “Come on, we still have a little while before the baby wakes up.”

Instead of Jon resuming how he normally slept, on his side pulling you firm into his chest, you took the reigns with a gentle hand. Laying a bit more up against the bed, and pulling Jon down to rest more against your front. His hands able to grasp onto either side of you as he lay somewhat on his front and side against you. His legs reaching the end of the bed whereas yours higher up didn’t go nearly as far. One hand ran over his shoulder and back, the other not hesitating to find his curls and run your fingers through them, never allowing them to snag on a strand.

Mumbling into your front, you could tell how quickly Jon was fading back into sleep. “We’re not laying like this every night.”

A gentle laugh you weren’t even sure if it hit his ears as his breathing evened out against you. Always the one to comfort you, you suspected sometimes Jon forgot he had been through just as much pain and horror. That he still had things to haunt him. Your eyes tore between looking up to the stone ceiling, and back down watching Jon sleep as your hands never ceased running through his curls.

You knew come morning he likely wouldn’t be very willing to admit what had been in his dreams specifically, but you felt thankful he at least allowed you to give him this. That he allowed himself to be held by you for once, not to push down his struggles for your struggles.

By the time the sun peeked through the windows, you weren’t sure you slept much after that. Dozed off a few times, but you knew most of the time you had never let go of Jon or your gentle touch. By the looks of where the brightness was in the sky, Jon would’ve been awake before you by this point, but still his muscles felt dead to the world.

Glancing over, it was as if as long as Jon was asleep this deep, so was his son. You’d have to wake him soon to feed him, but both wolf and pup were as gone to the waking world as the other. A gentle knock at the door though, your eyes flew down to Jon, but still he did not stir. A smile crept on your lips, and this you had begun the painful process of sneaking out from his touch. Still asleep his brows furrowed as he reached out to grab at you, but you prompted him more to relax, laying on his front.

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hands running down his back gently before getting up from the bed. Pulling something warm over you quickly just to cover up modestly, you creaked the door open only enough so that you could be seen and nothing else.

Both Sam and Olly seemed to have been bantering over something as they stood outside the door, but much to both their surprises, you were not who they expected. Part of you could only wonder, how often did Jon open the door in the early hours of the morning sending people off not to disturb you while still asleep, yourself. Your voice a quiet tone to try and ensure they didn’t speak too loudly. “What is it?”

Looking to Olly, it seemed you being there had taken them both off guard. Sam attempting to sound as normal as possible, as if otherwise he’d be coming off as awkward. “Well, I was just hoping to see Jon about something-”

“Is it urgent?” Sams head jolted back a bit by your more stern question, even moreso when you repeated yourself. “Is it urgent? Does he have to speak to you right now, or can it wait?” Sam only commenting that of course it could wait, and interrupted before he could say anything else. “Good. Now..now isn’t a good time.”

You could tell for a moment that Sam’s instinct was to make a joke about much more physical affairs, as if that was one he’d normally make to Jon. But meeting your eyes, there was something he could see in them that told you would not take that very well, for whatever it was it was serious he seemed to pick up. “I only thought, because Jons normally-” Shaking his head to cut himself off did he change routes. “If you could just tell him that I need to talk to him about something, sometime today.”

Nodding firmly, “Of course.” Sam looked at you and then Olly before making his way. Your glance at Olly though, was more hesitant. Part of Jons dream he said, that night at Castle Black. The Olly in front of you now was very different no doubt then the one holding a knife that night, but still you thought. Jon didn’t often have so blatantly bad dreams, and you wanted to take care of him as he would you. “Maybe, you should come back later too.”

Olly’s brows furrowed, “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t buy your smile, nor did it last long enough on your face for it to be meant too. “It is, it’s..” Trying to put it as diplomatically as possible, you didn’t want any hint of guilt put on the boy for something that had been long discussed over again. “It’ll just be a slower start to the morning is all. Jon needs time before everything else today.”

Hesitating at your expression, but he did not fight you. “I understand, your grace. Should I pass that onto the maids?” Asking if he would please, Olly too made his leave as you closed the door.

The timing couldn’t have worked better, as one stirred awake before the other. A small sound crying into the morning air of the bedchambers, little Eddard breaking a smile out onto you without delay. Walking over to his cradle, you leaned down to let your hand rest at his front. “And how were your dreams last night?” Just a small babble with a smile did his make yours grow wider. “Good. At least one of you had an easy night.” Picking the baby up into your arms, he wasn’t yet impatient to be fed, just leaning into you as you held him more high against your chest to rest against at first. One hand holding him firmly, the other resting comfortingly along his back, not unlike the exact manner you had done lulling Jon back to sleep.

Looking over, you turned so the baby too could see him. Little head turning as he still rested it against you, a hand reaching out with a tiny cry as you smiled. Looking at Jon then the baby with a whisper, “Let him sleep more, silly boy. You and I can get through one morning on our own without him.”

By the time Jon stirred awake, his voice was a grumbling husk so heavy with sleep his accent was thick to follow. Glancing over to his side of the bed, Jon had turned onto his side facing you, letting his elbow prop him up to watch you closely. “Wish I could make up to this more often.”

You laughed gently, leaning against the headboard, you held the baby to your breast to feed, a tired but relax look on your face as you had been gazing down at the baby and even brighter now looking at Jon. “You could if you let yourself sleep in more.”

Shaking his head, Jon pushed up right away. Coming up to your side, and slinking his arms behind you and tugging you into him without jostling the baby. Kissing the skin below your ear before Jon rasped into it, “I can’t take care of you if I’m asleep and you’re not.” Muttering with a playfulness that he didn’t always have to take care of you, Jons brows furrowed as if you said something ludicrous. “Of course I do.” His lips pressed firmer to the hair at the side of your head, leaning down against you as his hand wrapped around to your waist and his other traced along your front. Pushing the material of your shift up, not for any indecency but so he could freely run his hand along your stomach, smoothing over the scar that matched the fatality in his.

The morning quiet for a few minutes as you both watched your son feed from you, Jon unable to help himself most of the time from turning into your hair with his lips to follow. Sometimes trailing down to your neck, but never yet pushing it too far. One hand always against your stomach quite firmly, as if so you always could feel he was there.

Neither of you yet spoke about his nightmare, but at least for the time being, there was peace between the three of you as long as you stayed in the little bubble of Jons chambers together. If only it lasted.

Forearms leaned across the table, your fingernails dug mindlessly into the wood as your face felt permanently twisted in thought. It had felt like that for the past hour, the men around you all discussing more then you could comprehend all together and eventually you found yourself lost in the whirlwind of theory and information being shared.

Having started from the top, the original intention was to relay everything of what they knew now and what occurred to both Stannis and Ser Davos, only for the interrupting figure of Ser Royce entering the room before they begun, his tone rough and on the side of doubtful, but when on this topic, doubt was something Jon was very used to being sent his way. “If the Queen is right, and these things are responsible for what happened to my son, then I want to hear about it. All of it.”

More then once your eyes would turn from the table, head spinning just enough to look over your shoulder to where the door to the side room was still partially open. On the fur laid out by the fire, Gilly was sat with little Sam, an easy to read book in her hands, and Sam in her lap as she slowly and quietly read the words. Helping Sam point along to each she read, sometimes prompting him to say certain ones back. A bit beside her, you could see the small cradle on the ground as well where your son was laying.

Sometimes you’d look and he was unmoving, clearly asleep. Other times you’d hear the occasional faint sound coming from him as a limb would move. If it was loud enough, Gilly sometimes would turn from Sam to give the baby bright smiling attention with ease. This time however when she glanced upward, with a more nervous swallow and bite to her lip did she look wearily at you. An attempt to act as if she was still looking at you in a normal way, but the manner she diverted her gaze quickly back down to little Sam told that she knew she couldn’t keep it up for long.

Eyes glancing back to the discussion around you, your shoulders deflated, feeling like your brows furrowed more and you turned inward on yourself. Pretending you didn’t feel Jons gaze on you each time your mood grew more dour each time Gilly would no longer talk to you.

Around you though, a thorough discussion was being had as the question was brought up, asked by Ser Davos as he gestured to you. “Why her though? I only mean both times wights attacked any of you in a group, they always went for her first.” Many things tossed about at first, being a woman, looking the most venerable, or that maybe you were simply just convenient in both instances.

Sam shook his head at most. “Nothing I’ve been able to find says anything about that. During the Long Night, they make no mention that women or children were exempt or special in anyway when the dead came through.”

Tormund rumbled from where he sat, giving Jon a more knowing look drenched in a darkness shared between a horror none here but them had seen. “Boys right. When they hit us at Hardhome, it didn’t matter who was in their way. A whole group of those things were children when they attacked Karsi.” Jon only muttering roughly to add that then she too was woken up into one of them.

It was your father who brought it up, directed at Sam. “You killed one of them, with a piece of obsidian. What happened before then, that could possibly tell us anything?”

That time it was Sam whose eyes went over to Gilly, but instead of a fear he once may have still held, there was something more brave in him finally as he spoke of it. “It didn’t care about me at all. It just threw me out of the way trying to get to Gilly. Or, well, she said it was here for the baby.”

Jons face twisted downward as he looked away, eyes closing for the length it took to roughly exhale through his nose before answering the why being asked in result. “Because that’s what Craster was doing to his sons.” All eyes looked at him, and yours barley flickered over as well with a knowing that only made you feel heavy in your limbs. “Everytime one of his wives had a baby boy, he’d wait until nightfall, then take them out to the woods and leave them there. So the Others could take them.”

“How do you know that?” Jon met Benjens gaze who looked the most like he believed it but still something exasperated in his tone that most all held hearing it now. “His wives used to say strange things about it, that they were gifts to the gods but I never..”

Swallowing rough once more, Jons hands braced against the table curled more into fists as if to relieve the tension somewhere. “I saw it. I followed Craster in the woods one night, and saw him leave his son out there. And I saw what came and took it away.” The wide look in his grey eyes as he found Sam, head tilting with something of a silent apology trying to follow. “It was there for the baby. Probably came to collect, and when the mutineers took over the keep, it went looking for the child.”

The glance shared between Meera and Bran caught both your and Jons attention. “We heard a baby in the middle of the woods, early on before we were captured by those men.”

Bran nodded, his eyes finding Jons as if too putting things together at just how close to this winding mystery they all were at separate times. “I went out in Summers mind trying to see what was happening, but before I did, I saw Ghost.” Jon standing up a bit straighter with a narrowing in his eyes. “They had him locked up in a cage, but Summer fell into a trap before I could see anything else. The next morning when we went to go look, was when they found us.”

Jon looking to Sam with something a bit more agitated playing close to his chest, “You and Gilly were already at Castle Black when that happened. Which means it was another boy they-” Cutting himself off in thought, Jon forced the thought through without blame for the women, he knew it wasn’t their fault for it. “They must have convinced Karl and the rest that it needed to be done.”

But Bran had pointed out what the glaring issue was as he mentioned to you, “But neither time they attacked her had anything to do with the baby. He wouldn’t even have been born when she got attacked at the Nightfort, and north of the Wall they attacked her when she was alone. If they wanted the baby, wouldn’t they have gone right for him, just like the Others did with Sam and Gilly?”

That time, you and Jon knew everyone saw the uncertain look shared between you. Neither of you tried to hide it, nor did either of you hide what expressions followed. Jons with that of frustration, yours much more of something helpless and defeated as you turned to look back at your nails still failing to scratch into the wooden surface. “What? What is it?”

Jon chose the hard path, but too the direct one. “In both times, the Nightfort and that day in the Haunted Forest. She was there both times, but what about her is different then anyone else was who was there too?”

A woman was out, as Meera and Yara were present the second time. The second time could’ve been called an easy target when alone but you were in the room with Theon the first, and Tormund and Olly both were just outside the room when it happened. You were unarmed properly the second time but armed the first. All options thrown about seemed to go nowhere until it dawned on one of them.

It seemed fitting that it first came from Bran. “The Andals.” Most eyes looked to him, but Jons only looked to yours. You felt them, but didn’t look at up at them. “The four at the Nightfort, and when we were north of the Wall. We’re all descendants of the First Men, but she isn’t.”

Tormund looked to him in a doubt, “I’ve seen my people and southerners alike get carved up by those things. Didn’t matter who they were.”

Bran kept going, his eyes narrowed as if putting it together in his mind from pieces he knew, pieces he saw, and everything else he’s head. “That was before, when the Nights Watch and Free Folk were both constantly north of the Wall. They still had men to collect for an army at that point.” Jon looked over to Tormund with a nod, Hardhome. An attack meant to collect the Free Folk left and gain the most of their army from what was far North they could, and they succeeded in the tens of thousands. Sam asking what that had to do with you being a descendant of the Andals, but again Jon caught your eye.

Yours were wide but with hardly any brightness in them, a tilt of your head slightly to the side to indicate that he should just say it. That at least, was something you both knew, for better or worse, though most of it continued to point to worse. “In some way, we know parts of each others languages. The Others using old runes to leave messages. The old stories say the Long Night ended with one man finding a way to defeat the Others, but we know better. One man isn’t enough to lead a battle to victory, not against them.” Jons eyes trapped back not dissimilar to somewhat of the disturbed way they looked when he awoke so violently that morning. “I killed one of them with Longclaw, and then one raised up tens of thousands they just killed. That was a message too. That it doesn’t matter how many of them I or any one else kill, they’ll always have more power against us then we do them.”

Leaning more to where Jon stood, Sam asked “What are you saying?”

That time when Jon looked at you, you knew you failed at giving him anything comforting, as if it all had left that morning behind safe in his chambers and had no part out with everyone else anymore. But his eyes were soft, trying to assure you, but you felt too distant and strained in your chest to be able to understand what he said in any specific of the silence. “The Dawn Age started when the First Men made peace with the Children of the Forest. Some treaty not to fight each other anymore. We may have enough weapons and dragon glass to defend ourselves and the people we love, but not enough to take down an army of that size. And we know we didn’t kill them. If we did, they wouldn’t be here now. They just left.”

Stannis put it together in words as some were still connecting it. “You’re saying that the First Men made an arrangement of peace with the Others?” Jon nodded with his muscles rather tense. “What does that have to do with their attacks on my daughter?”

“If they made some kind of deal to end it, it was thousands of years before the Andals ever came over to Westeros. They may not know the difference between the Free Folk and the Northerners living on the other side of the Wall, but they know the difference between the people they made a deal with, and the ones that they never agreed to have peace with.”

A loud scratch had you nearly flinching, the right painful degree of pressure pushed downwards to scratch into the rough wooden table just as you matched in how hard you bit down on your tongue, keeping your face twisted but unmoving, and hopefully to any but Jon, unreadable.

Tormund and Sam both brought up that they attacked the free folk, Northerners, and they didn’t care, but Jon too had an answer that you both knew, was far more confident then a man just figuring it out as he spoke them. “It could be two options.” First looking to Tormund, “They saw your people as necessary casualties to build their army.” The second he looked to the rest of them. “Or they see our mixing with Southerners as breaking whatever deal the First Men made thousands of years ago.”

Shaking his head, Sam looked as in disbelief as everyone else, only he had the courage to say something about it. “What kind of deal-” Jon only muttered that he had no idea, that it was over eight thousand years ago, which Sam relented. “Any information on the Long Night since has all but disappeared, I suppose that disappeared as well. But why now? The Andals came over four thousand years ago, the Rhoynar not long after that, why only wake up now?”

It was not lost on either of you, that you said it, so Jon didn’t have to trap himself in what could’ve come off as a lie. “That’s what we are still trying to figure out. We have ideas, but not the whole picture.” It wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t quite the truth, and your nails continuing to carve into the wood meant you missed the grateful but needing look Jon had given you for it knowing he didn’t know how to say it or even what to say about it. Neither of you hardly understood it yet as much as you knew.

Ser Davos asked a very good question however, “How do you know that? The Andals and the First Men, how can you be sure that’s why they’d attack her instead of any of you?” Jon only saying that he and you went beyond the Wall in the first place to find answers like that. “So, what do we do? If whatever this treaty existed doesn’t apply anymore, what do we do?”

Jons answer was tinted in more vagueness then he was letting off, but it still was the right one. “Exactly what we’ve been doing. Prepare to fight, and hope the rest of the Kingdoms join us before it’s too late.”

Sitting down, his hand running over his face, Ser Royce looked up to Jon. “I never knew your father to be a man to lie in such outlandish ways, Jon Arryn himself raised him to value the truth. I may not know what the rest of the Lords in the Vale will think about any of this, but if Ned Stark were the one telling me all of this, I’d believe him. Which means I have every reason to believe what his son is telling me now.”

Jon nodded, a strain in his low tones. “I’m not asking you to believe me without question, but I’ve seen what the Others can do. Sam’s seen it, Tormund’s seen it. What the army of the dead will do to us if they breach the Wall, and even if the North somehow manages to protect itself, you, your people, no one in the south will be safe. And the Others won’t care how much you didn’t believe us.”

You could see why Ser Royce would be a man that greatly respected Ned Stark, the blunt manner he got to the point without being rude about it. “If I did choose to believe all this, what would you have us do?”

Right away Jon had an answer, and a powerful one. “Train. Your people all need to train. Spears, pikes, sword, bow and arrow. Every man who can hold a stick needs to be able to fight, and if they all fall, then your women and children need to know how to fight all the same.”

Leaning forward, he had the same expression that many of the men in the hall had the day Jon said it to the North. The same one that your father and Ser Davos now were wearing as Ser Royce said it. “My youngest granddaughter’s tenth nameday is this year. Do you expect me to put a sword in her hand when she’d barley be able to hold it up?”

Your nails only dug deeper, to the point you wondered if the stinging you were feeling was actually drawing blood, but you had not the will to drag your hand from it’s position to do so as Jon said it. “If winter doesn’t kill us all before I get a chance to have a daughter of my own, I won’t hesitate to train her exactly as I will my son.”

You knew no doubt to the southern men, all fathers in their own rights looked at Jon as if he had said something completely mad. But, your eyes only tore up to the side to look at your fathers, a narrowing glare to not stay in silence when you knew he understood Jon was right. Whether or not he felt pressure from you, or he found it willing in him to say it, did Stannis speak up in Jons defence. Saying your name as you hadn’t yet looked away from your father in a stare that could only be described as eerily matching of his own. “She came home to Dragonstone at twelve, someone had begun to teach her the basics of sword fighting while she was gone. I didn’t like it, I had never intended for her to learn. Fighting wasn’t for girls. But, she already started, and it would be a waste to let those lessons go nowhere. So I kept them going. I could only imagine how unprepared for this threat or the world she would be now, if no one bothered to start her on that path in the first place.”

Neither of you said anything how he had somehow figured out it was Jon, nor did you suspect Jon knew either. Only feeling his eyes in the back of your head as he spoke. “Ser Royce, I can only tell you what I told my people when they said the same thing as you. I hate every single time she’s anywhere near a fight or battle, but I’d never want to take away the fact that knowing how to defend herself has saved her own life more then I ever have.”

Were you not in a room with so many people, or your nails finally wanting you to scream in pain, you might have looked up to him with a brightness that Jon would know was a protest. You knew how to defend yourself because of him, even if he didn’t swing the sword in every instance, you still owed all of it to Jon for knocking you to the dirt in the courtyard with a training sword in the first place.

Ser Royce sat in thought, “I cannot promise anything, and I won’t until I know in my soul this all is true, but I could speak to the other Lords of the Vale. At least push the stubborn old bastards in the right direction.” Glancing at him, his face didn’t change any from how rough it was but his tone did take on what felt like a rare jest towards Jon. “No offence meant of course.”

You could hear Jon actually withholding a bit of a smirk. “No offence taken, my lord. There’s nothing you could say that I haven’t heard dozens of times already.”

A crack of a smile came over the man in return. “You’re your fathers son, no doubt.”

Only then did your eyes look over to Jon, and you knew only you had seen the flash over the greys that spoke much like something distant and disturbed again like that morning. Whatever this dream was in detail, it felt as if it wasn’t the first time he had it. Just the first time you had woken up with him when he awoke from it so suddenly.

The last to get up, it wasn’t until you felt a warm hand grab at your wrist, pulling your hand up from where it felt like it was melted to the table. Your fingertips shaking slightly as blood was clearly dripping from them, somewhat too coated as if it had been doing so a while. Nervous eyes glanced up to Jon, his own narrowing in a worried disbelief as he found the spot you had been carving into.

Prompting you to stand with his other hand finding your waist, Jon turned to Sam with as much of an even tone as he could despite you knew he felt otherwise not calm. “Sam, could you and Gilly watch the baby a little longer?”

It was discreet, the way Sams eyes looked from Jon down to where he clearly had a hold on your wrist and the sight more of blood, but with wider eyes trying to hide as neutral he nodded. “Of course, whenever you’re...finished.” Jon muttered a thank you, but you felt Sams eyes on you as Jon turned to walk you out.

Motioning for you to lean against the wall as he closed the door behind him, you sighed shakily before he came close to your front. Without saying much, Jon grabbed at your hips, lifting you with a gesture to sit back on the high table behind you, “There you go.” Looking over there only seemed to be two which had bled, eyes scouring for any sharp shards of wood he must have come to the conclusion whatever you scraped them so hard against was attached to the table not in your skin.

Hidden from his side, did he pull out wrappings, one hand holding yours up he lifted his other to use his teeth tearing at the fabric to make smaller strips before gently wounding them around each finger. “I’ll clean this later, but this will do for now.” Asking in a gentle voice if he just kept that on him, did he surprise you. Eyes peeking up with more of a playfulness and smirk to match, “I know who I’m married too.”

One finger then the next, before using the third to wrap around both and your hand in general, did his brows begin to furrow a little. “Jon?”

Shaking his head with a sigh he didn’t look away from his work. “Soon enough your hands will be covered in more scars then I am.” Your head tilted almost in a bemused disapproval, and too did he smirk before continuing. “I know you weren’t seeing anything.” A single shake of your head no. “Do you want to tell me what happened this time?”

With a sigh, you finally found it in you not willing to look away from him. “Everything we know, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.” Glancing up to you with a furrowed brow, Jon finished tying the wrappings off before pulling your hand up to press a kiss to the skin still exposed. Letting it sit in your lap with your other as he cupped the side of your head, leaning in with gentle eyes as you finished. “Sometimes it gets to me.”

Running his thumb over your cheek, he gave a small shift to a more stern expression. “You get hurt enough as it is. You can’t be doing it to yourself.” Leaning down more to meet your eyes properly, you gave him a nod. Which for now, he accepted without words to follow from you. His other hand coming up to your waist, sitting a bit low closer to your hip.

Keeping your eye, he slightly grasped at the skirt of your dress, pulling it enough that your lips parted, a fluster rising in your chest. Jons smirk grew as he only moved it enough to give him proper room to stand between your legs. Shifting his hand so the thumb on your cheek could now tilt you by the bottom of your chin to look up at him. Where the inclination came from, you weren’t entirely sure, but the tone you said it with while not at all seductive, there was a purposeful innocence about it that Jon knew was no accident. “My King?”

Eyes closing, Jon let out a rough exhale. His jaw clenched as he murmured your name in warning. “Don’t.” Asking what specifically, you felt his hand both at your waist and more by your jaw tighten as his eyes begun to bleed the grey into a darker colour. “Don’t tempt me here.”

You knew you were pushing it, a small grin fighting it’s way onto your face. “I didn’t say anything, my King.” A roughly muttered word of stop, and your hands reached up to rest at his shoulders. “I only ask if there’s anything you need. The King takes such good care of his people, he deserves to be rewarded-”

Both of you knew it was a trap you were setting, but Jon let himself walk right into it. Grabbing both of your cheeks, Jon pulled you up into him to press his lips to yours. Sliding a hand right away to the back of your neck, keeping you there in his hold. Your hands slipped to his waist to steady yourself, only able to follow Jons command.

His lips were so soft, guiding you deeper and deeper as you felt a whine in your chest travel up for him to capture. A growl rumbling deep in his chest, never parting from you for more then half a second and certainly never enough to let you gasp for air. Leaning more over you, Jon tilted your head back even more, nowhere for you to escape his kiss.

He didn’t even need too, the bite to your lip causing you to part the, so his tongue could slide into your mouth. You would’ve done so for him without being asked, but Jon had other ideas. Ones that had his hand on your cheek drift down. Grasping at your waist with a tightness, did he step forward. Too many layers between you, but enough bulk sat low attached to his person that you’d feel it at least brushing to your inner thighs. A tease of what you could have if you were anywhere else.

Running his hand down your thigh, he gripped tightly the edge of the skirt of your dress as low as it was, the temptation to yank it up growing more and more appealing to him. Brushing his tongue against yours as you let out a higher pitched moan, Jons hand fisted the hair at the back of your neck through his fingers tightly. Readjusting his hold more and more, as if telling you like a wolf that you were under his control. Which his strength certainly spoke of that. Letting go of your dress, Jon shamelessly let his hand drift up the skin of your leg, squeezing your thigh roughly until he got to his destination.

Pulling back, the saliva trailed between your lips as he watched with hooded eyes as yours barley fluttered open up to him. Rasping low and roughly, “It’s like you want me to take you where anyone can find us.”

Looking up at him, there was a lightness in your heart, but a breathlessness caused by him as you said it so genuinely. “Like you said, we’re married, and you’re King. You can take me anywhere you want, any time you want.” Eyes bleeding black, Jons gaze twisted looking over you as his hand roamed under your dress to the nothing in his way.

Suddenly his large hand covered you completely, a gasp letting out as he yanked you back to his lips. A biting roughness as he kissed you deep that had your hands tighten against him. The feeling of his fingers thick along your folds finding out all over again just how quickly his simple touch and kiss could make you wet. Toying with the idea of sinking two inside of you then and there until a rather loud clearing of a throat hit both of your ears.

There was no hiding it, Jons hand shoved up the skirt of your dress and the rough, possessive hold of your hair as he kissed you. You sitting on a high surface legs wide enough for Jon to even stand between them in the first place. But what was worse, was that the throat clearing was followed by the worst possible voice lecturing your name that could’ve been.

If your horrifically embarrassed jump and gasp spoke of one reaction, Jon somehow spoke of a whole other. Pulling from your lips, both his hands eased. One gentle as he ran it smooth down your leg once more before seeking the edge of your dress and pulling it back down modestly, before running it along your waist in a firm manner. The hand in your hair running down it smoothly as he nudged your nose with his gentle to say without words to let him speak for you.

Unable to stop the small grin bright on his handsome face as you nodded, heart racing too much to think. Gently grabbing both your hips to help you down, but Jon was subtle at least. One hand polite at your lower back, the other grabbing your injured, or more recently injured hand in his, running over the fresh wrappings. Moving your fingers in a way that it was clear that at least at some point in the encounter, did he dress a wound for you to distract.

Which your fathers gaze flickered down to it right away, noticing it with a small narrow before again sternly looking back to Jon. Ser Davos stood beside him, trying as hard as he could not to look thoroughly entertained by all of this thus far.

“I was hoping to speak to you alone on a matter.”

Addressing Jon specifically, he kept his calm as if nothing happened despite how flustered you stood beside him. “Of course.” Pulling you more into his side, Jon cupped the other side of your head to press a kiss to your hair, muttering just loud enough that they’d be able to hear it. “If you want to go get the baby, I’ll meet both of you when your father and I are done. Alright?” A nervous look was clear in your eyes as you nodded. The silence following as you made your way back into the room, praying to the Mother that neither of them would say anything to Jon and just let the embarrassment fade away.

Sam always busying with something, sat reading and scribbling away at something. Looking up with a genuine smile, his quill in hand pointing over to the other room. “The little Prince is still with Gilly, nothing to worry.”

Pausing in your step, you turned back with something of a troubled look that tried to act as if it were merely banter. “You know Sam, you don’t have to use titles with me or him. It’s alright to call us by our names the way you do with Jon.”

Nodding a bit, Sam was easy to talk too. Very little judgment came over him no matter how awkward you stood there, now wrapped hand fidgeting with the other. “Old habit, I suppose.”

Mustering what you hoped was even part of a smile. “I understand. I married Ned Stark’s eldest son and right up until he died, I never could shake the habit of calling him Lord Stark.”

For a moment it seemed as if words had passed, you hardly even moving to the other direction when Sam spoke. Something more serious in his voice, and eyes. “What was he like?” Turning back with wider eyes, he spoke with a respect but still trepidation. “Robb Stark, I only know what little Jon told me about him, but he was his brother. He was your husband, and King in the North. It’s odd hearing so much about someone who had that big of an impact on the people in your life but will never meet.” Lips opening and closing, your heart felt heavier in the thought which Sam picked up on right away. “You don’t have to, of course. I was only wondering.”

Shaking your head, you moved a bit more into the room without committing to sitting anywhere near where he was. A barrier you put up that Sam had detected, as if without Jon by your side, he had hardly ever seen you exist in a room with people and feel comfortable. “No, it’s fine. I- I suppose I’m just not much of a story teller, but, if there was anything you’d like to know specifically?”

The easy manner Sam laughed was relieving a bit, that it wasn’t directed at you. “I’m aware of that at least. Jon told me once that you never had a very good imagination.” That had you laugh lightly, Sam to join moreso as you muttered that he was correct. “What did it feel like? Learning you were to marry one Stark, but not the one you’d been with for years?”

Almost as if a nervous girl you glanced to the closed door, no doubt Jon having left with your father and Ser Davos already. Looking back to Sam, your brows furrowed a bit, hands still fidgeting. “It was confusing at first. My father told me there was no choice, that King Robert had ordered it. Only for me to speak to him myself, and he told me that my father had come to him, insisting on the match out of nowhere.” Asking why, you inhaled the nerves and attempted to exhale that feeling you had in the Black Cells realizing that very thing. “My father leaned the truth about Joffery, and he knew that made him Robert’s true heir. If he suspected war was coming, he knew marrying his eldest daughter to the heir of Winterfell would put the North in his pocket.”

The casualness which Sam would jest things, even with someone like you, made it easy to understand why Jon would’ve liked Sam so quickly. “So much for that plan.” You broke a small, silent smile in agreement. Letting him follow up in questions himself. “Now, I’m not asking to be rude, or question your time with Robb, again I’m only curious-”

Your tone gentle as it was a little amused. “Just ask it, Sam.”

“If Jon had come to you with that idea. If it were more then just a fantasy in his head, coming to you and bringing you far North to just be together instead, would you have done it?” Your eyes were wide, asking him where he heard about that. “Jon told me. Once he opened up about you, it was like I couldn’t get him to stop talking about you.”

Again your eyes drifted to the door where he wasn’t outside of it, drifting just slightly to the side where you knew your son with him was, but too did you feel the scar under your clothes and the question wasn’t as easy to answer as you thought. Perhaps it was more honest then it needed to be, perhaps it was the ease in which Jon had said in front of everyone, the future of a daughter you both didn’t even have yet as if it were without question to happen. The security of now, perhaps made the loss of before slip from your lips a bit more with honesty.

Not really looking at him, but just off to the side as if lost in memory. “Robb and I hardly had a chance to be husband and wife, and even less time to ever have a child together. Having that now with Jon, it means the world to me but...” You could still see him, brown curls always perfect in place and his bright blue eyes and warm soothing voice, not a single bit of him was gone from your memory. “Maybe there was someone out there better for him, a girl he’d love more or be happier with..but instead he had me. And no matter what, Robb deserved to be loved. And I don’t regret for one second being allowed to be the one to give that to him.”

The room was silent, nor did you have the strength to look at Sams reaction to such honesty from you of all people, but your head turned the very second a small sound was heard that you knew too well.

Muttering a mere, “Excuse me.” Not hearing what he said politely after as you gently opened the door. For only a moment did you have enough in you to not feel the lonely detachment as Gilly only referred to you as your grace, and no longer your name as bright green eyes sought yours, with arms holding themselves up.

Leaning down with a smile bright on you, the brightness too on little Eddard’s face grew as did the nonsensical sounds he gave you in return to your voice. “I missed you too, sweet boy.” Your fingers running along his front almost in a tickling motion, as he attempted to grasp at the loose strands of your hair in return. “Were you good for Gilly?” Just a babble, but your voice played right along with ease. “That better be the truth you’re telling me.”

“It is.” Your head turning somewhat to the side, Gilly with a more apprehensive look but life was more within them looking between you and the baby. “He’s very well behaved. You and Jon have done a good job.” You swallowed whatever that feeling was back down to interpret later, nodding with a thank you until your attention was forced back with that grasp of your hair.

“Alright, alright, come here, you.” Picking up the eager Eddard, as soon as he came close did the baby snuggle right into your front. Cupping the back of his head to press a kiss to the top of his you mumbled gently, “Let’s go get you fed, and if you’re lucky, grandfather will stop lecturing your father long enough that he might get back in time for your bath.” Turning more to her, you were more formal, and it was not lost on either of you how quickly it felt like whatever friendship had been brewing here was now lost. And neither of you were good enough at this to know how to mend it. “Thank you, Gilly.”

Luckily, the hall outside was empty save for two guards whom now never left your shadow. Thankfully for you, the two present didn’t feel the need to say much. But you knew with Ser Davos in the same walls as his son, it was only a matter of time before your embarrassment of getting caught by your own father would spread to Allard and Theon both, and gods protect you when they got hold of that kind of fodder to make fun of you with.

Jon tried not to think about it, the ease in which he relayed the details of that night with near as much anger as he felt in the moment, barley restrained beneath his words. The three of them stood in private, Jons anger across from the troubled look of Ser Davos and the withheld but perturbed expression of Stannis as the later considered his words carefully. “Littlefinger tried to have her killed before if the information you are telling me is correct. How can you be sure this wasn’t a leftover from a plan he previous had in place.”

His jaw was clenched roughly, the feeling of having to subtly let out the tense air from his lungs to even speak not lost on both men. “Their orders were to take her head, and bring it back to the person who ordered it. Littlefinger had been in Winterfell for weeks, and was dead for days by the time they showed up. If it was him, they’d have no one to bring it to, or even pay them.”

Ser Davos nodded in an agreement. “No use in trying to murder a Queen if they’re getting nothing out of it.”

Following up with what theories he had so far, Jon didn’t say anything for a moment. None of whom was involved had said anything about it, and Jon couldn’t be sure you’d want your father to know but here he was asking and he had to be honest. “It’s not a strong possibility, but there’s a chance Euron Greyjoy had something to do with it.”

“Greyjoy?”

He knew there was more personal of a history there. Stannis had been the one to defeat Euron and Victarion in battle at sea during the Greyjoy rebellion. His actions against their fleet were the reason Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon could get to Pyke to end it in the first place. So he nodded once, hands tense at his sides trying to explain it without reliving those hours all over again. “When we were north of the Wall, he sent men after us. Tried to kill me, and kidnap her to bring her to him.”

Much like you could be when holding back, Stannis had one word responses. “Why?”

There was a lot he left out, but there was no room in him to explain anything to do with your abilities, the facts were easier to work with in this scenario. “He wants the Iron Throne, and he wants her by his side when he gets it.”

Both older men gave the other a glance, Ser Davos himself knew about Euron from beyond the Greyjoy rebellion, and Jon could only wonder which would be more willing to give him that information. Ser Davos himself, or Allard, as the former spoke. “If he wants her by his side, why send assassins after her?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Jons voice was rough but even. “Maybe if he can’t have her, no one can, to a man like him. It might be a stretch, but I can’t rule it out.”

“I agree.” Nodding, Stannis had kept his calm more then Jon could’ve even pretended to do despite the information. “These assassins, they didn’t think to harm the boy?” Jon shook his head, affirming they never even tried to touch little Eddard, only making Stannis think more. “It would be someone then who doesn’t yet know you have a child together. Eventually most of the realm will hear it, some already have, but this was someone who didn’t have a clue. Otherwise they might have reconsidered their plan, or strategy at the least were they to know a child, an heir was in the picture.”

Voice more on an edge did Jon feel unable to hide it. “You’re saying they’d have gone after my son too if they knew about him?” Stannis only repeating what Jon had said previous, that he couldn’t rule it out.

Already the guard he had and the measures he had in place were as heavy as Jon could get without being overbearing towards everyone, but perhaps it helped that he knew he had most of it surrounding you, and normally the baby could be found with you or him, if not one close by. Back and forth they went, but Stannis changed the subject before Jon could even think to leave. “One more thing. You knew, about the one my daughter has been hiding here, the bastard boy.”

Jon tried very hard to ignore the smirk across Ser Davos’s face reacting to what came from his mouth next, with a bit of a jest in his eyes. “You might need to be more specific.” The two mens glances meeting just barley before Jon returned his attention to Stannis, whom was either not amused or didn’t pick up on the joke at all.

“One of Robert’s bastards, Gendry. She admitted to me that she brought him here and has been hiding his identity.” But the look in his eye too, was serious, as Jons was in the confidence he had in why you had made the choices regarding him in the first place.

“Aye.”

Hard to read, if the quick quirk raised in his brow was negative or positive with this man as his tone never changed once. “Am I correct to presume you knew about this?” Jon again nodded, with no shame nor anything to hide in him for it, if you had brought it up first it seemed. “If he is here, I would presume she told you of what happened. You don’t think it would be appropriate to inform me that you have someone here who was a prisoner of mine?”

“Gendry might have been your prisoner once, but he isn’t now.” Bringing up your name with more of a sternness, “She brought him here to protect him, because he is her blood and she doesn’t want to see any other members of her family dead more then she already has. Gendry may have been your prisoner once, but he’s also her family. And she’s my wife, my Queen. Which means he’s under my protection too. From anyone who might come looking for him.”

The stare between both men was difficult to read, neither knew the other well enough to determine the degree of possible hostility spoken amongst such words. But Stannis was at the least, a man who knew when to pick his battles, and when not too. “Very well. You’re roof, you’re decision.”

Jon could only watch as the man took his leave, Ser Davos not quite following as he turned halfway to watch until Stannis was out the door and back. “I think finally being a grandfather is making him soft.”

Were that not such a drastic image in his head compared to what soft meant to most men, Jon might have laughed instead of looking at Ser Davos incredulously. “That’s Stannis being soft?”

Tilting his head in an understanding amusement, he let the smirk come out more freely as well. “I’m the one who set Gendry free, you know. More then anyone else I knew how angry he was about it, and more then a few times did he bring it up as if I robbed him of a great opportunity.” Asking low of an opportunity for what, he appreciated how blunt Davos was. “The red woman put it in his head that she could perform her blood magic better with Kings Blood, and having him as a prisoner could mean she’d be able to use him for anything, including kill him in the name of her damned fire god.” Before Jon could say anything, he rounded himself back to the point. “I’d say his reaction to learning you let her hide Gendry here and not say anything, was basically nothing compared to how he’d feel just weeks ago.”

It wasn’t meant as a slight, Jon of all people understood that your family was as complicated as they came, but it was an awkward truth. “He’s been here for days, and he’s spent almost no time with the baby.”

The grimace was warranted from Ser Davos as he mentioned you by name. “During the war, the King went back and forth on the subject of if he wanted her as his heir or not. Now that they actually speak again, she’s all but told him she wants nothing to do with the Iron Throne, and now he watches her have a male heir of her own for a Kingdom that isn’t the one Stannis was fighting to rule. Not alone, at least.”

Jon made no comment on that, nor did Ser Davos say it for him to make any sort of point over it. But it was only honesty that came from Jon when he said it. “We didn’t have him because he would be my heir.” There was a narrowing in his grey eyes, but too something more raw. A confusion of why people kept looking at you three and assuming thats why he existed. “We had him because we wanted too, because I’ve always wanted a child with her. He’s not my heir he’s...just my son.”

A man of low birth and humble beginnings, as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder, Jon knew that Ser Davos of all people said it solely because he meant it in his heart too. “Most highborns in the south raise their oldest child like an heir. To some, Stannis included, they have a hard time looking at that child just as they are. He raised Shireen like a daughter.” Your name coming from his mouth with more of a grim truth. “But he didn’t raise her like one. Between you and me, I’d say he raised her with a bit of resentment. That she wasn’t born a boy. Having an heir would’ve been a lot easier for him if she had.”

A weight sat in Jons heart. You had said something similar, many months ago beyond the Wall. That you suspected your father always wished you were born a boy, but here a man so close to your fathers side echoed that very sentiment.

It didn’t help the feeling, but Jon suddenly could think of you and realize the problems always seemed to stem from much deeper inside you. How you think the people only ever look at you and see a Queen, how you still struggle to see past the fact that Jon looked at you as more then just a dutiful wife, and the simple fact that you were raised thinking that you were your fathers failed heir.

With everything in between, there was too much noise in your life. But you were more then that to Jon, more then all of that, you were everything to him. But you put nothing but title and duty and responsibility on your shoulders every time something happened, so maybe he thought, he needed to, just at least once, take all of that away from you.

And the wolf howling inside of Jon, had a dark and perverse way of knowing just how to do it.

You knew he heard you come inside, the door closing slowly behind you and the light footsteps approaching but Jon was content as he worked away it seemed, to just know you were there. Turned away, you could see his shoulders a bit tense, and were you to turn him to face you no doubt there would be a deep frown etched into his features which more then likely he had tried to run his hand exasperated over his face and failed to wipe the frustration off.

Laying happily against the fur before the fire, Ghost rose his head up as you approached. Hands and nails running freely over the fur by his ears. Leaning more and more into you, almost knocking you over with his sheer size with how he nudged his head more into your crouching front as if to cuddle. Were he standing no doubt he’d have done so. More of a huff left the direwolf, his eyes slipping closed as he lay back down against the fur much more content then he had been before.

Gently did you take off your heavier outer layers, fur cloak and warmer dress with just something lighter and soft underneath, watching Jon now, the whole time. For a moment did you stand by the cabinet wondering if he wished you to leave him in silence, when as if reading your mind did he speak with a tint of playfulness. “Will you come here already?”

A withheld smile came over you, coming up you let a hand come up to his hair, curls still up from the day and working to let them loose without really even considering it. Looking over his shoulder to him, your eyes naturally found their way to his work before quickly diverting back away. Only for Jon to chuckle, smirking as he didn’t even look up at you. “You’re allowed to read my letters.” Mumbling you didn’t want to invade his work, Jon only smirked more. “First you want to ease my workload by doing things like this for me, now you worry you’re not allowed to even know what I’m doing?”

The smile on you was soft, knowing the judgment in his tone was jesting far more then it was meaning. Still letting your fingers run through his curls, once again you wondered if in the next few days if he’d want the ends trimmed. Getting too long, was normally when Jon would tend to keep it up for much longer into the night not wishing to deal with it all. Your only response to his words as light in tone as he set it as. “I only want to do what’s best for you.”

Brows narrowing, Jon let the quill hover mid air before setting it down flat to look up at you. Not yet finding the words, he pushed back in his seat. Only as you went to give him room to stand, did Jon grab you by the arm, and yanked you down into his lap. A surprised yelp came along with a laughing scold of his name, Jon let his laugh out much more brightly and free as he turned you. Sitting across him with your arms around his shoulders and back of his neck, Jon grabbed your hips to make you face him more, your lower back now pressed against the wood of the desk.

One hand moving up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, Jon trailed down its length still, toying with it before slinking up to cup your cheek. Muttering with his eyes roaming gently over what he could see of you, despite how yours stayed on the wandering greys no matter where they went or why. “Eddard?”

Your fingertips toyed a little with his curls in return. “With Bran and your sisters, like you suggested.” Only muttering a simple good, Jon continued to just let his eyes wander you freely as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the soft skin it touched at your cheek. Other hand on your hip warm and steady to keep you there. “May I ask why?”

Jon was good at getting the point. “Because I wanted you all to myself, and having our son here means I’m always fighting him for your attention.” Instantly you laughed, Jon following in a way that always made him look so handsome, such bright eyes as he did so like a laugh on him was a rare beauty. “Do you think I’m exaggerating? How often does he get mad at me when I kiss you?”

Leaning more towards him, Jon followed, the sides of your head resting against the other, Jon now able to run his hand freely down the hair along your back. “He’s just protective. Which he gets from you, you know.”

You felt his chuckle more then you could see it that time, but it was there all the same. “Which is why he’s not here. Our son would be very upset if he knew what I was planning on doing to his mother tonight.” A shiver ran down your spine, swallowing something devious as it only filled your blood and travelled to every corner of your veins, asking what that plan was exactly. Jon remained calm, not giving away at all what was in his mind, hand still smoothing down your hair. “It’s something I’ve mentioned before, but it’s alright if you don’t remember it.”

Pulling back, you looked at him more confused. “What are you talking about?”

Nudging you closer, Jon let his nose gently nudge at yours with a whispering rasp. “We’ll get there, don’t worry.” His lips meeting with yours before you had a chance to ask anything further, melting into his kiss and touch in an instant.

Your hands wrapping more firmly around the back of his neck, you felt Jon sift his fingers through the locks of your hair at the back of your head. Guiding you to follow, he didn’t yet deepen the kiss but refused you any air to move. Hands tightening where you held at him, and Jons hand on your hip too tightened as he bit at your bottom lip.

Only as you gasped, such an instinct to allow his tongue to slide inside your mouth did Jon not continue, but coax you slow back to something more chaste. Small nibbles did he bite as if teasing what he had done before, the sounds between you barley managing to include your small needs to breath until he bit at you once more, but harder. Were it any harder, it may have even drawn blood but pushed right to that edge with his kiss without ever letting you fall off of it.

Suddenly yanking you from his lips, Jon leaned forward as he turned your head slightly to the side. That rough need found the sensitive skin of your neck. Deep bites of his teeth followed by a sucking feeling as it to bruise along with the sharp marks made. Gasping out into the open air, a charged tingling ran from your neck down to your chest. From there a desire flooded your bloodstream only to increase as Jon further moved along, further marked your neck with a viciousness.

Only a brief gentle brush of his tongue and lips before he’d move on as a tiny soothe to his roughness, but still did he work you over harsher then even your nails dug into the skin of the back of his neck you held him at. You felt yourself leaning enough to give him more room, but with Jons grip on your hair you could barley move.

Shifting you by your hip did Jon move with you. Hidden beneath the layers, still could you feel a growing pressure that had Jon bite down rather harshly the moment he too moved you he could grind you down onto his growing length. The gasp from you sharp, as Jon pulled away from your neck but not at all ceasing his other movements. Cupping your cheek, he turned you to him with gentle shushes on his lips. “I’m sorry, darling, I know.”

Not even granting you the protest he knew you’d give for his rough treatment, he captured you in a kiss once more. That time it was much slower, guiding your lips to mould with his as he deepened it without the urgency of before. His hands though, both now were at your hips, subtle as he moved you down onto his covered cock.

Pulling back enough to rasp low, “Come on.” His hold moving you to stand up with him, steadying you on your feet with you grabbing more to his shoulders. Wide eyes looking up at him, Jon cupped both your cheeks. Bright his face shined but with something that one could mistaken as sad, if not the tighter hold he took of you, standing close enough you could feel his breath hot dance across your skin. “I need to take all this off you.”

Gesturing down to your dress, Jon kissed you once more to steal away your breath. Sliding down your neck on one side, the other where his teeth had sunk into you did he trace along your hair instead before seeking your dress. Hands quick as he let go of your kiss to grab at the skirt and instantly move to pull it up and off of you. Wasting not a second, as if in a hurry did he follow with your shift leaving you bare in the cold of his chambers.

Swallowing, Jon held at your waist looking down with black bleeding into the grey of his wandering eyes. Smooth his palm was running from your waist up and down to your hip once more, before your voice soft and a bit unsure seemed to break the spell. “Jon?” Eyes peering up at you, you hoped he could see the nerves flowing through you at his silence. Your hands grasped lightly at the belt strapped across his person still.

As if once he had gotten in, he removed his weapons and had not the mind to do a single other thing to get comfortable. Instead of letting him wash you over with a fluster of a comment he could make, you made a point to look down and back to his eyes. He only nodded a yes.

Cold and bare you stood there, taking the time and care you always did undressing him, and not even sparing how much you were respectful of his clothes when Jon had simply tossed your own to the side when he had it off your skin. Kneeling down to his boots, you exhaled with hope it was silent as you felt his hand run along your hair.

Truthfully, you had thought nothing of it. Reaching for the laces of his breeches, only to have your hands snatched by his. “Don’t.” You couldn’t grasp how much you had made his cock throb, the wide innocence as you peered up at him while bare on your knees, an ask in your eyes as if wondering what you did wrong. Shaking his head, his rasp came strained. “We’re not doing that. I don’t know if I can even trust you with that again.”

Waving through your heart was something full of an immense guilt right away, Jon only pulled you to your feet. Tilting you by your chin to look at up at him right as you spoke. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I promise, I am.”

Leaning to brush his nose down yours, he sounded just as strained but with that tenderness which came you warm still in your heart. “I know you are, but..it’ll take time. It’s not easy trying to make sure you’re alright when you do that, and last time I completely missed that you weren’t.” Trying to protest that wasn’t his fault, Jon again cupped your cheeks. “You didn’t want me to notice, but that’s on me. I should’ve known better. That I struggle to go easy on you. You were hoping that would happen, but I never should’ve let it get that far.”

Your hands held at his shoulders, muscles tense from trying not to fidget so openly despite how you had to bite down on your lip just to stop it from a quiver. “Are..will you never want me to..”

Brushing his lips to yours, it was barley what you could call a kiss as he mumbled against them. “Until I can trust you with you’re own well being, I’m taking care of you from now on. Not the other way around, and that’s final.” You once more, couldn’t know how much Jons cock begged to be released from their restraints at how you had obediently nodded in agreement.

Everytime it was an order he gave you, you never questioned it and it drove Jon mad. Especially when it had to do with this.

Nudging you backwards as he told you to lay back on the bed, Jon only watched with darkening eyes as you slowly did so. The fur against your back was soft and comforting, the opposite of the darkness watching you. Until you were laid back, propped up with your palms behind you did Jon reach for the laces of his breeches.

He never blinked as he undid them, not as he slowly dragged them off his person. No words, and barley a blink before Jon suddenly moved up onto the bed hovering over you so close it pushed you down onto your back once more. Grasping at your jaw, Jon kissed you with an urgency. All but shoving his tongue into your mouth, your hands flew up grasping at his shoulders desperately.

His curls acting as a curtain, hiding your kiss from any of the no one watching. Kneeling more to the bed, Jon wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you more up to press your front to his. The urge in his own mind to forego his plan, and yank you up onto his lap right there and sink deep inside of you, but he had to contain himself. He had a plan.

Your legs shifted on either side of him, one thigh resting up by his hip as the other somewhat wrapped around his calm. Jons tongue deep as he brushed against yours, pulling back only to mock you with the temptation of giving you air then not ever allowing it. He controlled it all. Your nails dug into his skin as you felt his cock hard brush between your legs. Not paying any mind to it, Jon held a skill in ignoring his burning need as long as he was entangled with you in one way or another.

Slowly, did he move. Grabbing a hand from his shoulder, Jon pressed it into the bed, intertwining your fingers before slowly doing the same to the other. Pushed down into the fur, his own lips more red and swollen from how roughly he treated you, and gasps from your own looking no doubt more abused. Without you even noticing, occupying your mind blind with his kiss rough and deep, gentle brushes of his tongue against yours before refusing you more, you hadn’t at all noticed.

Until suddenly did Jons hands and fingers intertwined with yours, did you feel he was moving until he suddenly pulled them high. Crossing one wrist against the other as one large hand kept a firm grip of it. Pulling back to look down at you, your chest heaving almost as if mocking him with how little he’d been able to touch them to his greed and pleasure. His voice was a rough rasp as he sought your eyes, black staring back at you enough to nearly stop your lungs.

“Tell me no at anytime, do you understand?” Taken back by how intense he suddenly felt over top of you, Jon much more sternly called your name. “Tell me you understand, that you say no at any moment, and I stop right away.” But you didn’t say that, with something nervous and meek on your mind did you only ask Jon what he was about to do, but his head tilted slightly with a narrowing disapproval, he needed you to just say it.

“I understand.”

Barley muttering a good, Jon pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling back, mumbling into them, “Don’t move.” You read the unspoken second command, don’t watch so blatantly what he was about to do. Eyes forcing themselves to the stone ceiling, your hands itched to reach down and grasp at something to ground the nerves and want between your legs. Only as Jon returned, you felt him put something onto the bed without looking up to see.

Coming back to you, now sitting more at your side did Jon run a hand down the side of your face, touch gentle as he looked down at you. With a hesitation, his brows furrowed in what you could see was a self doubt. “Jon?”

Flying up to meet your gaze, something innocent within them once more made Jons blood run hot. Rasping as he traced along your jaw, “I need you to trust me, alright?”

Your words did not help how hard he was, “I always trust you.”

You couldn’t grasp what he was doing at first, almost thinking he was going to kiss you again until you felt something drape along your skin, and then nothing. A soft material shielding your eyes, your heart begun to race more instantly. Muttering his name, almost a brief panic at how little you could feel he was there, but the moment he seemed to tie the knot behind your head, you felt his warmth. One palm braced on the other side of your body as he leaned down to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. “We don’t have to-”

“No, don’t stop.” Almost wondering if your phrasing may have confused him, your mind muddled with trying to put together the mystery of what he was doing, the blindfold only ever being done once before in a drastically different setting. So you stammered through a breathlessness trying to rephrase. “I mean, keep going. Please..”

Without you seeing, he nodded before remembering you couldn’t see. What part of Jon that still felt a man, reminding himself to take care of you. That you will need his touch and voice significantly more then usual, not being able to see him. “Two more things, alright?” You nodded, and suddenly you felt a softer material across your wrists.

Tying your raised arms to the headboard, you stuttered a breath as your heart pounded. He said two, what more could he possible do? What more could people do with one another that you-

Only you figured it out, as you felt something at your ankle, rougher material. Not scratching or even tight. In fact the tie on your wrists was tight enough they couldn’t move, but whatever he tied around your ankle was slack a bit. Until you felt him pull, moving your leg to something wide open, a fluster coming over you almost instantly. Because then Jon did the same but the other.

Experimenting, you tried moving your leg, able enough to somewhat bend it at the knee, but nowhere near enough to close them, or even slightly. Jon did do three more things, tie every part of you that could move after taking your sight away. One again he draped over your top half, a hand running down your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts and gently caressing over your scar as he rasped so close to your ear. “Tonight, you aren’t doing anything. I’ll do all the work, you just lay right there, okay?”

You could feel his other hand run down your hair more as you bit your lip with a nod. Only to be prompted to use your words. Mustering through your nerves and racing heart only, “Okay..” Before Jon pressed his lips to yours.

The hand on your stomach rising up to cup your cheek, his soft lips were slow. Almost methodical as he kissed you again and again, the hand on your cheek sliding down to your neck, tracing along your collarbones once more. But this time, just as his tongue brushed your lip, did his hand gently grasp at your breast, pulling a high pitched gasp.

Lips pressing to yours once, then your cheek as he leaned down to murmur in your ear, “I know they’re still sensitive. I won’t do anything else.” Hardly a grope, just a gentle squeeze of what he had in his hand, he knew to be careful. The shiver down your spine made your core awaken with a startle. wetness already between your legs, the need to hide it by pressing your thighs together now taken from you so completely that it made his gentle touch to your breasts even more overwhelming.

Pressing his lips down the marked side of your neck, you could hear him muffled with something of a growl in his voice. “You shouldn’t look so beautiful like this.” Never his teeth, but your lips fell parted open as he allowed his kiss down each bruised mark to be sloppy to soothe the leftover sting. “Makes me want to never let them heal.”

Along your skin he trailed them without failure, a hand running along your side as he moved. Your breath held as his lips reached your breasts, but only a lingering kiss to the skin there before moving along down your sternum as his voice softened. “Why you ever want to be on your knees for me, when it’s nowhere near as good for you as what you give me..”

Trying to sound confident, but it only came out with a heavy need being muttered out. “I want you to feel good too..”

You couldn’t be sure how he had moved, but you felt both hands now on your legs stretched wide, pushing up ever so slightly to the little amount you could bend them. Before Jons lips kissed a path along your scar and paused the moment he reached your mound. “You can live without that, but I could never give this up. I’d go mad without being able to taste you, darling.”

A sound wanted to come from you, but biting down on your lip trying to prevent it despite Jons breath so hot between your legs. Closer his lips had gotten, before he hovered right over your clit. Being forced to wait there, not a clue that Jons eyes were overtaken with a darkness, his hands braced on your thighs as he could stare at the wetness between your legs with greed.

Tighter and tighter his grip got until without a shred of mercy did he move. Tongue running flat against your clit, sparking something burning inside of you as you wished you could jump away from it, but his lips only followed. Sucking at the bundle of nerves in a way that felt as if he was making up for what sparing your breasts he had. He could be content without one, if he could have this.

A rough hand sliding to your hip by your ass, did the other follow before Jon kept you steady from even writhing against the burning need. Tongue running over your clit in whatever way had forced that cry from your chest out into the world with a startling beg. His name your only words, but it pleaded into the air as he dragged you to an orgasm with a stinging pleasure to your clit.

Barley letting his teeth scrape against it before his tongue soothed the feeling, your mind felt foggy at how quick it came. Hands tense against the headboard your toes curled in as your head fell back as much as it could. A wave washing over, being drawn in and out of the shore again and again as your orgasm flowed. Jons tongue soaking your clit, letting it burn as he treated you almost as if a kiss.

Again and again did Jon draw you to your end from that alone, only to feel him move you what felt like shoving you higher against the bed before his mouth found it’s true desire. The wetness between you in amounts Jon could drink for days, parched with a thirst and you were the one thing he needed to keep him going. A greed in how much he ran his tongue along you, how much he refused to let a drop escape him no matter how much he had to pull you into his mouth closer.

A growl left, as his hands gripped your plush skin with a force that would leave bruises of his fingerprints. Vibrating against your soaking walls, and twisting the core within you faster, but truly it never unwound properly. He kept you slipping from one orgasm to the next, his mouth there to taste every single bit it would give. The taste so addictive against his tongue, Jon could feel even with his eyes closed, them rolling into the back of his head.

Your back trying to arch as he guided you to another end, no idea who had caused you to have so much of a wetness, you from his mouth or just his mouth alone against you without ever drawing up for so much as air. Begging his name, your head felt light and far away, only Jons touch between you existing.

Neither of you held a clue how long he kept you there, hands trapping you against his mouth as the only sounds in the room beyond your breathless begs was his greeding, merciless tasting.

Small you spoke out, barley able to speak through each cry for him. “Jon, it’s so much..I- I-” Cutting yourself off both times, you feared the nonsensical beg that you couldn’t take it but you could not fathom a world beyond Jons touch. But your very words brought that into existence with your heart racing, hands clenching tight unable to move as he pulled from you.

The soaking between you was cold in the air, but his words breathed hot so close that Jon interrupted his own words between sentences to run his tongue along you more. “I know it’s a lot..but you need to be good for me.” You nodded, but Jon growled with what sounded akin to anger of your name. “That’s not a suggestion, darling. Just lay there, and be good.”

You nearly begged out, “I promise,” more the once before he finally sunk back to drenching your cunt with his mouth.

In Jons own mind, it was just like when you let him sit you on top of his mouth. He knew you had no idea that this was dangerous. How much Jon could stay there and refuse to let you go. Taste you until you were crying begs and pleading for him to stop, but even if you did, he still would slide inside of you before it was over. Jon had soaked you so much that he groaned into your cunt with the thought, that not even his size would hurt with how wet you were for him.

And even so, you never begged anything more. You cried, and moaned, and let out high pitched whines at the burning inside of you each time he dragged his tongue inside of you. Sweat built to a sheen over your skin and dampened your hair before he stopped.

Sucking roughly at your clit once more before moving from your cunt. Not sending where he was, Jon all but leaped up to grab at your jaw. His kiss rough and bruising as he bit once more at your lips, that time, he was the one certain he might have drawn blood. But he ignored it, beyond the whine you gave him that had his cock throb. His tongue deep inside your mouth, making you taste what you gifted him.

Never would you understand his desire, but he tried every single time to make you understand what you had caused him to be endlessly, helplessly addicted too.

But then he muttered into your lips, his hands on your thighs suddenly sunk two thick fingers deep inside of you at the same instance. “That’s my girl.” Your heart felt it was bursting out of your chest, how he spoke to you and yet how little you considered that he had tied you and blinded you to his complete control. Thrusting them deep, he pulled them close to leaving your warmth before a third joined as his rasp was as thick as his accent was rough. “You are perfect for me, it doesn’t matter what I do, you were meant to take me.”

Nodding, Jon rewarded your agreement with a deep, lingering kiss before your legs shook in place as another orgasm was dragged through you with each deep thrust of his fingers in and out of you. Only dragging them out as long as it took for them utterly soaked to cup you.

You could feel Jon moving, but not a clue how or what but you laid there not even the thought in your head to question him. Without any warning, the moment his soaking hand grasped at your hip, did he replace the feeling with his length. Sliding deep inside you, soaked not even with as tight as you were around him, did you give a single bit of resistance. His cock so thick that it always stung but he had done every bit of work to ensure it wouldn’t this time.

Jon knelt on his knees before you, lips parted as he could barley catch his breath, let his other hand run tight against your clit and with that and but a single thrust did you ruin him. Walls clenching around his cock did he nearly hold you down against the bed. “Fuck, darling.. you can’t do this to me right away..”

He could see your hands desperately trying to grasp something to no avail, and the question truly burned in his mind if he was willing to give that to you. From where he knelt, so slowly did he drag his cock along your sensitive walls, that high pitched cry from your lips so beautiful to him that he sunk back just as deep, just as slow.

When he planned this, Jon hadn’t thought he’d take this pace. He thought he’d fuck you, truly fuck you like a wolf does his mate but something about taking you this slow and gentle had his heart burst from his chest with a loving need. Truthfully, he didn’t imagine many men enjoyed this. That many men ever would tolerate going this slow, but smoothly sinking his cock in and out of your soaking cut Jon looked down to the sight.

His hands tight on your hips, but otherwise his eyes were wide. Mouth somewhat agape as he watched his length sink inside you again and again. Your mind had become such a fog of pleasure, Jon wondered if it even registered in your head how obscenely wet it sounded each time he sunk deep back inside of you.

Jon did this because he needed you to trust he could take care of you exactly as you needed, but it wasn’t until his cock was surrounded by your warm tight walls, did Jon realize that you needed him to be slow and gentle as much as he needed it too.

Carefully, without ever stopping did Jon move himself to hover over top of you. One palm braced into the furs, sinking almost deeper each time from this angle as your legs couldn’t even think to close on him. Capturing your lips in a kiss, it was as slow as his pace.

Tongue brushing against yours with a patience, not to overwhelm you the way he knew you felt being filled with him. Pulling back, the saliva between you both not even severed as he rasped, “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.” Begging his name with a weakness in your throat, Jon kissed you once more.

His hips thrusting again and again inside of you with an excruciating pace to the wolf within his chest, but Jon again pulled back to look down at you, not even seeing your eyes and past that darkness his heart a man almost tore at him. You trusted him with everything that he took all of your control away and never once did you assume he’d take advantage of that.

He couldn’t. Again and again his cock filled you, but never could Jon consider doing anything but making love to you with every way he could prove how deep that ran. How much you had always meant to him. Resting his forehead against yours, not any part of him cared at how needing it sounded as he fucked you. “You have no idea how much I love you.” Hips moving perhaps a bit faster, enough that a cry left you once more which he had to soothe with a kiss. “I need you, darling. I’ve always needed you..”

Not even allowing you to answer, he pressed his lips to yours. Your cunt clenching around him and Jon knew you were so close he could taste it. Keeping that pace, again and again his cock thrusted deep, pulling only halfway before he had to feel you completely once more. “It doesn’t matter whats coming our way, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

As your orgasm burned and blazed around you, Jon was so relieved did he too find his end right with you. As deep as he could did Jon spill inside of you. His seed thick and hot as he let his hips grind into you, his kiss not sparing you the treatment.

Shaking around as each wave after wave you came, Jon let his hand fly up. Grasping tightly at both of yours as much as you both could hold at the other. Even when Jon filled you as much as he could, he didn’t stop. Not the slow pace, not how much he refused to pull out of you in any amount before he needed his cock as deep as you could take him again.

Once more, neither of you knew how long he kept you there, feeling as if it was a never ending moment refusing to change a single thing about how he fucked you. Easing you into him stopping, Jon could tell your mind was a fog.

Suddenly did you feel as if he left you with no warning, despite how long Jon eased out of you, but your mind couldn’t grasp it. Lifting off of you, a weak beg of his name did Jon kiss you again, his hand running along your hair caressingly. “I’m right here, I just need to untie you.” Before he did so, did he allow the blindfold to free your sight once more.

Fuzzy the world felt, but his grey eyes all you needed to feel calm once more. Arms, then legs were you free as Jon turned you into his front. Laying you both on your sides, he carefully placed your legs apart enough that it wouldn’t overwhelm you with what he knew would be sensitive as soon as the rest of your mind returned.

Your hands draped along his chest, scars somehow comforting under your palms as he hid you in his chest, and his own face in your hair with presses of his lips and murmuring words to bring you down back to him.

It was possible you fell asleep, as when a knock came to the door, you felt as if you had been startled awake. Running his hand over your hair, Jon muttered into your ear. “It’s alright, they’re bringing the baby.” Nodding, Jon whispered once more when you looked up with something filling your nerves as he pulled away. “Hey, come on now.” Pulling the furs over top of you, Jon kissed your forehead before meeting your eyes. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring Eddard with me.”

His breeches tossed on but lose, and a soft shirt of a grey dark enough it matched his eyes did he return to you with. Senses more awake, the sound of a little noise of nonsense pulled a gentle smile on you. Keeping the fur pulled high did Jon slink down onto the bed beside you with a playful glint in his eye. “It appears our son doesn’t want my attention.”

A laugh left both of you, as he carefully let little Eddard into your arms. Much like how you awoke that morning, Jon let his arm wrap around your back under the fur, pulling you close as he rested his head somewhat atop yours. The quiet and the baby all you both needed before a weight made itself known on Jons side of the bed.

Before you could even look, did you hear him louder try and protest, “Ghost-” But coming to your feet was the presence of the large direwolf. So large that his head lay down on the furs atop one of your legs and Jons. His own eyes narrowed but playful, as both white wolves pretended they were frustrated with the other to no convincing. Jons free hand now preoccupied with Ghost, did someone else too try.

Eddards little arms tried reaching out to Ghost, whom when he lifted his head did you and Jon subtly shift forward so he could actually reach. The scene was all Jon needed. No matter what was outside those doors, the Long Night could come and rage beyond control but as he sat there, his direwolf, his son and his girl, the little pack he always wanted, he could pretend for now that this was perfect.

And maybe it was, as long as you and Jon both could ignore that ever since coming back from the far North, did it feel as if the nightmares came each and every night to haunt you for it. For going that far north in the first place, or for leaving it, that was what neither of you could figure out.

Each night Jon had been trying to let that nightmare go further and further, he knew what each dream showed him until the battle leaving him dead in a field of green. It wasn’t a vision of the future he knew, but maybe if he let the nightmares fester a little while longer he may figure that out.

That was until his eyes slipped closed that night, you tucked firmly back into his arms, did Jons dream finally show him purple eyes, hair of silver.

The nightmare, a memory that certainly did not belong to him.

[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the  five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it  would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms���or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

 Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.                                                                      

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

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@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3

to be added to taglist

[entitled-fangirl]

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Back to Main Masterlist

Cregan Stark

#drew drools over cregan stark

Cregan Stark masterlist.

Robb Stark

A change of sigil.

Jace Velaryon

#drew drools over jace velaryon

I won’t burn you. SMUT

I can't promise that.

Unknown.

Staying warm. SMUT

Aemond Targaryen

I hate you.

The middle of war. Part 2

Thunder.

Reading late.

Chance. Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The crown.

Gwayne Hightower

Lady Hightower.

Cheeky. SMUT

Never happier.

A good father.

Foolish.

Sweet nephew.

Benjicot Blackwood

Devotion.

Violence through his veins.

Aegon Targaryen II

A ratcatcher's wife.

Rumors and the bastards of one Aegon Targaryen II.

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[missswritesalot]

Can i request some possessive, maybe even a little mean, Robb Stark nsfw? i need that man in a way that borders on obsession 😭

A/N hope you like it anon. Gets soft at the end. Will edit later for historical accuracy. Requests open.

"Your grace," you began nervously as your husband threw open your bedchamber door. Opening it was hard enough so thinking of the force it took to rattle the hinges made you wince. Perhaps you could finally see the King Robb that maidens swooned for and bards sang of.

"Like a dog? A beast? Numbskulled brute? Is that what you said?" He spat out. His anger, so hard to provoke but equally hard to quell. Now it was righteous too.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” you nervously said. “I only wished to entertain.”

Robb walked towards you and you took a step back. You were vulnerable, only wearing your shift.

“And what did you call yourself? Little more than a whore I paid two coppers for? A greedy little queen, at the mercy of the king?” Robb said. “I can’t even repeat what I heard. Yet you said it when I have done nothing but treat you gently with kindness.”

“It was only my ladies, and I didn’t wish to disappoint, husband.” You said. You placed your hand gently on his chest. “They dream of you, and I couldn’t appear jealous. I needed to show you didn’t lack passion in bed.”

“Wasn’t just the ladies. My men heard you recount your pleasure and now they’re the ones salivating.” He shouted.

“Cease this! It’s childish and I will speak as I wish.” You said, feigning annoyance.

Robb looked madder with each word out of your mouth. He gripped your wrists to the point of pain and spun you around. With a hand on your back, he pushed you face down onto the furs.

"You talk like a whore you get taken like one."

He pushed your chemise up and you felt his fingers find the most sensitive parts of you. He shoved two in roughly, making you scream. Thank the old gods, your plan worked better than expected.

“And what of my men guarding you? Did they have to hear your of escapades? Know how you enjoy in my chamber?” Robb demanded.

The twist of his fingers in your unprepared cunt made tears spring to your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. You refused to reply. You shook your head.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Robb yelled. He slapped your arse to make his point. No need to trigger him even more, you decided. “Who owns ye?” He asked again.

“You do,” you mumbled.

“And I am your King, and your husband. And you had better remember that.”

“Yes, husband.” You whispered. You heard the sounds of him undressing. You didn’t dare move.

Robb held your hips on either side of you and pushed you into the bed.

“Who’ll take you now?” He demanded.

“You, my lord and husband.” You replied submissive. His breathing behind you told you he was still furious.

His hands tightened around your hips and you felt the impossible thickness of his member at your entrance. He'd taken you before, he was your goddamn husband, but never in anger and never like this.

He began to push in, deaf to your cries.

"Robb," you pleaded, your will breaking. He was deep in you but not to the hilt yet. This new position was physically uncomfortable adding to your humiliation. "Please, please." You begged. You didn't know what you were asking for, for him to let you go or for a moment to adjust. But you were so hot you could barely see. You had never felt desire like this. You anticipated your release like Robb returning home.

"No," he said quietly. "You will accept this, wife." He sheathed himself to the hilt within your body. You were glad he'd let go of your arms, so you could twist your fingers into the furs on your bed.

He was deeper than before in this new position, you felt like you were being split open. You reminded yourself you were trying for this reaction. Some part of your heart hurt most of all, knowing that your husband didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon your body. He was mean.

He pulled out again and pushed back in slowly. The deep pleasure knocked the breath out of your lungs. It added to everything you felt from the stretch of his girth.

Your cries grew louder due to pleasure, and you were screaming in abandon at how good he made you feel.

“More, husband, Robb, please.” You begged incoherently. The snap of his hips against yours set a harsh pace.

He tried to stop, to tease you, but he couldn’t. He was too excited looking at your body beneath him.

It didn’t take long before you were clenched around his cock in your pleasure, and he spent in response to you.

Robb collapsed atop you. He rolled over to the side, breathing heavily. You took a moment to calm yourself down and turned to face him. You took his hand in yours carefully, you wanted to know if his anger had been quelled yet. You were pleased when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said. “And I have no desire to share you. Not this. Not our time together when we get so little.” Robb confessed. Your heart broke for him. Perhaps you’d gone too far in seeking his passion.

His face grew tense as you didn’t reply. “Have I hurt you, love?” He asked, caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“No, dear husband. I love you too,” you said softly, content.

[axelsagewrites]

could you make a robb stark x baratheon reader where they grow up together as friends and were promised to each other, at the beginning reader thinks robb doesn't wanna marry her but then he tells her he loves her

if you could please add smut at the end (afab reader btw)

Robb Stark*Arranged

Pairing: arranged marriage!robb stark x princess!reader

Word count: 2272

Warnings: arranged marriage, anxiety, talks of running away, making out, (smut in part two but this is mostly wholesome), fluff

Masterlist here

A/N: sorry this (and everything else lol) has taken so long but part two with the smut will be up in the next couple of days :)

despite being a Baratheon by blood, by title, and by name most days you felt more like a Stark than anything else. Your father had sent you up to the North on your eleventh name day to become a ward of Ned Stark as part of an alliance of sort. Marrying his eldest daughter to a well-respected and established house only strengthened your fathers claim.

It had benefits for you, well at least he told you all his reasons in the letters. You’d be safe under lord starks protection, able to grow up alongside Sansa Stark who was only a year younger than you, become the future lady of Winterfell, and most importantly, to you at least, marry your childhood crush.

Yes, that’s right from the time you met him at four, him being five, you were smittened. Your father had travelled north on business but also happened to attend the wedding of one of the northern lords. He and ned laughed loudly, clinking their glasses together, as they watched you force Robb to walk down a pretend aisle with you that Jon helped you set up with chairs.

Of course, it was just a silly crush. It’s not like four-year-olds understand what a wedding is. By the time you moved to the north at eleven it was just a fond memory of your fathers he would tell at dinner parties.

In the nicest way possible when you first arrived Robb didn’t even care you were there. He was twelve and running about with wooden swords to practise with Jon and Theon while you and Sansa would practise hairstyles in each other’s hair.

However, by fifteen something dreadful happened. You fancied him.

Sure, in theory it sounded great but there were so many awkward moments. After all you were only fifteen. You couldn’t help that your face went beat red when he gave you a necklace for your birthday and when he told you that you looked ‘pretty’ one day you could barely muster out a thank you, you were so shocked.

You did your best to shove it down and pretend everything was normal over the years, but the crush never went away. You got better at hiding it. you had to as you’d grown closer over the years. Since Sansa had no interest in horse riding you were left to go with the trio, as you called them, instead. It soon became one of your favourite past times and you quickly grew close with the three boys. Especially Robb.

You figured it was a good idea especially as the talks of your marriage began cropping up more frequently. Your parents started pushing you to go on chaperoned excursions to markets and walks through the gods’ woods. They had no clue, or at least pretended, about the unchaperoned ones. Often you disappeared into the gods wood for some peace or the fields behind Winterfell to race. Robb began to bring food in his satchel so your excursions could turn into late lunches in the few sunny days of Winterfell.

“I definitely won,” he grinned as he dismounted his horse.

“Yeah right,” you scoffed as you jumped down, “you cheated,”

“How?”

“You went before I said go!”

“It’s three, two, one, go on one,”

“No, it’s not. Its three, two, one, go,”

“As in go already I said one,”

“As in you’re a cheat,” you huffed as you sat down against a thick oak tree.

Robb laughed at your antics as he sat down beside you, pulling his satchel out, “Truce?” he offered as he pulled out a parcel of sandwiches.

You pretended to think it over before nodding, “Truce,” For a few moments you sat in silence eating the sandwiches before you finally decided to tell him the news that had been weighing over you for the past week. “My mother sent me a raven,”

“Oh?” Robb paused, mid bite with concern written on his face. Your father sent you letters on a weekly basis but so far, your mother had only sent three since you left. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, well, I think so. I’m not sure,” you paused for a moment before just blurting it out, “She’s coming next week. With a seamstress,” Robb stared at you confused, “For the wedding,”

“Oh,” the word shattered your heart. While you had become friends over the year neither one of you ever spoke about the impending nuptials. Sure, you wanted to marry him, but you were terrified. Not of marriage. He was a good man. He would treat you right whether he wanted this marriage or not. But that’s when the fear came in. what if Robb could never love you? “Aren’t most girls excited about fancy dresses?” he tried to joke, lighten the mood like he always did. Its what he always did whenever the wedding was brought up. Play it off, make a joke, laugh. It was all an awkward joke to him.

“I suppose, Sansa will be,” you laughed. She really had become like a sister to you over the years, “I suppose though this means it will be arranged soon,” you tried to look at him, but Robb just stared down at his food. “Unless we escape somehow,” you joked, copying his defence mechanism.

He looked up a smiled a little, “Quick you grab the horses, I’ll pack the bag. We’ll ride at dawn,” he joked.

“Imagine. Take all the back roads till we get to Riverrun,”

“Bribe the Frays into letting us cross,”

“Then straight down to Dorne,”

“Sounds like a plan,” he smiled, knocking his knee against yours. “Jon would never forgive me if I left him behind,”

“Him and Arya can come with. We’ll become sellswords,”

“Sounds like we’ve got it all planned out,”

-

When you returned to Winterfell Catelyn ran up to you both in a tizzy, “Where have you both been?” she whispers shouted, smiling at a passing lord before scouring, “A messenger from the king has arrived,”

You knew she meant well but your stomach dropped. you both followed her to the hall but soon the sorrowful look on your face was replaced by a grin, “Uncle Tyrion,” you rushed up to him immediately.

“Ah my favourite niece. Finally returned from some dingy pub I assume,” he joked though Cat couldn’t help but frown a little. They were both protective just in their own ways. “Don’t worry I’m not here to stay long. Just come down on your father’s behalf to organise the wedding. Speaking of, Lord Stark I do believe this is the first time we’ve met,” he extended a courteous nod to a very nervous looking Robb.

“Lord Tyrion,” he bowed.

“It goes without saying if you hurt my niece, I will have to have my men kill you,” he said, head tilting to the side making Robb gulp, “But other than that it’s lovely to meet you,” he grinned widely like a jester.

“Don’t tease him uncle,” you shook your head, but Tyrion just laughed, “I’d say you’ll get used to him, but no one has so far,”

“You’re so kind niece, truly,” he laughed, “Now onto business The king has organised his travels and shall be in Winterfell by the first of next month so we shall have to act swiftly,”

Panic set on all three of your faces. Though Robb and yours was far different than Catelyn’s. “My lord that’s awfully soon. We may not have the provisions to afford so many guests so soon- “

“No fear my lady. I was also sent with my father’s gold. No Lannister shall have anything less than a golden affair,” you could see the relief melt from Catelyn but yours was just setting in.

-

For the next three weeks every discussion you had was about the wedding. cakes, flowers, food, music, dresses, veils, and most daunting of all; organising the preparation for Robb’s and yours new chamber. Tyrion even sent a seamstress to your room to organise an outfit for your wedding night. It was all quickly becoming too much.

You’d barely even seen Robb since the planning began. There was no time to calm down and no one to remind you to breathe. That was his job. Whenever you got nervous, he would gently grab your wrist under the table, running his thumb over the back of your hand. But he was nowhere to be found.

You eventually managed to find Jon who told you Robb was under the same stresses. His mother had him arranging with traders and mingling with the growing number of lords appearing at Winterfell’s gates. “Suppose this is the stresses of being a lady,” Jon joked.

It was only then it hit you. Soon this whole castle would be yours to run. How would you ever have time to breathe let alone enjoy your husband’s company if he would even have you.

Despite missing your family, the night before their arrivals, you cried quietly in your chamber. Their arrival tomorrow only marked the three remaining days you had left as a maid. Perched on an open windows ledge, the cold air stung your cheek but at least as you watched the birds fly you could feel a little of their freedom.

Then there was a quiet but rapid knocking. The faint sound brought your attention to the door which was shut less than a second after it was opened. “Hey sorry I’ve not come sooner- “Robb’s voice entered the room, for some reason making your tears sting more. Robb shivered from the cold, “Why’s the window open? You’ll freeze princess,”

Robb rushed to your side, leaning past you to shut the glass to preserve what little heat he could. His confusion fell from his face when he saw your tears, “What’s the matter?” his voice was soft and tender as he sat across from you to hold your hands, his thumbs stroking over the back on them.

“I don’t know,” you lied in a whisper.

Robb knew. He always knew when you lied. He just nodded gently though. “I’ll start a fire,” he was on his feet again.

“I can fetch someone if you wish- “

“But I’m already here,” he teased as he knelt by the fireplace.

As he got to work in silence you padded across the floor. The stone floor felt like ice against your bare feet making you quicken your pace till you could sit on the small sofa in front of the fire Robb had started. “Easy, see,” he said, joining you on the couch, “We’ll get a heat in you,”

“Thanks,” you sniffled.

You sat in an easy silence though when you left out another sigh Robb was compelled to place an arm around your shoulder. You leant into his touch, your head rested on his shoulder and his on yours. A few moments passed before he spoke, “Jon said you were asking for me,”

You weren’t sure why you tensed, “I just worry sometimes,”

“I know,”

You couldn’t stand the next silence that followed so made a joke, “Thought you’d ran away,”

“Without you?” he said, pulling back to grin back at you, “Nah we have a deal princess. Say the word and I’ll get the horses,”

His smile made your stomach drop. It all felt like one big tease, “I thought,” you began to stutter, “You may have been running from me,”

Robb’s face fell, “Why would I do that?”

You sighed, turning to face the flames again as the tears threatened to spill, “It’s not like you chose this marriage. You weren’t exactly ever given the option. I wouldn’t blame you if you objected to it,” you muttered.

When he pulled away you could’ve sobbed but it was quickly replaced by confusion when he knelt in front of you, “Why would I object? all I desire is to be a good and faithful husband to you and may gods help me I will be. I wouldn’t desire another option if I was given a thousand,”

“Why?” you could feel venom briming in your voice, “Because my dowery? Because the king commanded it?”

The hurt on his face felt like a stab to the gut but his words only twisted the knife, “Because I love you,” he took your hands in his, “and I understand that you don’t feel that way for me and may never, but nothing will stop the way I- “

You didn’t even realise you’d moved till you pulled back from the kiss. Without thinking your lips had found his and now you stared into his eyes. It only lasted a second before Robb lusted forward, reconnecting the kiss into a messy, desperate thing.

As you felt him raise, you followed, standing to kiss him as his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands rested on his shoulders, now fully able to appreciate his strength.

You wanted more but he pulled away, your lips chased his making Robb breathe out a laugh. “You’re something else,” he muttered, a grin on his face, “I can’t imagine not wanting to be with you,”

This time your arms tightened, burying your head into his neck as you hugged him close. Robb followed suit, his muscular arms keeping your warmer than the fire, “I feel the same way,” you eventually managed to stutter out, “But I- “

“You don’t have to say it,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head, “I understand,”

“How did I get so lucky?” you pulled back to smile up at him.

He just smiled back, “I ask myself that each night,”

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[eccentricallygothic]

Husband!Robb ‘The Wolf’ Stark | Wife!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, husband Robb Stark, fear kink, power imbalance, doggy style, rough sex, spanking, biting, mirror sex, mention of edging, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact.

“Is it true?” You were tinkering with some medicinal herbs when the children approached you before they crowded around you. You looked up from what you were doing, and then silently raised an eyebrow in question. “That your husband can turn into a wolf at night?” Your breath ceased for a couple moments, heat coursed through your veins and your consciousness drifted into a series of recollections. 

So many times, so many moments, so many nights. 

Different positions, various spots all over the estate and a myopic vision that you owed to the tears that would stain your face. 

And through that barely functional vision images of your parted panting mouth, bent and flush knees, pulled back head -due to the way your hair wrapped around the pale fingers of your eternal ravisher-, neck and breasts painted in purple fang marks, nipples inflamed from how they had been treated, buttocks covered in handprints and arms compliantly folded on the small of your back. Your form pushing face first into the mattress with breath stifling force before being pulled back with a limb tearing strength in such a rapid unceasing cycle that it caused for the brutish violator bent atop you to appear inhuman as he used you in his monstrous way that you could see through the body size mirror placed on the wall in front of your bed. 

Realization seeped through your brain cells. 

Man.

Man-Wolf.

Wolf-Man.

Wolf. 

The dark mop of messed up curls that graced your dear husband and cruel defiler's head was amess as the loose damp strands flew about, his nose flared to help with his panting, chiseled features stern under the dark coarse hairs of his manly beard, beastly muscles tense as he effortlessly held your submissive figure bent to his pleasure with one hand, the other holding one of your compliant legs up in the air in an obtuse angle, his skin covered in a shadowy brown vell in such a way that your opening that his cock had stretched open nearly to the size of a woman's in labor clenched around the man-creature's monstrous girth. The deafening sound of skin colliding against skin was on the verge of marring your eardrums, his piercing dark blue eyes watching you through the mirror all the while.

They watched you even now from across the room where your dear husband and Lord sat telling the stories of his recent expedition to everyone willing.

There were always hundreds if not thousands of those.

Words didn't always require a necessary exchange between the two of you.

Your cheeks threatened to bubble up from the heat compressing itself underneath them. Your fingers had ceased from crushing the herbs between the mortar and pestle long ago. A hot drop of meek arousal sizzled past your covered opening -which blinked in response- and coursed down the insides of your thighs. Your breath hitched as you laboriously swallowed and licked your lips. 

“Mhm” was all you could let out in your shy state that he had influenced with a mere stare. You looked up at the children before you proceeded to nod your head politely so as to not stir the sanctity of your Lord's presence with too harsh a gesture. The children gasped and whimpered before scurrying off, too young and afraid to say it out loud but in their naive minds extremely terrified for your wellbeing. 

The longer you felt The Wolf staring at you the more you sensed yourself sharing the sentiments of the young ones. 

You bit your lip and dared not look up from your work. 

Because you were always tortured cruelly before your taking solely for the purpose of His Lordship's amusement if the eagerness in your eyes was too visible.

And it was always embarrassingly visible.

[luvinescent]

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

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

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

Dorea named her Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can become a Stark”.

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you love him?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dipperscavern]

idk if you would write but i would love to see in ur style a tyrell!reader x robb. imagine being the winter rose? omg living the biggest dream by being a beauty of the seven realms, having tales of ur beauty passed on, and then being betrothed to robb as a mean of house tyrell to guarantee their safety, but still, theres no northern or southern who can resist the tyrell beauty and robb is one of them

nana.. this ask did things to me. i love this idea smsmsm & thank u for sending it in !!

tyrell beauty was never anything that could be denied — by friend or by foe.

you & your twin sister, margaery, were the greatest testimonies to that. while margaery was no doubt beautiful, tales of your beauty had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. singers, poets, servants & kings alike had all heard and contributed to the spread of the tale of the tyrell rose — not only beautiful in physical aspects, but a gorgeous personality to match.

you & margaerys older brother, loras, was also rumored for his looks. safe to say, you three were widely known.. the beauties of house tyrell.

even the north, cold and harsh as it was, was not exempt from hearing the tales of you & your siblings beauty. jokes and speculations had long passed around winterfell, only increasing tenfold when hearing about house tyrell’s rumored interest in forming an allegiance with the north. when bran, rickon, & arya stepped into the castle, covered in dirt & almost soaking wet from that days ministrations, jory only sighed seeing them, ushering them to baths with a mutter of-

“the beauties of winterfell…”

robb only laughed at the teases he heard about you & your siblings, but sometimes found his thoughts wandering to you. his mind often drifting to think about the tyrell rose, absurd childlike questions, that he should’ve pushed away as quickly as they entered his mind. do the tales do your beauty justice? what are you like in person? are you warm? would you like him? what would you think of the north?

he focused on training, doing as he was told & preparing to become lord of winterfell one day, although he couldn’t stop the fleeting thoughts about you that arose every once in a while. a child’s dream, he thought.

so you can imagine his surprise when his father & mother sat him down, telling him of the alliance house tyrell wanted to make with house stark..

through marriage.

robb felt like he was dreaming. the beauty of the seven kingdoms, betrothed to him? he could barely keep the smile off his face, wanting to not only improve stature to his house, but do his duty as a husband. excitement pooled in his gut, as theon clasped his hands on robb’s shoulders at dinner, congratulating him. theon’s hands waved in the air, saying something about-

“the beauty and the beast..”

any other night he would’ve gotten a shove to the ground, but robb only threw him a playful smile. even theon’s relentless teasing couldn’t ruin this for him. if he was to be lord of winterfell one day, he’d need a strong woman by his side — he dreamed of a relationship like his mother and fathers, and he prayed in the godswood to the old gods that night, that they would guide your union as man and wife.

in the days leading up to your arrival at winterfell, countless preparations were made. the tyrell host was large, and all of the starks had done their parts to prepare to receive it. you were to stay in winterfell for a week before the wedding, and your family would leave shortly after. you had handmaidens and a few select soldiers to stay with you at winterfell, and you could visit high garden anytime you wanted in the near future. you asked your grandmother if she would visit you in winterfell again after the wedding, but she only put a hand over your own & said it would take the Father himself to drag her back to that “frozen wasteland”.

the day you arrive, robb thinks he’s might jump out of his skin, he’s so nervous. still, he puts on a brave face for his & his families sake, wanting to be everything you need and more.

you, margaery, and the queen of thornes are riding in the wheelhouse, while ser loras is in front of it, mounted on a white mare. his armor glints in the sunlight, doing wonders to illuminate his face. he’s handsome, robb can admit, and that only makes his curiosity increase about you & your sister. & once you both step out of the wheelhouse, robb feels his heart skip as many beats as it can without killing him.

a few of your cousins step out first, giggly as they curtsy to the starks and stand respectively to the side. margaery is next, gorgeous auburn hair & a button nose, a flattering dress with the tyrell colors proudly on display, and a sweet smile to accompany it all. she curtsy’s as well, standing more in front of the wheelhouse, as loras dismounts and moves to stand next to her.

when you step out of the wheelhouse, robb’s breath hitches. his body forgets every single instinct he’s ever had, & he has to remind himself to breathe, as to not kill himself. you’re beautiful. stunning. a sight for sore eyes. he doesn’t think there’s any word in the common tongue that can be used to describe your beauty without downplaying it. it seems like nobody can tear their eyes off of you, your aura doing wonders to brighten the damp atmosphere.

you curtsy to them all, along with a smile he wishes would never leave your face. robb can’t tear his eyes from you, even when you move to offer your hand to the queen of thornes as she steps out. you meet robb’s gaze in the moment everyones attention is not on you. the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk as he winks at you. you only tilt your head, brows lightly furrowing as you smile at him. your gaze falls to the floor as blush rises to your cheeks, retracting your hand from your grandmothers and smoothing out your gown.

pleasantries are exchanged, you and robb stealing glances to each other every so often. lady olenna & a few of your cousins go with ned stark & lady catelyn, moving to discuss the wedding, among other things. you take robb’s arm as he escorts you, margaery, and loras to where you’ll be staying at. robb drinks in every moment with you.

you’re gorgeous, soft, & warm. you have a kind heart, a love for the arts and children, and you’re very kind. your shy nature bubbles away as you grow more comfortable in each others presence.

that night, a great feast is held. everyone of the starklings is made to be in attendance, and robb prays that arya can keep her withering resolve just a little bit longer. you’re sat beside him, softly laughing at a remark ned had made. robb’s heart warms at the sight of you & his father getting along, but is quickly forgotten when he sees arya dash away & out of the hall. guards are sent after her, and robb bites back a smile at her daring antics.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts as your hand clasps his bicep, his head turns towards you as you lean into speak in his ear.

“forgive me, i must be excused. i’ll return shortly.” you say, a reassuring smile making its way onto your face as you get up. robb only nods, sighing in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves.

it’s a few minutes later when the queen of thornes sits next to him, striking up light conversation. judging his character, no doubt. at the end of it she nods her head in approval, asking him to please find her granddaughter — wherever she’s run off to. robb stands up with an-

“of course, my lady.”

moving to follow the direction you went in. it takes him outside, and he looks around, before his gaze settles on you & a small form behind you, a guard approaching in front of you. robb was lucky to be in earshot of you.

“pardon, my lady, we’re looking for arya underfoot, ned starks daughter. ‘bout yay high, brown of hair. have you seen ‘er ‘round?”

you were stood beside a pillar, one arm behind your back as you discreetly pressed arya further behind you. one shift of your form & arya would be revealed, dragged back to the festivities she had just escaped from. robb watched you from afar, careful not to give away your position — but close enough to hear & see your response. curiosity spread through him as he and the guard both awaited your answer.

your brows furrowed in faux confusion, looking at the guard with a soft expression.

“i must confess, i haven’t seen her. brown of hair, you said?”

the guard swallowed, nodding as he eyed you up & down. you smiled sweetly at him.

“i will be sure to keep an eye out, ser…?”

you slightly raised your brows, and the guard quickly gave you his name. you repeated it to him, and the guard nodded, smiling.

“would you be so kind to escort me back to the festivities? a castle like this.. it’s so easy to get lost.”

the guard quickly agreed, not being able to resist you, & robb is enamored, having witnessed the tyrell charm firsthand. what happens next seals the deal for robb.

as you move to take the guards arm, you spot loras patrolling, his path sending him to pass on the other side of the pillar that you’re at. the eye contact between you both is minimal, and robb almost misses your eyes slightly widen & the small nod of his head. with one swift move, you’re grasping the guards bicep & using your other hand to gently push arya to your older brother, as he outstretches his hand just enough for arya to get the hint. as you walk off, loras has one hand on aryas shoulder, ushering her off with a wink — & robb watches the smile grow on aryas face as she slips away.

yeah, he thinks. you’re perfect.

his winter rose.

sorry if this was too long or not what you were envisioning, but i had sm fun writing this !! tyrell supremacy

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) Robb Stark as a husband

Pairing: Dark Robb Stark x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SCENARIO: How Robb Stark is as a husband.

WARNINGS: Toxic Marriage.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

A little treat cause tomorrow college starts and I'm nervous :) hope you guys like it.

--

Robb married you for duty but he fell for you in the most passionable way there is.  

How smithen he is by you soon becomes obvious, not just by you but even to his family. His siblings taking great pleasure in teasing him for being so whipped for you already. 

It’s endearing to have such a handsome, kind spouse and you couldn’t be any happier, thanking the gods for granting you such a fortunate destiny, one that not many women receive.

Not only did you receive a wonderful husband but also supportive in-laws.

Life is nice. 

A good husband, a caring family, you have food in your belly and a warm castle to live in. What else could you possibly ask for?

Each day you fell deeper for Robb, your heart content with the love that quickly blossomed between you two.

Maybe that’s why you remained blind for so long. 

Robb's devotion quickly becomes overbearing, completely enraptured by you. Your love for him doesn’t allow you to see it clearly but there are few instances that leave a bitter memory. 

Like when Theon hugged you out of contentment. It was a brotherly gesture, no lust behind it yet it didn’t stop Robb from landing his fist in the poor man’s face. The guilt you felt as Theon’s eye bruised into a black eye in the following days had eaten you away.

Peace was soon restored, Eddard Stark would never allow the boys to remain upset with each other, but it bothered you that a simple touch could arise such an angry reaction from your gentle husband.

You remember it when you had difficulty adjusting to the freezing winter and the constant snow, you asked Robb if you could visit your parents. Only for a few days, you assured him. 

You felt homesick so seeing your family and the warm weather from your hometown would definitely cheer you. Your wishes were left unattended, an apologetic kiss being pressed to your temple as innumerous apologies come out of his lips.

He couldn’t leave Winterfell at the time being.

His family needed him.

He had too many responsibilities at that time.

Robb promised you that he would take you there one day but that’s a promise that never came to fruition.

The mantle of ignorance slowly starts to disappear as the months drag by, the realization that Robb wasn’t nearly as perfect as you painted him to be. 

Constantly hovering by your side, keeping an attentive eye on who you talk to, restraining the places you’re allowed to go. The lack of privacy and power gradually bothers you more and more, feeling yourself getting smothered by your husband’s protectiveness. 

His family notices it, his protective behavior. But all of their reasonings and pleas fall under deaf ears. 

Robb doesn’t listen to them.

He does what’s best for you, without needing the meddling of his parents. He knows what’s best for your marriage, not them. 

And right now, Robb thinks what it needs is something to reignite the flame of love between you, just like it was when you married him, less than a year ago.

He does need an heir, after all.

[rise-my-angel]

More headcannons about the Starks being doms!!! Pleaseeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay starting off saying, all Stark men are doms, just in different ways. But let's start from the eldest down.

Brandon Stark:

Easily a hard dom. He was short tempered and described as very distinctly as having "wolfs blood". He loved fighting and always kept his sword sharp and with him. I have a distinct theory that he was a power bottom, preferring women on top of him but without actually giving them that control. Probably didn't talk a lot, and when he did was just purposely filthy. He also definitly liked to take things rough, considering Barbrey Dustin says this about him.

"I still remember the look of my maiden’s blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well. A bloody sword is a beautiful thing."

That is some hard dom behavior right there.

Eddard Stark:

If there was a Stark who was closest to a switch then the others, it would be Ned. But I think that is more because Ned is just rather vanilla in comparison. There is zero reason to believe Catelyn likes being in charge in the bedroom, but I also think Ned is far more of a soft dom. Not very talkative, probably more intimate, and he doesn't push Catelyns limits. But he does in fact, go hard.

The man gave her five children, and Catelyn literally implies in the first book that Ned fucked her so hard she was in that afterglow pain only a man who goes rough can give.

"Her loins still ached from the urgency of his lovemaking. It was a good ache."

Submissive men do not fuck so urgently they leave their wife laying in bed sore as fuck from getting pounded. Ned is probably the least kinky of the present Starks, but certainly still a soft dom.

Benjen Stark:

We see he has a very dominant personality, how easily he takes control of a conversation and establishes himself as someone to be listened too, but considering he clearly joined the Nights Watch at an early age, it's safe to say Benjen grew up a man whom was just not involved in sexual encounters.

If he did fuck, he'd likely be more of a soft dom with a side that likes to tease and be playful, but I assume he's either never or had very little sexual encounters to say for sure what he'd be like as one. But in his everyday personality, he certainly commands authority when necessary which is proof of dominance enough for me.

Robb Stark:

If there is the biggest example of a hard dom, it's Robb. This man takes you like a goddamn wolf. Flipping you onto your hands and knees, shoving you further into the furs of his bed, going fast enough you can't catch your breathe and rough enough that you feel him well into the next day. He will yank you up to his chest and purposely mutter depraved shit in your ear, mock you for your pleasure knowing it works you up more when he does it. Calling you derogatory sexual terms in bed to keep you in that subspace (he doesnt say them to hurt your feelings you know its all part of a kind of rougher roleplay essentially).

We've seen him take command in every situation. He knows how to seize control of a conversation even with opponents as difficult as Jaime Lannister. He doesn't falter, knowing he has everything in his favour and is sure of himself. Putting men twice his size like Greatjon Umber in his place but still managing to secure his upmost dedicated loyalty at the same time.

Robb probably the most forgets to be romantic in bed, but he makes up for it any other time. It's just in bed, when Robb is fucking you, he is rough and mean. You both know its with love and you both like it, but he is a true hard dom.

Jon Snow:

If his brother is the definition of a hard dom, Jon is the definition of a soft dom. Jon is incapable of being mean to you, truly being mean. He'll never whisper filth for the sake of it, never try to mock or embarrass you, will never use anything close to something derogatory towards you in what he calls you. Jon is passionate, raw, and very intimate about sex with you, and he needs a lot of both skin to skin contact and he needs to be able to kiss you as much as he wants.

But, he is also very controlling. More then he realizes. Jon is unpredictable in bed, because what he wants varies wildly. Sometimes he takes you slowly, but goes for hours to the point he is still inside you as you pass out, which he keeps going. Sometimes, he is rougher then he even realizes. Jon leaves bruises all the time from how tightly his hands grab at you alone, and he goes rough to the point sometimes you almost are pushed too far, but Jon somehow always ends up making you crave it.

You basically will never choose how the night goes. Jon always controls you in bed, and you let him. It works him up to an endless degree that you so completely trust him with you to the point he basically owns your autonomy in bed. He can convince you to do anything knowing you'd let him, and he won't give you what you want because he knows your needs and limits better then you do.

Jon is soft and loving with you in bed, but he is a dom through and through. Jon alone is the one in total control in the bedroom and he will always keep it that way.

[myladysapphire]

Duty

Robb Stark had kept his oath to house Frey and married you as a result allowing him to win the north’s independence however he now has to live with the sacrifices of duty and must find out if duty is truly the death of love.

word count: 3,992

CW: MDI 18+, slight smut, p in v, angst, arranged marriage, infidelity, childbirth, unhealthy dynamic, toxic relationship? open ending, pregancy, not proofread!

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Masterlist | part two

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Duty.

The word rang in your head as you stared at your husband.

He was yours; you were his but as his eyes wandered across the hall you knew he was not entirely yours.

A mere hour into your marriage and you already felt the strain of an unfaithful husband.

The longing looks he gave her form across the room were the looks you had wished to feel.

You were the youngest daughter of Walder Frey and his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby, and though your older sister Roslin was often called beautiful, you were considered beautiful. It was the one-word Robb stark had said when he saw you, the only word he had said to you beside your wedding vows.

He hadn’t even spared you a glance since the ceremony, most of your conversations had been with his mother, Catelyn. She had been kind, having been the one that choose you as his bride. But you knew it was not your beauty that she chose you for, it helped of course, pleasing Robb if only by a little. You were neither smart, cunning or wise. You were simple normal, with no special skills to sway the eyes of suitors or to persuade your husband. She choose you, the often forgotten daughter, with no influence or means to gain any, for that reason alone.

It was clear to anyone the marriage and alliance was an unwanted one. Especially to your husband and the woman he loved.

He did not dance with you once, offering no words beside the necessary pleasantries, the kindest act he seemed to do was forbade the bedding ceremony. Though there was little bedding done that night, though the act was done, he neither spoke a word to her or stayed the night. And from the whispers she heard the next day it seemed he had gone to her swiftly after.

He had left after that, though he did not say goodbye, or offer to write to you. You were simply left with his mother, set to journey to the Winterfell.

The journey as not long, taking less than two weeks before you saw the peak of Winterfell’s towers. It was a wonderful sight, having never left the twins, and rarely being allowed outside. Seeing the castle of Winterfell was a freeing experience. There seemed to be endless halls, some bare and empty allowing the privacy you had never once had in the twins. The god’s woods was even more magnificent than you had expected, it expanded for acres, with endless trees and countless springs waring both the gods woods and the castle. You felt some peace here, but you had also never felt more alone.

You were looked at as an outsider, talked to as one, and it was clear you were unwanted.

As the moons passed, you felt even more alone, you only heard about Robbs victory through his mother, the one person who didn’t talk to you with resentment.

Then you realised you had yet to bleed since your wedding.

And the word duty once again rang in your head.

You were pregnant, a fact that made you seemed more welcome, people were kinder to you. And yet you felt more alone, suddenly surrounded by people who only cared for you know you cared the heir.

The heir to a man you did not know, the heir to a man who scorned you on the day of your wedding for another woman. He didn’t even have the respect to at least act like a loyal husband.

You had done your duty, but he had not.

For it seemed she was also pregnant.

You were far along in your pregnancy, near eight moons when you heard the news. The news that was accompanied by your husband’s victory. And the norths independence. Yet you felt little joy only envy at the news of her pregnancy. Envy that she gets to know him and he never once tried to let you know him, even in the fleeting hours they did have together.

The next month was lively, the keep full of servants and lords from all over the north preparing for their kings arrival. The planning of feasts and several other northern events to be held. And you did not know what to think, you had long craved to know your husband, but he seemed to want to forget you even existed, and even more so when he arrived, with her on his arm and a babe in hers.

You bowed your head, clutching your belly protectively as if their presence would harm the babe somehow, and greeted him “husband.” You spoke plainly, not in joy, nor as a move of possessiveness towards her.

He nodded his head, going to greet you in the same fashion but stopping himself at the sight of your belly. “wife” he said in shock, as if the very idea of you being pregnant or here for that matter was shocking.

You smiled, a forced smile and spoke softly, “come, husband we have much to discuss”

She had stayed put, looking lost among the faces of Winterfell.

Though you had started out a stranger those first few months, after your pregnancy was announced, though you had at first received false pleasantries to win your favour, a time that made you feel even more alone. Now you felt rather comforted by the halls and the people with in it.

You took your time to win over the people inside the walls, though you never felt that you could truly be yourself ,as you did not know entirely who you were anymore, but none the less, you no longer felt like a stranger, even Catelin had even started to heavily involve you into the running of Winterfell, and her kindness became truer to you, even more so when news of your husbands bastard spread.

Your basic and natural kind behaviour had one the loyalty of many of the people of the north as they sneered at her, shunning her away as they welcomed the victors back from war.

And from the kind smiles you received as you walked the halls to your chambers, chambers the lord and lady of Winterfell had traditionally shared. It had not crossed your mind about were you would know sleep. Never having shared the bed with another, not knowing what it is to share a bed, let alone with a man. It was also your belongings that filled the room, your tapestries and art, your nicknacks and clothes. His had either gone with him or remained in his old chambers, but know she supposed he was fully with in his rights to move in and perhaps even throw her out.

She did not know if he weas cruel enough to do so, or kind enough to let her stay. You only knew of him through the view of others, mainly his mother. An opinion you held   with restraint, seeing as what mother would not love her son.

He stared at you awkwardly once you entered the room, the realisation of never once talking alone coming to light for you both.

“your with child?” he asked after a moment.

You snorted “of course” you said “though I doubt you care much, seeing as you already have a babe”

“i…” he looked down ashamed, “I do care, though….though we barley know one another… I am your husband”

You snorted again, “really? And where exactly has my husband been? Not once have you acted like one, the only husbandly act you had done was to take my maidenhead!” you were mad, for so long you had been nice and kind, acting as if you cared not for his actions and now months of anger was finally spilling out of you.

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, especially as one of the first things you had said to him.

“i…I you are right?” he said, clearly unsure of what exactly to say, “I should have said something to you, told you of Talisa”

Talisa.

So that was her name.

“or at least have waited until after we were- “

“until it wasn’t our wedding day?

“yes” he looked down, “though I… I will admit I do not regret loving her”

Loving her.

Hearing it hurt, though you supposed you had to right to feel hurt.

You huffed, your eyes downcast, “must you admit it so freely? I understand we do not know each other, that you did not want this marriage, but it is our duty, and I…” you took a deep breath, looking up at him “I want respect, I want to be treated like a wife, and not” you couldn’t bring her self to say it, you were a woman scorned, scorned by your husband and yet he was a stranger, and in his eyes you hadn’t earns the respect you deserved. “…not like-“ you didn’t say it, he did.

“Like a duty?” He looked at you, “because that’s all that you are, a duty” he seemed to sneer “I once desired a marriage of love and then I was told I would have to marry a Frey” he hissed the name, ‘at first I hoped to find love with my wife, a wife I would not little say in, then I met her” you knew he didn’t mean you, how could he? “Talisa” he whispered “I love her more than I thought possible, and then I met you.” He shook his head “ you are beautiful, more so than she I will admit that, but I do not love you, and I very much doubt I ever will.”

“Why?” You asked, stopping him before he could saying anything more.

He swallowed “how can i? I do not know you-“

“Then get to know me!” You interrupted, moving closer to him, “we are to have a child of our own soon, do you not want to know its mother?”

He shook his head, “let me finish.” He spoke sternly, causing you to step back again.”I do not know if I want to know you, I have her and she for months was all I needed…” he stopped talking then, looking at you, as if hoping you would interrupt despite his words.

“And now i… she had a babe, our babe, a girl. And perhaps some part of me feels And perhaps some part of me the guilt of loving her, despite my duty to you.”

You shook your head, “I am your wife, you should feel more-“ you clutched your belly in pain, as a contraction hit.

 “are you alright?” He asked moving to you.

“I have been having them all day, it is nothing to worry about” you said as you shook it off only to be hit with another contraction.

“Are they meant to come that close together?” He asked worry clear in his voice.

You sneered “I don’t know you’re the one with a bastard, weren’t you there went she gave birth?”

“I… no we haven’t been together since the wedding”

You laughed “oh Im so sorry our marriage was such a inconvenience for your mistress”

He said nothing at that, leading you to believe that perhaps he wanted to continue his relationship with her and she was the one to stop it.

“I’ll fetch the midwives” he spoke suddenly, leaving before you could say anything.

Soon you were on your bed, a midwife between your legs telling you to push.

It was just you and them, woman you had never met, wishing you had met your mother so that she could be here for you and not strangers.

And it seemed the gods were cruel as they sent her in, she walked in saying she was a healer and was simply there to help, and by the worried looks the midwives gave her it seemed you needed it.

She went to touch you, and you flinched back.

“No” you whispered.

“The babe is breached” she said hoping to sway you, but the constant shaking of your head caused her to bite her lip a concerned look filling her face “I have experienced with breached briths, I can help you” she insisted.

“No” you simply said again, but this time she ignored your pleas, moving to sit on the bed and take your hand in hers.

You tried to pull your hand back but she only held on tighter, and leaned in.

“Please let me help you” she begged “neither of us want to be in this situation and I am only trying to help you”

“What so the gods aren’t cruel on you as they have been on me?”

She laughed “sort of I suppose, but also because I have caused you enough pain and wish to mend it.”

You looked at her, she was sincere, it seemed she too hated the situation they were both in, trapped feeling like the other woman, “fine” you gritted out.

She nodded “I need to move the babe” she said placing her hand on your belly and started to turn the babe.

The pain was terrible, the want to push and being unable to and the feeling of you babe moving inside of you, and then finally she said you could push, after that is was swift, and before you knew it cries filled the room, and your baby was placed in your arms, a boy, an heir.

“Congratulations” Talisa breathed, “he looks just like you” she said softly, you smiled nodding you head. He did, he lacked all the Tully features Robb ware, though it was clear the stark genes that skipped him wen to the babe, as he had a tuft of Black hair, and a part of you hoped for the grey eyes most Starks bore. But other than that he was every bit yours, your eyes and nose, he was all you.

“Should we fetch the king?” A midwife asked, and you shook you head,

“no, he knows I am here, let him come to me.” You said, as Talisa went to stand, “thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled “just because we are tied in the same way does not mean we must hate one another” she said, looking at you kindly, and you hoped she was right, because you hated the envy you felt towards her.

“We shall speak on this soon, but for now I shall rest” you said, focusing your attention back on your son.

“Of course,” she nodded. Leaving the room.

Robb did not visit you for ten days. No one did really.

It was just you and your son, Cregan. A stark name, though not a common one, you may know little history but the little you did know was about the dance of the dragons, and about Cregan stark. He was your honourable and loyal, traits you would raise your son with.

“Hello” you heard suddenly, as you Cregan was placed in your arms.

It was robb.

“Finally come to meet your child?” You sneered.

“I apologise” he whispered, coming towards you and looking down at your child. “I had matters to deal with”

“of course” you nodded not that you could see how he had not once found the time to visit you and your child.

“I here you named him Cregan” he spoke, softly smiling down at your son.

“yes, I thought it to be a good stark name.”

He nodded, caressing the babes head. “I had hoped to name him Eddard, or Ned…. After my father” he said softly.

“Was that what you were going to name your daughter had she been a boy?” You asked, though your tone was neither dripped with envy or anger, you had said it so nonchalantly, as if you cared not for the answer.

Both the question and your behaviour confused him, he did not know what to make of you, your personality, or how to even start a marriage with you. Or even if he wanted to have one with you. “Yes” he mumbled, “though we ended up naming her Minisa, after my mothers mother” he spoke with such a tenderness, and you realised you could never compete with her, no matter how kind she was, you hated her.

Hated that she was the only reason you could never know your husband, who he was and what he liked. How he looked when you woke up beside him or how it felt for him to hold you lovingly. Your heart broke at the future you would never have.

“Leave” you demanded, pulling Cregan away from Robb. As if Robb being close to him would hurt him the same way Robb being apart from you, had hurt you.

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“I can’t do this” you said, “I can’t, every moment of our marriage has been shadowed by here, I am your wife, not her”

“gods, I know that, and I hate it” he angry spoke back, “we both know neither of us had a choice in who we marry!”

“but you have a choice in who you love, why not try and love me!”

“Because you’ll never be her” He pulled back completely, “I do not want to know you, I only ever wanted her and I will only ever choose her.”

“then leave!” you spoke as tears fell down your face, “I will move out and into one of your over holdings as soon as I am able, and we will not have to put up with this farce any longer”

“good.”

And just like that any hope for a marriage was lost, your son would only know your face and not his fathers for years to come.

As the years passed your rarely saw your husband. With Cregan now five, all hopes of giving him another sibling had disappeared, as you and Robb could scarcely spend longer than a few minutes in a room together.

And though Cregan got along well enough with his siter, Minisa, a part of you resented her. Resented how she was Robbs whole world and Cregan wasn’t.

perhaps it was because you had pushed him away so thoroughly.

That your relation to his heir caused him to resent your son in turn.

And perhaps he hated you more now that Talisa had passed.

The birth of their second child had killed both mother and babe.

Robb had raged.

For months he seemed to only act in anger.

And then it all stopped.

He seemed to return to normal, expect he know insisted he do his duty to you.

Duty.

You hated the word.

Especially as you lay now on the bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you and your moans filling the room.

There was no emotion but hate in the way he fucked you. As if you were the very reason for her death.

As if you were the guilty one in the marriage, when all you had ever done was your duty. As if you existing had caused her death, as if you had killed her and not the winter sickness.

He seemed to fuck you as if you had killed her, pounding into you at a relentless pace.

There was no part about it that could make it seem like he was making love to you.

Not as he bent you over a desk, or pushed you to the floor and hicked up your dress.

Or as he barged into your room as your maids were preparing you for bed, dismissed them and instantly started fucking you.

You hated it. But you also loved it.

Hated how gave you every opportunity to top him, and not once had you.

You happily let him fuck you.

Enjoying the touch of your husband.

The pleasure of sex.                     

“fuck” he groaned as he came, releasing you from his vice like grip.

He rested his head against yours, catching his breath.

It was rare he fucked you on your back, often choosing you to face away from him as he fucked you.

You pulled back from him awkwardly, waiting for what always happened next.

Him leaving.

But this time he didn’t leave.

Perhaps it was because it had been over a year since her death, over a year since her name was mentioned.

Perhaps he had somehow forgiven you for whatever crime you had committed against him in his head.

He had been more…pleasant?

He had been able to spend time in your company without shouting or yelling at you for no reason.

He had had spent more time with his son, though perhaps that had been because you had taken his daughter under your care.

It hurt almost to care for her but apart of you loved her. Having always wanted a daughter for yourself, and for so long believing you would only ever have your son, Cregan. She was the image of her father, with little trace or her mother on her features. She was quite and shy though she liked you. Perhaps it was because Talisa had always been kind to you, at least to your face.

“the maester tells me you are pregnant” he spoke, as he moved to lie beside you.

“what?” you asked in shock. You had only just found out for yourself this morning.

He sighed, turning to look at you, “he said you were pregnant, about three moons” he said as he moved to make himself comfortable in your bed. “i..yes I am…I only just found out this morning”

“as did I”

It was awkward, neither of you knew how to talk to the other. Neither of you had cared to try until now.

you too moved to make yourself comfortable, tucking your self into bed, and turning your back to him. He sighed before moving towards you, blowing out the candle and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“sleeping with my wife” he said as if it was obvious. You had never shared a bed with a man, and feeling him pressed against you felt strange. It wasn’t comforting, nor was it uncomfortable.

“oh”

“oh?” he mimicked.

“why?”

“well…we are husband and wife it is time we started acting as such”

You huffed, “ we have been husband and wife for nearly six years now and not once have you slept in my bed.

“well that’s going to change” he said, and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

The next few months had been so different from the previous years.

Though you had not stopped your previous duties as lady of Winterfell. It seemed now with Robb instant on being a dotting husband you had more duties.

He had moved into your chambers, though you supposed they were rightfully his.

He insisted on taking all your meals together, walking in the gods woods every day together.

He had become kind, and for those few moons you thought perhaps you could grow to tolerate his misgivings and be husband and wife.

Then he called you, “Talisa”

He had said it in passing, not even noticing it at first. And then he saw how your froze and realised his mistake.

He had sighed your name in apology.

But you had ignored him. And realised that perhaps it would be better, not to have hope that you were more than a duty to Robb.

That to him you would never be her. Never be the wife he wanted, only his duty.

It didn’t matter how much he liked to play pretend. Giving you flowers and sweet kisses on your cheek. Deep down you knew you could never forgive him, never find the love and happiness you had long craved, that you deserved.

That you would be a wife of duty, and love was always the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

And he would never stop loving her.

authors note: this took me 3 weeks to write because i couldn’t figure out to make it have a happy ending. it was far to angsty and i couldn’t justify her forgiving him.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld RAYNETARGARYEN2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos

to be added to taglist

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

...................................................

Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her. 

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all." 

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this. 

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library. 

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly. 

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind. 

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again. 

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common. 

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder. 

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor." 

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone. 

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls. 

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise. 

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm. 

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said. 

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence. 

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her. 

But it quickly shifted. 

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry. 

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable. 

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked. 

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more. 

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades. 

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason. 

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck. 

She froze in place for a moment. 

This man would die at Cregan's hand. 

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway. 

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him. 

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left. 

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots. 

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift. 

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy. 

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck. 

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze. 

She could feel his smile against her neck. 

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment. 

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband. 

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up. 

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her. 

And the sound of the door opening. 

Her eyes shot open. 

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit. 

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed. 

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned. 

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out. 

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question. 

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

...................................................................

A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters

[sehaedazokla]

robb stark and a witch reader

fem! reader terms and descriptions 

a/n: robb and witch reader you will always be my most beloved…

you have never cared much for human men and hold every intention to continue that tradition with robb stark. despite his own misgivings, robb wishes to offer you all the courtesies a gentleman can provide. not without a tense jaw and a tight hesitation to his body; he has asked your house for assistance and been sent a lady in return. as alluring as your peculiar and haunting beauty is, robb needs men. he is met with equal disappoint in your own eyes – you have been sent to assist the lord of winterfell, not his young heir. neither of you extends a hand in welcome, but robb at least plays the part of a gracious host. no warmth is to be found in your stunning visage.

you find him rather boorish, brutish, unseemly – likely incompetent, having never seen battle. save for the blue of his eyes, brighter and clearer than the sky above. he is offput by your strange customs and odd manner of speaking, alongside the obvious dislike for humans.

your suggestion for a blood pact to seal your allegiance, for example, gives robb pause. he convinces you a signed scroll shall suffice.

sensible and cold, your advice comes to robb in eerie whispers with unimpressed gazes. he discovers quickly you have knowledge of a great many things and does not dismiss your counsel even if he is wary. in the stressful months following his assumption of his father’s role of his absence, it is you whom he finds himself turning to.

when not directly advising robb, your tongue spins unsettling riddles and breaths of valyrian, often cast to robb when he says something you deem foolish. there is no softness in your presence, no need for it. it is practicality that you offer, and practicality that robb is requiring. 

he is left watching as you draw in the world at your whim. your penchant for shadow and flame, how light and dark alike seemed called to dance upon you. the winds of the godswood blow high and crisp as you walk beneath their branches, robb leading you to the weirwood tree his ancestors have prayed to for centuries. light breeze carrying your hair about your face as you are told warnings and wisdoms by voices long since lost to most human ears.

the strangest of strangers to him. unknown and foreign, as distant and cold and lovely as the moon.

save for when you gain the favor of his direwolf, taking long strolls through the castle with the creature at your side. you speak to him in valyrian, and robb cannot tell if grey wind understands your or not. robb is almost childishly jealous of the ease with which the wolf took to you – had all loyalty been discarded at the arrival of this witch?

and rickon and bran do not seem to fear you in the slightest. robb would find this is because you have given them no reason to. your general scorn for humans does not extend to the children, whom time and attention are given to whenever it is asked. you never seek out their company, but always provide it when you can, even if it means leaving robb in the middle of providing counsel.

and perhaps it is both of your innate instincts to parent and protect that you notice in each other as a surprisingly piece of common ground. pensive gazes watching after the other as you both engage with the young boys. robb knows without your saying that you are the eldest of your siblings as well. 

but your efficiency in that department is where your true talents lie. you bloom like nightshade in combat, your skill with a sword almost as terrifying as your eyes. many witches are natural healers, your nature is more destructive than that. you seem more creature than human when you fight. and when bran’s life is on the line and robb is forced to lower his sword, heart clenched and mind racing, he sees blood trickling from the eyes and nose and mouth of bran’s captor.

the man dies quickly, melting to his knees, choking on blood as it spills from his face in crimson rivulets. when robb whips his head to see you, he knows, but cannot prove it because you have collapsed to the ground, faint and then unconscious.

you would keep your oath no matter the price you paid, to serve and protect the starks. it is by your bedside that he waits with anxiously wringing hands, his thick brows drawn together while the maester tries and fails to discern what has befallen you. the fire in the hearth flickers lowly as the night drags on, each moment that you do not wake worsening robb’s concern. grey wind curls himself by the hearth, resting among the furs.

you wake with tired blinks and a hazy memory, the first words that come from your hoarse throat ask after the safety of robb’s young brother. robb is a turbulent wreck of emotions: relief at your waking, frustration at his reliance on you in a time of trouble, gratefulness for protecting bran, anger at your quickness to do something that seemingly put yourself in danger.

 when you stubbornly and coldly remind him of your promise to serve him, he grips the sheets of your bed in a tight ball as he leans towards you with pained and frustrated worry.

“your life is not mine. do not be so reckless, i order it of you.”

[cdragons]

❄️ Imagine Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon ❄️

-> This will include headcanons about all Starks, but focus on these three dorks towards the end.

A/N: There's an utter lack of for our Kings of the North and Kraken, so this is my attempt to add to it. These might be a bit lengthy.

Here's the general dynamic of you, Robb, Jon, and Theon. I put in Hogwarts House Terms, but I in no way support JK Rowling.

Robb - Gryffindor

Jon - Hufflepuff

Theon - Slytherin

You - Ravenclaw

In the simplest terms, you hold the only brain cell.

-> Let's say you were a low-born girl on a trek to Winterfell so you could learn under Maester Luwin. You were a rare kind of low-born who knew how to read, and you wanted to learn more. Your parents didn't approve and tried to sell you off, so you ran away with a small travel sack of your journal, clothes, and some food. You cut your hair and wore breeches to look like a boy.

-> It took many days and nights, but you eventually made it to Winterfell and refused to leave until you met with Lord Eddard Stark. Needless to say, ol' Ned Stark was shocked to find the person demanding his presence was a four-foot-tall dirty child with feet caked in mud and steely eyes. He asked if something happened to your family and you immediately deeply bowed and asked if you could learn under Maester Luwin before fainting from a high fever.

-> While treating you and finding out that you were a girl, Luwin looked through your tiny journal and was shocked to find you knew your letters and could write better than his lord's children and ward. He read the passages you wrote while traveling. You drew pictures of different plants and animals and wrote your observations of them. Luwin decided right then and there that he would take you in as an apprentice. When you woke up, he told you the good news, and you were so happy you jumped in the air with a loud "WHOOP" before tackling the old man down with a hug.

-> Ned was a bit unsure, but he trusted Luwin's judgment. If his oldest advisor told him that he believed that you had great potential as a scholar, he believed him. When you were brought over to meet Lord and Lady Stark, you were shocked at how tall and imposing Ned looked. "ARE YOU A GIANT? DO YOU OWN THIS CASTLE?" were your first words to the man as a huge smile spread across your face. After being shocked for a few moments, Ned threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in ages. He patted your head and ruffled your hair. "No child, I'm no giant. But I am the lord of this castle, and your lord, too."

-> Catelyn was much more skeptical because what kind of low-born child learned how to read? When she led you to your new chambers, she asked you this, and you proudly answered her. "I taught myself! There was a traveler passing through my village one day, and I nicked his books and charcoal!" At her horrified expression, you made sure to clarify that he was already dead and you didn't take his money. That didn't really calm her down, but her husband already decided to let Luwin take you in as an apprentice, so you might as well learn how to dress and speak like a lady.

-> Jon was the first Stark child you befriended. Luwin ordered you to take a break from your lessons since you've been holed up reading and writing nonstop. You found him practicing alone in the courtyard, hitting a training dummy with a wooden sword. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you shouted to him. Your voice startled him so much that he dropped his sword to the ground and jumped like three feet into the air. "I'm training," he answered, and when you asked if you could stay and watch, he agreed. He was shy at first, but you and he built a quick and strong friendship after a couple more times you watched him train. There would be times you convinced him to take a break from his training, and you two would explore Winterfell's nooks and crannies. Jon didn't expect to like you so quickly, but you made it too easy.

-> Strangely enough, Theon was the second boy of the trio you would meet and befriend. It didn't go as smoothly as you meeting Jon. Theon thought you were one of the new maids-in-training and decided to tease you by tugging your hair and trying to scare you with stories about his Ironborn family coming to raid and burn keeps and steal rude pretty little girls. You just shrugged and told him, "I'll just cut my hair and pretend to be a boy. I'll even not bathe to smell like one - not the first time I did that." You then asked him if he knew more stories about mermaids and if Nagga's bones really made up the Grey King's Hall on Old Wyk. From there on, it became very noticeable to everyone that although Theon was Robb's shadow, he was only really soft with you.

-> Robb was the last to meet you. His mother didn't like the idea of her son meeting and befriending a low-born girl. But one day, he got hurt and went to visit Luwin. Imagine his surprise to see a girl his age sitting with Luwin as she read from books too hard for him to read. Luwin introduced the two of you, and you asked if you could help treat Robb this time since you felt ready. Very quickly, you treated his wounds. From then on, Robb would see you before seeing Luwin. He liked how close you got when you told him what you've learned under Luwin. He liked being close enough to you that he could smell your hair. It upset him to know that Theon and Jon knew about you before he did, but his ire quickly went away when you agreed to be his friend.

-> Ever since you began your lessons under Septa Mordane, you learned the benefits of knowing your stitches since you could use this skill to treat wounds and lower the risk of infection. You didn't care so much as the other stuff, but you quickly learned the most complicated and intricate stitches, which got the septa's approval. Whenever you had time to play with the boys again, you would always carry some needle and thread with you. You'd also carry boiled vinegar if you needed a disinfectant and a balm for wound care. This proved to be EXTREMELY useful as you four continued to play and grow older.

-> Because you were learning lessons under Luwin and the septa, you had to learn how to stitch, dress, act, and talk like a lady. Lady Stark grew very fond of you, as you were surprisingly complacent and took to acting more ladylike very quickly. This was not going unnoticed by the boys, and soon, it was very quickly becoming apparent to everyone but you that the three eldest boys of Winterfell were utterly besotted with you. At this point, Luwin thought you were like a daughter and his family. He loved you very much and warned you to be careful around your friends. He encouraged you to spend more time with Sansa, Arya, and other girls your age.

-> It frustrated you, but you still listened. You didn't know what the fuss was all about. Theon, Robb, Jon, and you were friends. Yep. Just friends. No hormonal teenage feelings emerging.

-> When Bran and Rickon were old enough, you quickly became as involved in their lessons as Luwin had been for the boys. You made their lessons fun and memorable for the young boys. Luwin looks at you with so much love and pride when the boys tell him about your lessons and how happy and excited they always act whenever you teach them something new. You've even made sums and history seem fun! You were also very involved with Sansa and Arya's education. They had Septa Morgane, but they also wanted to learn under you, and before you knew it, you were teaching four children - all younger than you.

-> Rickon and Arya absolutely worshiped you. You always had time to play with Rickon and never sent him away if you were busy like his mother and father had to sometimes. For Arya, she loved how you never thought her strange and weird for being so different from Sansa. These two followed you like ducklings whenever they had free time. The sight greatly amused Ned and Catelyn, as they thought it was the funniest thing to see how two young wolves are so dedicated to following you. And you being close doesn't go unnoticed by the boys.

-> Robb and Jon would stare at you with so much longing whenever you carried Rickon in your arms and sang him lullabies. They'd grow stupidly jealous that you could kiss Rickon and Bran's cheeks and foreheads to wish them goodnight or ease their pains if they tripped or fell. They would fantasize what their lives would be like if they could court you and take you as their wife. But it could never be.

-> Robb must marry a highborn noble lady as his father's heir to continue House Stark's legacy and ensure the North's safety. He knew this fact his whole life, but knowing that you couldn't be the one he took as a wife hurt him so much. To him, you embodied all the necessary qualities to be a Lady Stark: your kindness, beauty, wit, and intellect—just to name a few. Robb would try to impress you by escorting you to feasts held in the Great Hall and remaining by your side to joke and dance with you. After every dance, he'd take your hand and lay a gentle kiss on it as you would laugh and playfully shove him. Sometimes, when the feasts got too noisy and loud, he and you would sneak to just hang out in the kitchens. He would always get a stern talking-to with his mother for not talking with other ladies, but he only wanted you. Besides, how could he regret spending the entire feast beside you with your body pressed so close to his?

-> Growing up with Jon, you obviously knew about his bastard status. But you always told him that his name "Snow" didn't matter because he was among the most wonderful and sweetest people you've ever met. Sometimes, you'd successfully manage to take his mind off it, but there were days when it felt like the entire world was staring at him for it. Either Lady Catelyn said something very cruel and hurtful to him, or Theon poked too much fun at him. On these days, you'd take a few pastries or fruits from the kitchens that you stole, grab his hand, and hide away in the Godswoods. You would share your treats and talk about everything you've learned under Luwin. Sometimes, you'd have a book with you and read him your favorite stories about magic and dragons until the sun goes down. Jon won't really have much to say. He'll nod and smile and laugh, and sometimes he'll sneak glances and wonder how could someone look so beautiful and perfect in the sunset?

-> Theon decided it was better to go about the Ironborn way and "steal" you from whatever you were doing or whomever you were with. He'd go get you whenever you were with Septa Mordane and say that Luwin had called for you or if one of the younger Starks was asking about you. He'd get you out, and two seconds later, he and you were taking walks in Winter Town and goofing off. He'd also pull some dumb teenage boy pranks to get your attention. He'd tease you by asking you questions when you're off guard and make you say embarrassing answers. When you finally realize what you said, you would get insanely flustered and whack him while he laughs. But unlike with others, he'll actually apologize to you and make it up to you by showing you how to shoot an arrow. But honestly, it's just an excuse for him to get close to you. He likes to "help" by positioning your arm and standing extra close.

A/N: I got tons more planned but I didn't want to make it too long! But please comment or reblog to let me know what you think or if you have ideas you want to drop in my ask box!