#Sansa Stark imagine

[dumbkiri]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

+ Sansa's direwolf is supposed to be used as retribution for injuring a prince. [Name] shoulders the true pain of it all and demands a duel to solve this problem.

+ Song that I took inspo from The Throne Is Mine by Ramin Djawadi

“No, no, no, Lady wasn’t there! She didn’t bite anyone! She’s good!” 

Sansa’s strained anger heated Arya up as she stepped up for her sister and glared a hateful look at the Queen, “Lady wasn’t there! You leave her alone!” The young stark girl continued to glare at Cersei even when Sansa blocked her line of sight by reaching out to their father. 

“Stop! Don’t let them do this,” She begged her father then looked back at the Lannisters, “Please! Please, it wasn’t Lady!” 

Ned looked back at Robert with a storm brewing in his brown eyes, “Is this your command? Your Grace?” 

Arya flicked her eyes between her father and his best friend. She saw the settled look in the King’s eyes and she jumped up before he could speak or walk away. Her solution to saving her sister’s direwolf was the eldest Baratheon son, Sansa’s betrothed. 

“[Name]! He can tell you what happened, he accompanied Sansa by the creek! You have to ask him what really happened!” Arya looked at the King and the big man hummed, deep in thought. He considered Arya’s suggestion in silence, the soldiers around him waiting for his word. 

Robert’s eldest son never lied to him and if he did, he was damn good at it. So he walked back over to the Stark family and told Ned, “I will hear my son out then this will be solved.” 

The King walked over to his seat and ordered for [Name]’s appearance. Everyone waited in a tense atmosphere waiting for the Stag Prince and his point of view of what happened today. 

A whistle broke the silence and the majority of the bystanders understood this melody that they heard. With his short style brown hair and striking brown eyes, [Name] walked into the room whistling the Rains of Castamere theme. He walked with poised authority and every man he passed greeted him with murmurs of ‘My Prince’. 

He casted a quick glance at the Stark family and grew strangely upset at the tears Sansa has cried while waiting for the fate of her direwolf. The whistling seized as he slowed his pace down to observe the streaks running down his future wife’s face. His apparent confusion didn’t waver his stride and he continued onward to address Ned with a formal greeting, “My Lord.” 

“My Prince,” Ned returned the small greeting then turned over to Robert. 

The King moved in his seat and gestured to Joffrey, “What happened to your brother?” 

[Name] looked over at Joffrey and noticed his right hand in some kind of bandage. He covered his chuckle with a clearing of his throat and asked, “He really needs to bandage a small nip from a direwolf?” 

“So it is true,” His mother questioned with a frown, “the beast did maim your brother.” 

“Maim?” [Name] didn’t hide his chuckle this time after his mother spoke. Truth be told, [Name] took the bite from Nymeria protecting Joffrey from the vicious bite. His eyes crinkled with humor tickling his spine, “Oh, come on, my brother prattles on about being a Stag and a Lion, but he can’t handle a nip from a Wolf? Mother really did raise you to be as soft as a-”

“You will insult your brother no more,” Cersei commanded, steering her eldest son’s attention away from Joffrey to her. 

[Name] listened to her demand and resorted to telling his father what happened between Arya Stark and his young brother; Joffrey.

“Nymeria did not attack Joffrey on behalf of Arya’s order. She did nothing to instigate the direwolf into an attack.” 

“So your brother is a liar?” Robert straightened in his seat, ready to end this whole ordeal with his eldest son’s words. 

“Father, you know as well as I do that Joffrey cries wolf the moment he can. He tried to tattle on me when I knocked him off his horse for insulting my lady. Now he stands there trying to diminish her sister’s dignity? I won’t stand for this slander against my lady’s sister.”

[Name] stepped closer to his father and stretched his arm out. Pulling the sleeve of his tunic up, everyone gasped at the actual bite [Name] took from Nymeria. The bite was more severe than Joffrey’s nip and [Name] quieted everyone’s gasps and tamed the blood boiling in his father’s stomach. 

“Ned, your daughter-” Robert snapped his glare full of fury at his friend. 

“Father, let me tell you the whole story,” [Name] interrupted and covered the bite again, “Joffrey tried to impress Sansa, by challenging Arya’s friend to an unfair duel. Our coddled prince demanded a butcher’s boy to pick up his sword and fight him; wood against steel. When the boy refused to do so, Joffrey enforced his authority as prince and wounded the butcher’s boy. 

“Arya could not stand this treatment her friend received and-” [Name] did his best to keep a straight face. Remembering the look on Joffrey’s face when Arya swung a stick at him brought [Name] great joy. “She whacked my brother with a stick needless to say.” 

A chorus of chuckles echoed in the room and Cersei silenced them with a stern glare around the room. 

“Really?” Robert grumbled and gave Joffrey a side glance, “not only did this girl disarm you, she landed an attack on you?” 

“F-father, she hit me from behind!” Joffrey protested. 

“And so what!” Robert shouted back, pointing at [Name]’s arm, “Your brother took most of the brutal attack from the damn wolf and I don’t see him crying to me about it! Are you so weak as to challenge a butcher’s boy who wields a stick? So weak that you have to whine about a nip from a wolf when your brother stands there terribly wounded?” 

[Name] casted a daring look at his mother and her steely eyes were already on him. He knew she had some questions for him. He already told the truth, and he hoped his father wouldn’t be swayed by her words. 

“And why didn’t you come immediately to defend your lady or her sister?” Cersei mocked.

Robert caught onto this and he shook his head knowing what kind of crap his queen tried to pull on their son. 

[Name] gawked at his mother and showed off his bite again, “I believe my open wound takes prejudice over this argument. Also I didn’t finish the telling of the events today.”

His wound stung with the open air caressing it and he pulled the sleeve over it. Then he said, “Joffrey, in a childish rage, swung his sword with the intent to wound Arya. He had her on the floor whilst he pointed the tip of his sword at her, a girl five years younger than him. As a dog or any other loyal beast would do, Nymeria jumped to protect her owner. And as an older brother would do, I took the majority of the attack from Nymeria. Yes, the direwolf grazed Joffrey, but it’s nothing serious.” 

“Nothing serious?” Cersei scoffed and pointed at his arm, “It tore your arm up.” 

“Yes,” [Name] agreed, “but Nymeria knows me. When she felt my flesh, she let go as quickly as she could knowing that I wasn’t the one threatening her owner. Mother, please don’t coddle Joff any longer and don’t try to do the same for me. I have great respect for you, yet it pains me to see my own lady cry.” 

Cersei blinked and knew what her eldest son referred to. She suffered in the red keep knowing the whores Robert took to bed. But her kind son, [Name], stood by her side and kept her company knowing his father whored around. He promised her that he wouldn’t let his lady endure any slights from anyone and she kissed the top of his head for it. 

“What is going on?” Joffrey spat, then pointed at Arya, “Her wolf has to pay the price for hurting two princes!”

“Lady didn’t do anything wrong,” Sansa whimpered and [Name] stood in his spot, struck by surprise. Then his glare settled on his father. 

Robert knew that look well and he sighed, “Your mothers wants a beast’s head and-” 

“No, I won’t allow it.” 

Everyone looked over at the Stag Prince who walked over to the Stark family with his hand on the pommel of his sword. He stood protectively in front of the wolves and explained himself, “I won’t let you kill my lady’s wolf over a squabble between children.” 

“What would you do then?” Robert questioned harshly, “You have been wounded and a direwolf is no pet. Tell me, son, would you rather this not be resolved and forgotten?” 

Ned knew Robert favored his eldest son and [Name] showing off his wound did not help the Starks in their case to let the direwolf live. Robert would do anything to protect [Name] and give his son whatever he wanted. But sparing a direwolf’s life may have been too much to ask. 

[Name] looked behind him and saw Ned giving him a warning stare. This old wolf would listen to his king’s command, even if that meant beheading Lady. So [Name] moved his eyes away from the lord and declared to his father, “I want this rightfully resolved and it shall not be forgotten by my lady, her family or me. I’m the one who should be slighted, the one who decides what happens as I am the one bearing the scar of a beast. Yet I seek no retribution for what happened near the creek. 

“So here is my proposition: I will fight for the direwolf to remain untouched and unharmed for the entirety of Sansa’s stay with me. I challenge Joffrey to a duel for the fate of this beast.” 

“This is not how-” Cersei began, yet Robert cut her off with a growl. 

“Fine then, a fight is what started this and now a fight will end it,” The king stood up from his chair and demanded everyone to back away from his sons. Robert agreed to this proposition because this problem would not be solved without a fight between his sons. 

Joffrey stood by his mother nursing his wrist, hoping that the woman would protect him from his brother. His eyes moved frantically between the queen and his princely brother, to his disappointment his mother moved away and his brother stood his ground. 

Meanwhile [Name] pushed his emotions to the side. He couldn’t allow his anger to cloud his vision or ruin his senses. He had to win this duel for the life of the innocent Lady; for his betrothed. He would end it quickly using his strength as it always was too much for Joffrey to handle. 

Quickly every man hugged the walls and made more room for the princes who would fight each other. They didn’t know which way this duel would go. If [Name] had been at his best, obviously the Stag Prince would easily overpower the Lion Prince as he’s done plenty of times before. But they all saw his gruesome wound. The torn up flesh had to be tensed and hurting the boy. 

“M-mother, this isn’t fair.” Joffrey muttered and Robert heard him as clear as day. 

“Fair?” Robert sneered, then he gestured to a determined [Name] and said, “your brother’s sword hand is more wounded than yours. If you cannot defeat him then you get to be made fun of by the soldiers watching. Now pick up your sword and get this over with already.” 

[Name] followed his father’s orders and pulled his sword out of its sheath. His arm twitched in pain, but one solemn glance at the worried Stark family fueled him to push through the aches. Steadfastly, [Name] took a stance and readied himself for Joffrey’s pathetic lunge at him. 

Joffrey always made the first move, his attack had been fast yet weak. 

[Name] blocked the sword away from his neck and pushed down on the blade. Since Joffrey maintained an unsteady stance, he lost balance quickly from [Name]’s unwavering strength. The blonde haired prince stumbled backwards with a pitiful grunt, and [Name] landed a kick on Joffrey’s chest. 

It hit his brother with so much force that when he collided with the ground, the air in Joffrey’s lungs left in one swoop. [Name] stalked over to his gasping brother and stepped on his sword hand to which Joffrey let out a painful cry. 

“Yield,” [Name] demanded putting more pressure on Joffrey’s wounded hand. He pointed his sword at Joffrey’s neck like how he did to Ayra earlier in the day. The blood from [Name]’s wound leaked down his arm and slowly painted the handle of his sword and hand red. 

With a strained coughing fit, Joffrey cried out miserably, “I-I…Yie…I yield!” 

[Name] removed his foot off of Joffrey’s hand and backed away sheathing his sword. Then he looked at his parents with a grim nod, “The direwolf lives and if something happens to it, he will lose his sword hand. Honor this duel, mother, Joffrey lost in a fair fight.” 

He knew his mother was cunning and she would do something to exact revenge on the Starks, so he threatened one of the important body parts belonging to any man. She gave him a nod that meant she heard him loud and clear. 

“Alright, son,” Robert stepped up and nodded his head, “the beast lives, now go have a maester stitch your arm up. Your blood leaves a trail.”

“Ned, your family owes my son a great debt now.” The king turned his attention to the Stark family after [Name] left the room. His dark eyes watched Ned bow his head with his daughters following in suit. 

“Of course, we shall thank him soon enough.” 

Sansa watched her future husband walk away with his trail of blood being left behind on the floor. Her bright blue eyes admired the way he carried himself even when wounded. He walked with pride like a lion, yet his steps were swift and light like a Stag. 

She admired him for stepping in between Joffrey and Nymeria, and protecting Arya all at once. Then when Joffrey ran away with his tail tucked between his legs, the Stark girls fumbled over the injured Stag Prince. He calmed them down with a charming smile and showed off his wound saying that it would be a badass scar in the future, he didn’t curse at them like Joffrey did.

From the bottom of her heart, Sansa knew that [Name] was the right one to be betrothed to. She knew that staying by his side would grant her protection, freedom and possibly love when they get to know each other more. 

“We will thank him when the sun rises,” Ned stretched his arms out to his girls and began leading them to their room, “It is time to get some well needed rest now.”

Yes, she agreed with her father. The events of today have severely drained her. Her thoughts were full of [Name], even her dreams were of their future together. 

The Stag and the Wolf would make a fine union. 

[axelsagewrites]

What They're Like in Bed

Includes: Margery, Sansa, Daenerys, and Yara (Asha in the books but more ppl kno her as Yara I think)

Warnings: mentions of (but not descriptions) of various kinks, subs, doms, degradation, praise kinks, thigh riding, and oral (that kinda thing) 18+

Word count: 905

Men's part here

Masterlist Here

Margaery

Margaery comes off as very in charge at first, which she is amazing at, but she can have a subby side as well. When she’s dominant she is a soft dom though. She loves to ride your face, telling you to behave or she’ll stop. She’ll sit you on her knees or over her lap, slowly staring to pleasure you and trail kisses on your neck. This girl loves neck kisses. Like obsessed.

She doesn’t do harsh punishments and instead will ban you from touching yourself, or worse her. She’ll make you watch her pleasure herself when you haven’t listened enough to earn it. When you do behave though she will shower you with praise. The praise can also be condescending in nature, saying ‘how good you are for a stupid slut’ or telling you ‘good job’ with a condescending tone. She wants to make you work for her praise.

When Margaery does allow her submissive side to show she loves to be overstimulated and if she trusts you then fully tied up. She could spend all day being tied up and edged just for the satisfaction of her release at the end. She loves when you grab her jaw or throat, even some light chocking, but she doesn’t tolerate degrading or spanking. At least not on her. You are a different story.

Sansa

Sansa was hesitant about having sex to start with, her trust always haven been broken in the past, so when you do start having sex you have to be very gentle. However, once she becomes comfortable things get amazing.

She’s defiantly a very shy sub who blushes when you make eye contact with her. She blushes like crazy when you praise her which is often because of her massive praise kink. She loves to be told how good she is, how sweet she tastes, and how perfect she is. The praise also helps her get out her shell. When she does is when she wants to experiment with things like temperature play with you dripping hot wax over her chest.

Her favourite thing is when you run her a bath, rubbing her shoulders, and kissing her neck, before joining her in it to truly help her relax. She defiantly loves more casual sex vibes. I’m talking laughing and giggling mixing through her moans, sleepy morning sex, lazy casual sex, making out on the bed as her hands wander your body.  Her absolute favourite thing though is when you go down on her. Sansa can be a bit of a pillow princess in this regard but she’s also a very caring partner so if you point it out, she will turn her attention on you.

Daenerys

Daenerys feels a need to be dominant with her partner due to her history and never feeling like she is treated seriously. She does love being dominant though and loves a partner who will sit at her feet, praising her and begging to touch her. She loves to deny you of her touch or your finish until she has heard sweet praise and begs fall from your lips.

Her favourite positions are definitely to do with riding though. She loves to ride your face or have you ride her. Sometimes she’ll have you ride her thigh, teasing how easy it was to turn you on. She loves when you worship her body and the trails of kisses you leave across it. She realises her subby side one time when you began to suck her nipples and she wanted nothing more than for you to keep going and to please you. Oh also she loves nipple play.

When she is submissive, she loves to please and be praised, being told how good she is and how she can earn her next reward and asking permission to touch you or to cum. While she’ll ask first, she will never beg. She doesn’t handle degradation or punishment well but she never brats enough to deserve it. She just wants to be taken care of and make sure that you reach your own peak in the process.

Yara

Yara is a dom who loves to tease. This girl will tease you from the moment the sun rises till it sets regardless of whether you’re in the bedroom or not. She loves to flirt with you in front of others. She loves watching you blush and stutter at her words however she also gets a kick out of the days that you flirt as boldly back. This causes her to step up her game, sometimes dragging you off to the nearest surface or wall to remind you that she was in charge.

If her partner were comfortable with her, she would love to try a bit of exhibitionism. Maybe not go all the way but the idea of someone watching her turn you into a moaning mess riled her up to no end. She also wouldn’t be against watching you with someone else, however only if and when she allowed it and she was very particular on who she would share you with. This was also the reason she loves threesomes.

She loves to have her partner ride her thigh, choking them as she does. She’s down to try a lot of different thing but she will tease you incessantly while doing so if not straight up degrade you if you allowed her. She’s very experimental.

A/N: I love the girls but why can't they have easier names lmao I keep auto correcting to Margery not Margaery.

[poisonsage808]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do an imagine with sansa, dany and margaery please? Reader has a black cat that absolutely despises the ladies, always hissing and even trying to scratch them when they get too close to the reader LMAO, how would the ladies react? Thank you ^_^

Her lover was sweet, kind and cuddly. Her beloved was utterly perfect! So why the hell did her beloved have such a horrible creature at their feet that seemed to try to literally scare them away.

♡ Margaery Tyrell ♡

• It started out as a useful sign. Wherever the beast was, as were you. It seemed the creature couldn’t be without your presence. Tolerable at first, now bothersome

• It hisses when Margaery is but two steps apart from you, any closer and looks about ready to mask her with power it shouldn’t possess.. but might

• “Darling,” Marg coos sweetly from the doorway, “Perhaps you would join me for a swim today? The weather is perfect for it!”

“I’d love to.” You smile as you rise to your feet, abandoning your work to offer her your arm.

Margaery wears a triumphant smirk as she accepts, hooking her arm through yours and leading you to the pond

• The damn cat sits on top of her abandoned dress and glares from shore as Margaery steals kiss after kiss from you. In the water you’re completely hers. Unfortunately unless she bargains with a witch to somehow turn you both into mermaids, it seems she’s stuck sharing your attention with this beast that loathes her

♡ Sansa Stark ♡

• If wolves did not cower in the face of lions, she certainly wouldn’t for a domesticated variant of one

• Sansa ignores your black haired beauty as it rests on your lap, batting her pale hands away if she dares to rest it anywhere on you

• Once it hissed at her and she hissed back

• Sansa does a sweep of her room before you enter. Hiding spots empty, windows closed, it seems she’s safe from torment for the night— but the moment you open the door the cat darts under the bed

• You laugh, though you don’t find it as funny when your cat hops on the bed when you’re trying to kiss your fiery lover

“Shoo!” You beg, gently waving your hand only for it to purr and rub its head on your knuckles.

“Could you confine your furry friend to your chambers for the night?” Sansa asks innocently, inching towards the edge of the bed.

She gets a well deserved glare from the beast in cat’s skin.

You sigh with a smile, “Perhaps that’s best.”

• Somehow it finds its way back into the room and pounces on the both of you while you sleep, jerking you awake as it bounds off to hide again

♡ Daenerys Targaryen ♡

• You bowed before your queen whereas the beast would rudely dance between your legs defiantly. Dany swears it’s on purpose

• She has bite marks and small scratches on her hands constantly from trying to hold you

• She’d tried everything. Bathing, bribery with treats or catmint (which only seemed to worsen the treatment she received)

• Dragons loved her! Dragons were bigger, more powerful and yet this tiny black ball of fur terrified her!

• Worse? Her children adored the terror. Not one unfortunate snack attempt was made. You were in utter awe over Drogon napping with your cat!

• The only time it scurried off was when Daenerys would take you flying. She adored the way you tightly held onto her, no little beast to interrupt you both while up in the clouds

[eamesandbellamyaremyheaven]

Somewhere, Now and Then Ch5 || Arthur x Sansa (Kalots/GoT Outlander AU)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword x Game of Thrones  Outlander AU (there’s no such thing as canon)

Warnings: Violence, blood 

Summary: England, 1945. After serving in the war as a nurse, Sansa Bolton (former Stark) seizes the opportunity of going on vacation with her husband Ramsay to rekindle their relationship. But what happens when Sansa finds herself travelling back in time, to the 6th century, where she meets the King Arthur and his Knights?

A.N.//- Needless to say, this is loosely based on the Outlander premise. The story is told through Guy Ritchie’s interpretation of the Arthurian legend, and for that locations and traditions - and the time itself - had to be adapted to work accordingly. Any questions you have, feel free to ask!

A.N.//- Thank you to the Anon that wrote that ask, this chapter is for you! Feeling validaded as a writer, I can't even begin to describe the feeling.... Much love, never change, you never know how much you can impact someone!

Prologue || Chapter One || Chapter two|| Chapter Three || Chapter Four

Chapter Five - Camelot

Petyr took his coat and hat, handling them to Mrs. Manderly, who greeted him with a smile.

“Any luck, Mister?”

“We asked around, but no one seen her. The police is setting up posters and a reward, that might spike the people’s interest.” Petyr replied with a weary tone. It’s been two days since Sansa disappeared. Lysa was a crying mess, wailing over her sweet darling niece, while he and Ramsay tried to work with the local police, pulling all their efforts and waking moments into find her as soon as possible.

Mrs. Manderly seemed apprehensive, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure she should. She pursed her lips, looking around the room, and only when she made sure they were alone she spoke lowly, only for him to hear.

“There are old stories, sir, about the magic of the stones. It is said that Stonehenge marks a place on earth were powers come together, allowing certain people, on certain days, to travel in time”

The woman spoke fast, and Petyr had trouble in understanding exactly what she meant.

“Your niece went to the stones, but didn’t came back, at least not in our time.”

“She travelled back in time, you say?” Petyr snickered, his eyebrow arching in amusement “Do you have any idea to when?”

“They say that it is different, every time. Each traveller must make their own journey, but it is said in the stories that they often return.”

Petyr looked the old woman in the eyes. She truly believed in what she was saying, and she was not shy with her beliefs. The last thing he needed was his wife becoming more hysterical and his nephew-in-law more furious.

“Can you do me a favour, Mrs. Manderly? I wish to keep this theory between us. The rest of my family might not take the news very well.”

“So you believe me, sir?”

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

※※※※※

The road to Camelot had been long and exhausting, and by the time the towering walls of the legendary city came into view, Sansa could feel the tension in the group. Arthur rode ahead, his posture rigid, his hands gripping the reins too tightly, as if he were bracing for something. Even Bill, who had spent most of the journey entertaining her with stories, had fallen into a contemplative silence.

Sansa’s breath caught as they passed through the massive gates, the clang of iron echoing in her bones. The city beyond was unlike anything she had imagined - grand and bustling, yet hardened by war. Soldiers patrolled the streets, merchants bartered loudly in the markets, and children ran barefoot through the muddy roads, their laughter a stark contrast to the grim expressions of the men who stood watch.

She barely had time to take it all in before Arthur led them through the winding streets toward the castle. At the entrance, a group of women awaited them, their dresses more refined than the common folk, their eyes sharp with curiosity. One stepped forward, a blond-haired woman with a confident stance and an assessing gaze.

“You must be Sansa” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Sansa hesitated before nodding.

“I’m Maggie. Welcome to Camelot.”

※※※※※

Preparations for Graybeard’s arrival began immediately. The halls of Camelot buzzed with activity - servants scurried to prepare the great hall, knights sharpened their swords with grim determination, and council members whispered in hushed voices. Sansa watched from the fringes, aware of the sidelong glances cast her way, feeling more like an outsider than ever.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Viking delegation arrived. Graybeard entered the hall flanked by his men, his presence like a storm rolling in. His cold, calculating eyes swept the gathering before landing on Sansa.

He smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

“Ah, a new face in your court” he mused, stepping closer “You do have the look of the North about you.”

Sansa forced herself to remain still, though every instinct screamed at her to step back.

“You know, there are many Starks in the North” he continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Curious that you ended up here, of all places.”

“You are mistaken, sir. I did not end up here—I am from here” she cut, her voice steady but edged with frost.

Arthur cleared his throat, stepping between them “Enough. You wished for an audience, and you have it.”

Graybeard’s expression did not change, but he inclined his head slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty. But the girl and I will speak again.”

Sansa exhaled, only realizing then that she had been holding her breath.

※※※※※

Arthur and Graybeard spoke privately in the great hall, the torches casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. As the others were dismissed, Sansa was about to leave when a hand caught her wrist. She turned, startled, to see one of the women from the court.

“Come with me” she whispered, urgency lacing her tone.

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Sansa’s hand and led her through a side corridor, down a flight of stairs, and into a dimly lit chamber hidden within the castle walls. Inside, a group of women sat in silence, their eyes fixed on a grated opening overlooking the great hall.

“Thank you Kay” Maggie said, as she gestured for Sansa to join them “We listen” she explained in a hushed voice "We may not be allowed in the room, but we still need to know what happens there"

Sansa hesitated, but then turned her gaze to the opening. Below, Graybeard swirled the wine in his cup, his voice casual but yet edged with something sharper.

“The North is full of Starks” he said “One of the oldest families, clever and ruthless as they can be.”

Arthur said nothing, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Are you certain that woman is not one of them?” Graybeard pressed. “Not a spy, sent to infiltrate your precious Camelot?”

A chill crept down Sansa’s spine. Around her, the women exchanged uneasy glances.

“If she was, why would you tell me that?” Arthur countered, his tone even “Revealing your upper hand doesn’t seem like a particularly wise move.”

Graybeard smirked, leaning forward “You killed my man because of her”

“They attacked her. Why?”

He took a slow sip of wine, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s “We are Northman. We take what we want”

Arthur’s expression remained impassive, but his grip on the goblet tightened “Not here. Not in my lands. Sansa is under my protection”

“For now,” Graybeard mused “But for how long?”

A tense silence stretched between them. Then, with a final, knowing glance, Graybeard set down his cup and rose. As he turned, his fur-lined cloak swept the floor, his footsteps echoing through the hall as he strode towards the door.

Kay exhaled slowly beside Sansa, while the other women exchanged worried glances.

Sansa’s stomach twisted. What was Graybeard’s plan? Why would he try to make Arthur believe she was a spy? What did he stand to gain from it? Did he actually think he could weaken Arthur’s reign through her?

Whatever game he was playing, the board was set.

And she was the piece being moved.

She just wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay ahead of it.

※※※※※

Later that night, she found herself wandering to the secret room, her mind racing. That was when she heard voices from the council chamber.

“She could be a spy” Bedivere declared, sharp and unyielding. “We know nothing of her, except that she appeared out of nowhere, conveniently in your path.”

“She saved my life” Arthur countered, though his tone was careful, measured “She had every opportunity to let me die. Would a spy save the life of her enemy?”

“She might, to gain your trust” another man suggested, Percival was his name “You think it was mere chance that Graybeard claimed her as one of their own?”

Sansa’s stomach twisted. She had expected distrust, but hearing it spoken so plainly, so coldly, stung more than she anticipated.

Arthur set his hands on the table and turned to the man on his right “Bill, you spent the most time with her so far. What do you think?”

“What I think?” Bill’s voice was quieter, but no less firm. “I think we cannot afford risks, Arthur. Not with Graybeard under our gates.”

Silence stretched long and heavy. Then Arthur spoke again, softer this time.

“I know”

Sansa backed away before she could hear more, bile rising in her throat. So, this was how it was going to be.

She was not safe there.

※※※※※

By the time Sansa returned to her chambers, her mind was racing. She had walked through the halls, her thoughts a storm, each one colliding with the next. She needed to think. She needed to act. She needed to find a way out of there before it was too late. But before she could process any of it, she saw a shadow move at the edge of her vision.

She knew it was him before anyone spoke.

Arthur.

He was standing by the window, bathed in moonlight, his face unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here” she said, masking the unease in her voice.

“You shouldn’t have been there” he countered

Sansa swallowed, feigning obliviousness. Her voice was quieter when she spoke “I don’t know what you mean”

Arthur turned to face her fully. His eyes, darkened by shadow, locked onto hers“You were listening”

There was no point in denying it.

“Yes. Yes, I was” she admitted, crossing her arms in front of her in a shield rather than a stance.

A muscle in his jaw tensed “Then you know why we must be careful”

“You think I’m a threat” Sansa remarked, but it was not a question, and Arthur’s silence spoke louder than any answer he could have given. She exhaled slowly, nodding “Of course you do” She looked away, her chest tightening with something she told herself was not hurt “Why wouldn’t you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The weight of something unspoken settled between them “It’s not that simple, Red”

“Isn’t it?” She met his gaze then, holding it with quiet defiance. “You saved me from harm, but you don’t trust me, even though I saved your life. Twice. You offer me a place in your castle, but you don’t want me here. Tell me, Arthur, what am I supposed to do? Am I allowed to leave, or am I your prisoner?”

He hesitated, as if weighing his words. And hers. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I don’t know, Sansa. But we’ll make it up as we go.”

And with that, he was gone.

Sansa stared at the door long after it closed, the bitter taste of truth lingering on her tongue. Sansa had spent too long waiting for others to decide her fate. That was about to end. Arthur might not have decided what to do with her - but it no longer mattered.

She had.

She was getting out of there.

Taglist is OPEN! @anonymousme86 @goodqueenkaro​ @purple-moon123​ @elvensansa

[fandomnerd9602]

Could you do a sansa stark x male reader please?

Sansa gently caresses Y/N’s face…

Sansa: must you go?

Y/N: Sansa I have to. The borders need protection. I cannot bear the thought of our home in danger.

Sansa grabs Y/N’s hand and moves it to her stomach…

Sansa: you come back…for us

Y/N: us? You’re-?!

Sansa smiles and nods, giggling as Y/N pulls her into a tight hug and kiss…

Sansa: come back. That’s an order from your queen

Y/N: yes my queen

[n-evermores]

Could i request sansa x reader? It'd be cute when reader bakes a lemon cake for sansa haha, thank you

When Life Gives You Lemons

Pairing: Sansa x Reader (could be seen as platonic or romantic)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 800+

A/N: I loved this request! It's so cute. I wrote this pretty late at night, so I hope it makes sense. haha.

You usually avoided the kitchen. Not intentionally, but because you had no reason to be there. But today was different. Melancholic was the only word you could use to describe Sansa Stark's demeanor lately. She smiled, but you could see the sadness behind her eyes. The Red Wolf missed her siblings, and you could only imagine she felt more alone than usual. She received a letter from Arya, but she knew it had been written months before, making her realize just how far apart they really were. She spent many years away from her siblings, and now that she had them again, they all went their separate ways.

Not wanting her to feel alone, you spent hours trying to figure out a way to cheer her up. You considered setting out to find any sliver of plant life in the sea of snow to bring her. But honestly, you knew that would only end in disappointment. You even thought about having one of the bards write a song for her, but knowing Sansa she wouldn't enjoy something so ostentatious. Finally, after passing a servant wheeling a cart of lemons, you ended up in the kitchen of all places.

The servants giggled as you fought with the cake batter. At least they took pity on you and helped you with the lemons, but they showed little mercy as you whipped the gooey lemon batter inside the wooden bowl. Droplets flew out and splattered over your face. But even so, you managed to dissolve most of the clumps into a smooth, creamy substance. The smell of flour and lemon was potent, and even you couldn't wait to bite into it.

"She's coming!" A young servant girl shouted in a small, squeaky voice.

You felt your heart beat quicker in your chest. Sansa was supposed to be in an important meeting and said it was an arrangement that could "last for hours." But judging by the footsteps echoing down the corridor, you knew that meeting must have finished a lot faster than she anticipated. Why was she so early? You feared your entire surprise would be ruined. You could only imagine rebuilding Winterfell and restoring it to its former glory took much of Sansa's time. But not enough time to bake a cake apparently.

You shook away your thoughts and tried to focus on the task at hand. "I'm not finished!" You said as you quickly poured the batter into a pan. "Stall her!" You insisted as you shoved the pan into the oven. It's not as if the cake would be ready in the time it took for Sansa to make her complete trajectory into the kitchen, even with the servants attempting to distract her from your endeavors. You dusted your hands together, sending residue of flour into the air. You turned in a flurry, staring wide-eyed at the tall redhead. "Sansa. Hi." You said dumbly.

Sansa quirked a brow as the corner of her lips tugged into a smile, "What are you doing down here?" She asked calmly. Her hands were clasped together in front of her. Her tall regal stature was intimidating and made you feel almost like a timid child in her presence.

You swallowed, feeling embarrassed as giggles from the servants filled the room. "Nothing." you lied, and terribly so.

Sansa chuckled lightly, knowing it wasn't 'nothing,' and moved closer to you. Her eyes roved over your face, and you saw amusement glimmer in her pale gaze. "Looks like batter." She swiped her finger over your face and brought it to her lips. "It tastes like it too." Her eyes gentled as the taste and smell began to fill her senses. "Lemon. My favorite." She murmured.

"Yes, well. It was supposed to be a surprise." You admitted, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Her eyes sparkled, "It still is." She said, "I can't believe you're baking a cake for me." She laughed. It was a light, airy laugh that warmed your heart and wrapped around you like a hug. Seeing Sansa happy was all you wanted.

"Well, I thought it would make you happy."

She nodded, "It does." she reached out to take your hands. "Thank you." She whispered. You could tell by the softness of her voice that Sansa knew precisely why you did it, "For cheering me up." She glanced at the servants, and as if they understood her silent command, they hurried out, leaving you alone with the Queen of the North. She pulled you close, hugging you against her furs.

"You're a good friend. I'm so lucky to have you." She murmured against your hair. You sighed as warmth and relief washed over you.

"I'm always going to be here for you." You said, and she squeezed you tighter. She may not have had her siblings in Winterfell, but at least she had you and lemon cake.

[hiatuswhore]

♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥—ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ sǝuoɹɥ⊥

♕ A/N: Ahhh I always get so happy when I complete these little mini stories because I have a terrible habit of not completing them despite have a full story ready to go. Send me any questions you have! I have already been gathering some of them and I am going to do one large overview and answer them all in a post. That will be posted in a few days. Sorry for the wait I didn’t realize how long it had been this definitely could have been ready days ago. Anyhow here is The Prince and the Street Rat—A Game of Thrones, the final chapter—well more like an epilogue.

♕ SUMMARY: The world works in mysterious ways and so does the residents of Kings Landing. One never knows what they find in the alleyways and rooftops. Whores, drunks, knights, thieves, sometimes even Princes.

♕ WORD COUNT: 2.3K

♕ WARNING: None

previous — Masterlist — next

♕ TAG LIST: @jasontoddorjasongrace @luluga @mizfortuna @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @out-of-life @dark-night-sky-99 @graykageyama @lepoulpe-blog @s0urmarvel @singitoutgirl26 @buttercup-beeee @omega-horus @linkpk88 @millies0bsimp @ly17 @hydrationqueensworld @skinmittensgoblin @herfantasyworldd @burningshewolf @reneehillary69 @minttea07

The young Stark walked without words, the taunting words of the Kingslayer still fresh in his mind. His slow gait through the icy corridors muted, offering curt nods to those who pass him. The air somber, the walls knowing. He opens his sister's chamber door without warning, the steel beneath the cloth in his hands nearly weightless.

“Septa Mordane says I have to do it again. My things weren’t properly folded, she says. Who cares how they’re folded. They’re going to get all messed up anyway,” Arya scoffs, throwing a cloak into the wooden case, a deep frown across her features. Jon glances at her white and grey direwolf pacing about, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s good you’ve got help,” He says, his tone low and gruff with a boyish hum, a gentle reminder of his youth. The amusement in his words reaching his sister but likely being lost on a stranger.

“Watch. Nymeria, gloves.” Arya’s frown falls, a smile taking her lips as she squares her shoulders. Nymeria stops in her tracks, taking a seat as she stares with a blank expression. The silence persists for a few seconds before Jon turns back to his sister.

“Impressive,” He says, a smirk ghosting on his lips as Arya tells him to shut up. She tries once more, but Nymeria merely tilts her head. “I have something for you. It has to be packed very carefully.”

“And I you,” Arya says, rushing across the room. She tosses several things onto her bed. A blunted wooden sword, an incomplete knitted cloth with a sloppy direwolf sewn atop, and many parchments. Her grumbles fill the room before a chuckle supplants it before returning before her brother with furs covering her hands. She places it on the bed, nodding toward him, “You go first!”

“Close the door,” Jon instructs, chuckling as Arya practically skips across the room. Her eyes never leave the cloth in his hands. Barring the door, she says no peeking. He removes the fabric, assuring her he will not look as he turns, holding up the dainty steel. Arya beams as she steps forward while Jon removes the sword from its sheath, “This is no toy. Be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

“It’s so skinny,” She takes it from his hand, her eyes traveling up the blade.

“So are you. I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won’t hack a man’s head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you’re quick enough,” Jon says, smiling as she gently waves it in the air. Her eyes locked upon her sword. She says she can be quick. “You’ll have to work at it every day. How does it feel? Do you like the balance?”

“I think so,” She fiddles with the base before looking up at her older brother. The two with the most Stark likeness besides Bran and Rickon. Jon leans down, placing his hand on the side of Arya’s face.

“First lesson,” His eyes lock with her own he speaks as though a sensitive secret sits between them. Small Arya clinging to his every word, so enthralled she fails to notice the smirk that threatens his lips, “Stick them with the pointy end.”

“I know which end to use,” Arya rolls her eyes as Jon hums a softness to him that the gods would soon wipe from the earth. He leans back up, dropping his hand, taking in every little detail of his sister as his future looms beyond the walls.

“I’m going to miss you,” He says, a silence sitting between the two before she steps forward, arms out wide. Jon flinches back, calling out careful as Arya’s sword swings ahead on his right. Arya places it down on her bed, looking up at her brother before jumping up. Her arms around his neck, he holds her from the ground as the two embraces. Jon mutters, “All the best swords have names, you know.”

“Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I’ve got a needle of my own,” She squeezes Jon a second time. Silence takes the room as the two hold each other. Arya pulls back first, Jon gently placing her back on her feet as she announces she must give him his parting gift. She nudges him to the side, removing the furs revealing a book. The cover shows beautiful sketches of dragons above a skillful drawing of Kings Landing. Jon’s eyebrows furrow, his fingers running over the title, Lady Calamity.

“Do not mistake my confusion for lack of appreciation, but why have you gifted me a book of—Targaryen history, I think?” Jon says, flipping open the cover sits a faded sketch. His eyes bounce over the assiduousness of the drawing. Many people appear to scatter around the couple at the center. A Targaryen cradling a bride in his arms, a dying woman.

“When people speak of the Dance of Dragons, we hear the same names and the same stories. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Black Queen. Prince Aegon Targaryen II, the usurper. Prince Aemond One-Eye, and Princess (Y/n) the beloved. The tales never speak the full truth. This Northern Sept dedicated his life to studying this through journals and parchments at the Citadel. Did you know Princess (Y/n) was a bastard from Flea Bottom?” Arya’s eyes shine with excitement as she speaks with nothing but confidence. Jon’s head snaps from the page to his younger sister, who beams at him. “No one can say for certain the relationship between the Princess and Prince Aemond, but there was a parchment from Queen Alicent to her father of an unbecoming friend of the Prince years before the war. The book believes it was the Princess. Some say they were friends and loved each other, and some believe the Prince to have an obsession. The reports are conflicting, but she is known in history as the third person to die in the Dance of Dragons. Hers and Prince Lucerys’ deaths sparked the war. Aemond one-eye torched Riverlands, the people rioted, and the realm became one of violence.”

Jon's eyes flick to the bottom of the drawing, the words staring back at him. The final moments of Princess (Y/n). The bells rang that of the swan song.

“Who killed her?” Jon asks, his eyes flicking back to the dying Princess. The drawing puts more emphasis on their faces rather than the movement around them.

“No one can really say. Many Septs challenge each other’s recounting of this history. At first, the realm blamed the Black Queen for the assassination of their Princess and the butchering of Aegon the Usurper’s eldest son. Sept Umberais debunked this in his research. While officially, the Black Queen and her forces are still credited, Lord Otto Hightower was executed by his grandson for the murder. It was incorrectly reported that Otto was beheaded during the fall of Kings Landing, but Queen Alicent's private journals reveal otherwise. The book goes into far more detail, but I think you should really read it. Sept Umberais found everything he could on the Princess. A bastard who shaped history. I do not wish you to die shaping history, but I do believe you will do great things, brother.” Arya flips the pages of the book, landing on another sketch, one of a statute. “During all of this madness, a statue was made in the Princess’s honor where she was laid to rest. Many believe her place of rest is one of misfortune if not given the proper reverence. I am going to visit it when I arrive at King's landing. Maybe receive a blessing for our family. Even King Robert was too afraid to desecrate it as he did the other Targaryen emblems.”

Arya flips to the final page, her brother’s eyes widening at the sight. The line work reflects an unmatched talent, the detailing almost intimate. Jon frowns, his chest aching as his eyes study your features. He cannot remove his gaze from the soft smile that nearly negates your forlorn eyes, “Princess (Y/n) Targaryen.”

The departure from Winterfell arrives with a heavy fog of naivety. Every Stark oblivious to the storm cloud lingering high above their home. Jon’s face of stone keeps all who travel around him without an inkling of his thoughts. When the opportunities arise, he opens the book, clinging to every word of the limited information on your life.

He cannot explain it, nor can he shake you from his thoughts. Besides his father, Jon cannot find another name that sparks this move in him. The journey to the wall consists of him wondering if you knew when it all began for you—if he will know. Your stories stay close even within Castle Black. It’s nothing like he imagined and everything Tyrion Lannister warned him of. Many nights, tales of your short life make the cold watches warm and the long days tolerable.

Arya’s journey south, her eyes bounce along the tree lines and hillsides. Her curiosity childlike and eager. Sansa rolls her eyes, sitting with perfect composure, a clear divide between the Stark girls. Their days in Kings Landing persistently absent from the others’ company. Arya walks the corridors picturing moments in history she’s read more times than she can recall. She treats the Red Keep more like a museum than a current resident to many, including herself.

“Must you always talk of a dead Targaryen Princess? Do you not fear slighting the King?” Sansa questions. Arya rolls her eyes, telling Sansa of the crown’s respect for the Princess. Septa stops their bickering, commending Arya’s knowledge while scolding her unladylike behavior.

She focuses on her dancing lessons and fails to convince her father to take her to your statue. Lord Stark, only hums, nodding his head to all her reasons but never answering the question. She’s sure it’s merely amusing to him, a laugh threatening him. The days blend into a smokescreen of routine, blinding the Stark girls from how swiftly the walls around them concave.

Arya’s heart hammers through her body with a ferocity that rattles the entirety of her entire body. She steps out into the road, the ding of the bells and chatter of the streets nearly nauseating. The few who pass her move with urgency leaving her in the dark.

“Hey, where’s everyone going? What’s happening?” She calls out. The two little boys who speed past her skid in their tracks, talking over their shoulder with glee.

“They’re taking him to the Sept of Sorrows!” The boy continues rushing up the stairs, Arya’s inquiry of who almost not reaching his ears, “The hand of the king!”

Arya drops the pigeon from her hand, rushing with the rest of the crowd. A few become many, and the back of their heads becomes her main view. The unfamiliar courtyard does little to halt her movements. She steps onto the side of the statute, not sparing it a single glance as her fathers brought out and escorted through the crowd. The mob screams words of malice, waving their weapons, but Lord Stark’s eyes lock with his daughters. In the group, many faces blend, spitting insults. At the pull of guards, Eddard scans the crowd warily. His eyes land on Yoren, bumping into his chest. He yells, “Sorrows. Sorrows!”

The moments fleeting, and the air stale. Silence consumes the crowd as Eddard’s voice booms throughout the courtyard. The gruffness of his tone clear and paced. Despite his lies to appease the few, the public still grumbles with resentment.

“As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. He has confessed his sins before the Sept of Sorrows. He has given reverence to the resting place of a girl given to this world by the Gods. She is a reminder of the poison in treachery but also the failures of acting without mercy. What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?” Arya frowns. She cannot grasp why this occurs here and now. The Queen mother shifts uneasily as the young King grins like a madman. It’s all so wrong.

“My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night’s Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father. So I bring you all here today. A sad day for a very sad excuse for a man. In this place lies dead a woman who could not be protected by her husband nor her King! Today I mark a new beginning, a King who will protect those deserving, one where no treason shall ever go unpunished. Ser Illyn, bring me his head!” Joffrey’s words fill the ample space, following a roar of excitement like no other. The cries of Sansa and the pleas of Cersei falling on deaf ears as Arya’s eyes sweep the crowd in disbelief. Arya climbs off the statute navigating the crowd with quick feet, her tiny stature bobbing and weaving without pause. It becomes less dodging and more pushing as her throat and eyes burn ceaselessly. A hand wrapping around her wrists, jerking her back, forces a gasp from her lips. Arya squirms to no avail, her father getting further and further away as her vision blurs and refocuses.

“Let me go!” She screams, blocking her view from the front. He forces her head toward the statue. Her struggles do nothing against his rigid grip. The indiscernible chatter of the crowd and Sansa’s screams fill the air. It lasts for seconds before a swift silence sweeps the crowd, and everything stills. Arya grows as straight as a pencil. She stops fighting Yoren’s hold her stare shape. The lump in her throat nearly suffocates as everything numbs. A part of her wants to laugh at what captures her eyes, a sick irony—a cruel one. The blue sapphire gem sparkling and vibrant, unlike the bleak air that lingers.

Princess (Y/n) Targaryen Rivers

[vintrage]

can someone please get this girl her dog back

[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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[dumbkiri]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 2

𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗫 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘!𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

Part One

We arrive in Winterfell!

You woke up with a killer headache and covered in sticky sweat. All your efforts to calm your raging hard on yesterday painted your bedsheets and pillows. You groaned in disgust at the sight that greeted you and you felt bad for the maids that would clean up in here soon. You never knew you could release so much, but you blamed it on the fact you had a wine that urged you forth. 

You threw the sheet on your body off to the side and stood up to stretch your sore body. One glance at the ajar window told you that dawn had approached. You woke up at a good time to freshen up and get ready for the trip up North. 

The fire in the hearth died out as soon as you looked at it as if the entity in it disappeared. The crackle of the dying light barely noticeable, yet enough to get you moving. It sensed your decision to follow its unending order thus darkening your room a little bit more with its absence.

After cleaning yourself up, you dressed yourself in red and gold, the colors of your house before attaching your scabbard to your belt. The weight of your sword gave you comfort as you never left yourself unarmed in any given situation. You went as far as arming yourself with a dagger up the sleeve of your [dominant] hand. 

The letter by your bedside table captured your attention remembering the contents in it. Your father wrote to you about a potential marriage prospect. The idea of marriage wasn’t entirely new to you, especially if your future lady was going to be Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of the Stark Family. 

Marrying Sansa Stark wasn’t a matter of consequences or anything of the sort. Actually you fell for the girl, but she fell much harder for you. Spending time with the Stark family could do that to a boy who was new to his feelings. 

You spent many of your winters having fun in Winterfell while Jon and Robb spent their summers training with you at Casterly Rock. The time spent in Winterfell allowed you to get to know the entire Stark Family. You recalled the times Arya and Sansa would watch you and their brothers spar. 

Meanwhile, Robb and Jon were your childhood friends and you had many stories to tell your siblings about them when you returned home. Cersei never really cared for the Stark boys, but she listened to your enthusiasm. She was especially interested in the look you had in your eyes when you watched Sansa work on her newest embroidery project. 

Thus Cersei actually engaged in a conversation with you regarding your crush on the eldest Stark girl. You didn’t tell her much despite her pestering. You had this feeling that Cersei was up to something, the familiarity of her cunning eyes warned you from giving her any straight answer. 

You focused your gaze onto your door and walked out of your room, wanting to prepare your horse for a long journey to Winterfell. It has been a year since you visited the Stark Family, but you received an occasional letter from Robb and Jon. Many letters were actually exchanged between you and Sansa. 

She shared her newest creations with you and you sent her new material from all around the world for her to experiment with. You felt bad that you haven’t visited her in awhile, but the voice in the fire pushed you away. You grew tense when it told you to visit the north because you had no idea what awaited you there. 

So far you did your best to navigate away from the north. 

Now with company, you could do so without the lingering fear. This betrothal between you and Sansa has been put off for too long. You were wondering when Eddard Stark would demand your presence. You could hear him talking about honor already and you have yet to saddle your horse. 

“My Lord, a letter from Winterfell,” Your squire hastily walked up to you with his head bowed. He hands you a small bound scroll with the Stark sigil on it. You fear that you spoke too soon. 

He walked away giving you personal space to read the scroll. Breaking the seal, you carefully unraveled the parchment waiting for the demand to hit you like a horse’s kick. 

[Name], 

When can we expect you to arrive in Winterfell? It’s been a long time since the North has been graced by your oh so warmth. Seriously, my mother has been chewing off my head as much as Sansa has asking about your whereabouts. If you don’t arrive in Winterfell soon, they might just send my father to come fetch you.

And no, they do not know you’re at King’s Landing like I do. I expect you will tell them soon? 

Robb

You smiled at the sarcasm painting the parchment, but frowned at the threat of Ned coming to get you. You wouldn’t want the Lord of Winterfell to waste resources traveling to Casterly Rock when you were stationed at King’s Landing. 

You knew the King was best friends with Ned and he must have received word that the King would be making his way up North. This means that Ned wouldn’t be traveling to Casterly Rock when he has to greet the King in Winterfell. Especially after the King’s most recent Hand has passed away…unexpectedly. You had your suspicions on what Jon Arryn got to and who ended him, but kept to yourself like you’ve always done. 

 After all, it was your family that was involved in it. 

You pocketed the letter in your bag settled on the side of your black mare with a pat. Then you watched the Royal Family walk into their respectful carriages. Surprisingly the King made his way over to you with a small frown on his face. 

Cersei looked over her shoulder to see her husband make his way to you. Her eyes are asking you for an answer as to why you garnered attention from her husband. Only to get no answer from your mismatched eyes. She urged her children into the carriage then followed after them with regal authority reminding you exactly who was in charge. If it’s an answer she wants, she’ll get it one way or another. 

“Why haven’t you married Sansa yet?” The King questioned with a heavy huff, he towered over you in strength and size, but you were still a growing boy. You had two more years to reach his height being six and a half feet tall. You stood at a proud 6 foot at the age of 16, already taller than his first born son; Joffrey. And more toned as you're trained for the days you would command an army. 

Patiently, you responded to him with utmost respect. Cersei may have some hatred for Robert, but you held no ill will to the man that brought the Targaryens down. Robert was a legendary figure on the battlefield, you admire his strength. 

You bowed your head and said, “My father is in the process of handling the wedding as we speak. While waiting patiently for his word, I have been communicating with my lady easing her worry. I apologize if our timeline does not fit with yours, your grace.” 

Robert scoffed and gestured around him, “Just have the wedding here, boy. I’ll let your father know of my plans and I will finally have the Starks off my ass about this “long awaited” wedding.” 

“Your grace that is very kind of you, but-” 

“Not another word,” Robert threatened then lowly said, “I respect you for your strength and how you hold yourself up. Unlike Joffrey, you don’t have your guards punish someone. You do it yourself and fight like a man.  So don’t tarnish your reputation with me by rejecting my offer. You and Sansa will marry under my roof and that’s final.” 

You bowed your head and said, “Thank you, your grace. We will be honored to have our wedding here.” 

You watched him walk away with approval of your submissive nature. Not that you wanted to back down in the first place. You wanted the wedding to be small and with the two families that will join together soon. 

“You hear that, Rain?” With ease you mounted your horse and combed your fingers through the mane, “The wedding is going to be here.”

Rain huffed and threw his head back as a response. What did that mean? 

It could mean a number of things and you’d like to think Rain hated the idea of the wedding being held here too. 

…

“Really, he said that?” Jaime chuckled seeing the displeased look on your face. His golden horse and your black mare neighed at one another while you two conversed in the outskirts of the camp. The two animals watching some soldiers wake up from the groggy sleep at the crack of dawn. 

You never confided with your other siblings about your marriage with Sansa, but for some reason you spoke to Jaime about it. He knew all about the duties of marrying someone. After all they shared a father that drilled into their head the importance of passing down a legacy. A legacy Tywin stopped forcing down Jaime’s throat and instead focused on the new lion that came along. 

You also shared the details of the wedding between you and Sansa in King’s Landing with your oldest brother because he didn’t think very highly of the King. He didn’t have great opinions about the King in general, so hearing his thoughts on your wedding would make you feel better. At least someone would be honest with you. 

“Yes, I believe if I married Sansa a lot earlier than maybe I could have avoided all of this. Now my wedding will be a spectacle for the people of the court and let’s not forget about the bedding ceremony. I don’t think I can do it. She’s only 13 and I heard she hasn’t flowered.” 

Which was a good thing to you. You can’t think to bed Sansa at such a young age although many couples have done so before. Even Targaryens weren’t against the idea of marrying between their inner circle. The bedding ceremony was tradition, a tradition you cannot partake in. 

Jaime hummed and loosened the hold on his reins, “Maybe you don’t have to, I mean if she hasn’t bled yet. Although people will question whether the marriage has been consummated and we’ll just have to take your word.” 

He gave you a wink knowing that this would bother you even more. 

You rolled your eyes and swiftly said, “When she does flower, I will take my time with her. Sansa is a very gentle girl and I have no intentions in ruining her. She will be my lady and I will show her respect.” 

“Sometimes women like to be-”

“We’re children, Jaime,” You bit before he could chew some more, “Intimacy should be discussed between the man and the woman, we have yet to become that. I will take my time with her and not tarnish a girl of becoming a lady.” 

Jaime surrendered with a heavy sigh, but not completely. The oldest Lannister brother wanted to tease a bit more,  “I’m surprised you kept your chastity for so long, you must have a desire to bed Sansa as soon as possible. You are a boy growing into a man soon.”

You felt compelled to slap the back of Jaime’s head with your hand. To watch that shit eating grin on his face turn into a surprised look would make your day. But you could not do it because you felt a hungry stare on your body. Like someone was feasting on your oblivious state of mind.

Jaime watched you look around the settlement with a guarded gaze and your black mare neighing at the discomfort from your unease. He settled his hand on his pommel just in time for you to snap at him, “Ambush!” 

As soon as the word left your mouth, a loose tip of an arrow grazed the bridge of your nose and cheek. It snapped into the tree next to you and you pulled your horse into a sprint. Going into the opposite direction of Jaime, you heard him shout, alarming the rest of the soldiers of the impending attack. 

You could feel the blood run down your face and you pulled your sword out from its sheath. A man dressed in rags ran out from the bushes with a rusted dagger high into the air. He aimed for your horse’s neck and you were quick to swing your sword. His attacking arm came clean off with a cry of agony leaving his mouth. 

The man fell to the floor clutching his wounded arm to his chest and you turned around to finish the job. Your horse ran at him and you struck him with a fatal blow, ending his miserable life. 

“I have gold! Plenty of gold for you to have!” 

“Then hand it over, dwarf!” 

You heard a commotion going on in front of you just a few feet away. In the dim light nature provided you, you saw Tyrion in his night clothes throw a bag of gold on the floor. His attacker picked it up with haste and sliced the air with his dagger, “I know you have more! You’re a Lannister and…”

You drowned his voice out and slid the dagger from your sleeve into your hand. Your breathing slowed into a calm rhythm and you held the blade between your fingertips. Raising your arm up, you flicked downward and watched the dagger cut through the air as fast as lightning. 

Tyrion raised his hands in surrender and said, “Of course, I can get you more! I just need-” 

SQUELCH!

Tyrion flinched as the stream of blood flew out of the robber’s head, a dagger with a gold hilt deeply wedged inside the body part. He looked to the left to see you on top of your horse hidden in the shadows of the trees. You looked like some type of demon with the darkness covering your barely noticeable form. 

“Tyr, you okay?” 

Your horse trotted up to him and you dismounted with ease. Tyrion noted that you didn’t have to kneel down to check if he had injuries like he was some child. But you were a giant compared to him and the dead body at your horse’s hooves. 

“He almost had you there.”

When Tyrion’s initial shock washed away, he saw the blood cover the right side of your face. It started below your eye and reached the bridge of your nose. He wanted to ask if you were alright, but you beat him to it, “Just an arrow.” 

You stood up from the dirt and wiped your bloody face. Then you looked down at him, “This is going to scar, isn’t it?” 

Tyrion nodded his head, “Yes, but the ladies will still swoon over you.” 

You scoffed and just as the morning light touched the earth, you witnessed the knights have captured and slained the bandits that threatened the Royal Family. Word reached the North fast about the King visiting Winterfell, which must have made hungry bandits dumb enough to try and rob the carriages. 

“Seems like everyone is still alive and doing well.” Tyrion picked up his bag of gold from the grubby hands of the dead man, “Except you, go get that wound stitched up or something. It could get infected.” 

You put your sword away and pressed your foot on the dead man’s head. Leaning over you pulled your dagger from his head and wiped the blood on your pant leg twice to clean it. “Aren’t you going to thank me first? I saved you from a gruesome death.” 

You weren’t into praise, but for some reason today felt like you deserved one. Probably because you almost died. Luckily for you, the arrow missed its mark. 

Tyrion watched you and shrugged his shoulders, “Would you like me to relish the idea of being alive or that man dying at your deadly dagger?” 

Your attention brought Tyrion’s eyes away from the dead man and to you standing over it like a lion over its deceased prey. But something else radiated off your body, the sneaking feeling crawling up his spine when your eyes glared at him. You slid the dagger back up your arm and he tilted his head at the secret you kept up your sleeve. 

“Why not both? They could be stated together,” Your wound didn’t stop bleeding and you paid no mind to the taste of iron in your mouth as you spoke, “‘Thank you [Name] because you killed that man, you saved my life and I am grateful’. Not that difficult to say.” 

“He was only robbing us because he’s obviously poor,” Tyrion argued back. 

You rolled your eyes and countered back, “He would have killed you the moment you gave him more gold. Men like him don’t care for the lives of the rich. One day you’ll encounter a man who will kill you because someone paid him.” 

“Then I’ll offer him more than what the person offered to spare my life.” 

“You aren’t getting the point which is fine, it’s your life to live and die for,” You grabbed the reins and led your horse to one of the traveling maesters' carriage to stitch up your wound. To the side, you watched Jaime comfort Cersei with his hands on her face. You stopped in your path and barely heard him whisper sweet nothings in her ear. 

“Ned Stark would be a fool to accept the King’s proposal,” You told your horse quietly, “A wolf doesn’t make a home in the lion’s den.” Your horse nudged his head into your chest reminding you that soon a wolf will make a home in the lion’s den, your home. 

“Ah, of course, my lady is a different case.” You smiled despite the pain it brought to your new wound.

…

The arrival in Winterfell is a stark contrast to the arrival in King’s Landing. The air was cooler and it didn’t smell like piss or shit. You always loved the area Winterfell was surrounded by. You found peace in the north more than you did in the south. But Casterly Rock will always be your home and you couldn’t wait to expand it with Sansa as your wife. 

As Lord of Casterly Rock, you will protect your family with the Lannister army and the gold belonging to your family. Your father helped you with most of it, but when he is gone you will rely on his teachings. 

And change the way he taught you. You wouldn’t beat knowledge into your children. You knew the pain and you promised yourself that no child of yours would go through that too. 

When you dismounted your horse and heard the Royal Family being announced to the King, you felt a body tackle your legs in a tight hug. Looking down at the small child, you laughed at the excitement on the little girl’s face looking up at you. 

“Arya!” You looked around the courtyard at the soldiers moving around then back to her, “you little daredevil! You’re supposed to be meeting the King and his family. Your mother is going to kill you and me when she finds out you snuck around to greet me first.” 

Arya smirked and released your leg with her hands behind her back, “I just wanted to make Sansa jealous! She can’t wait to see you, but I saw you first! Are you really marrying my sister? She’s not someone I’d choose. Also where did you get that new cut?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at her joke. Then you grabbed her gloved hand in yours, leading the girl back to her family, “Yes, I am and I like to think she’s the only lady for me. When we do marry, you can train with me at Casterly Rock. I can teach you all my cool moves. As for this cut, we fought some bandits on the way here. One guy was quick enough to nick me, two others weren't so lucky to live.” 

“You said that the last time and it’s been forever since you last visited us. You were supposed to marry Sansa awhile ago already,” Arya yanked your arm as a punishment and you sighed. She completely dismissed the bandit story telling you she hopes to hear more during dinner.

“I would like to apologize for taking forever, I just needed to prepare my home to become Sansa’s home. She’s going to miss the north and most of all, her family. You do realize I’m taking your sister away right?” 

“Good riddance,” Arya huffed out and you shook your head at her reaction. You had the privilege of having one sister, you couldn’t imagine two that would fight with one another every day. You remember these two, Arya and Sansa, bickering back and forth while the boys just spar with one another. 

“Has your father ever let you and Sansa battle it out with one another?” You asked with a mischievous look on your face. Not that you wanted Sansa to endure the wrath from Arya, but it’ll be good for the girls to let out some pent up anger. “It’ll be good for the two of you to fight with nothing holding you back. No mannerisms or familial relations to tie you down.” 

Arya’s eyes lit up in excitement and she gripped your hand tighter, “What a great idea! I’ll propose it to father when-” 

Your bout of laughter cut her off and you two rounded around the royal carriage with it dying down. King Robert, his family and the Starks were all looking at you with a lone wolf in your grasp. 

“It seems like one of your wolves left the pack a little too early, Lord Stark,” You playfully pushed Arya towards her family with a charming smile that killed the ladies. The little girl blushed at your soft expression and ran towards her mother’s arms. 

“Lord Lannister, finally upholding your honor to marry my daughter?” Ned’s voice cut like ice and you knew you weren’t going to be easily accepted for putting the wedding off for as long as you did. 

“I look forward to making Sansa my wife, Lord Stark,” You stepped up and respectfully bowed your head to the King who acknowledged you with respect, “I would like to make an announcement if you don’t mind?” 

Ned nodded his head and Catelyn looked at you with anticipation. You looked at the parents of your fiance and smiled, “Our wedding should be held in King’s Landing with King Robert’s blessing. He is most excited about our union and he offered to handle everything including costs, but of course I will handle some of it as well.” 

“This is true?” Ned looked at his old friend and Robert nodded his head with a smile. 

“When you keep prattling about this boy and your daughter, I had to force his hand. No one can reject a King’s offer though he did try.” 

Robert patted your shoulder with a huff and smile. Meanwhile you ignored the look from Cersei. You could feel the lioness’ jealousy. 

“Wow, how did you land a royal wedding before any of us?” A new voice spoke up and a big hand landed on your shoulder. Red hair entered your line of vision and your best friend gave you a grin along with a welcoming hug, “Welcome back, little lion, did my letter reach you?” 

You hugged Robb back and chuckled, “Just in time, I was worried your father was going to hunt me down. Perhaps Lady Stark would join him.” 

You heard Catelyn scoff from the side as her hand brushed your back, her voice held with content, “You are a kind boy, don’t ruin your image by breaking my daughter’s heart or I will come after you. Although it seems like someone else ruined your perfectly handsome face. The King has told us about the lot of you running into bandits.” 

Robb released you so you could give Catelyn a formal greeting. You picked up her hand that touched you and kissed the top of her glove, promising her, “Sansa will be protected and satisfied, Lady Stark. I will love her for all my days. And yes, the bandits were handled swiftly, no one can defeat the Kingsguard.”  

Catelyn huffed with her small smile and Robb stepped in saying, “Don’t speak your vows to my mother, Sansa looks to be jealous already.” 

You chuckled and straightened out your back to greet Sansa. Her blue eyes were settled onto you from the moment she saw Arya’s hand in yours. Your house colors always fascinated her and you looked so handsome standing there greeting her family like an old friend. Which you were, but to her, you have always been the boy she grew up to have a crush on. 

She would even dare say that the newly stitched wound on your face fit you. A man strong enough to face death and conquer it. 

To her, you were the man she wanted to marry. You were becoming a man her father will become great allies with in the future, a best friend to her older brother, and another big brother to her younger siblings. 

“My lady?” 

Your voice brought her from her trance and her eyes focused on your worried form. You didn’t step any closer towards her direction afraid that she was giving you the silent treatment. All eyes were on her and Sansa took one step forward then threw herself into your arms. 

“Damn I owe Jon some coins.” 

You heard Robb mutter to you with a teasing tone while Sansa swatted him away from the cute reunion she was trying to have with you. Before you could question Robb by what he meant, Sansa pulled away with a blush, “They made a bet whether or not I would forgive you.”

You laughed at the Stark siblings and embraced her back, with as much love for her as she did you, maybe even more so. You missed the way she smelled, she reminded you of the godswood and winter in general. 

She cools you down. Sometimes you have your bouts of disagreements. But she was your winter breeze in your afternoon sun. 

“Uncle, please introduce me to your lovely lady and her family. You did interrupt our introductions.”

Joffrey’s voice caught your attention away from Sansa and you pulled away from her gently. Allowing her to hold your arm with hers as you nodded your head, “Of course, Sansa this is Prince Joffrey and I’m sure her family can introduce themselves to you. I still need to unpack my things, I’m afraid the lone wolf stopped me from doing so with a tackle.”

From a distance, you heard Arya laugh from behind her mother’s cloak of deep blue and gray. You looked down to see the young Stark girl stick her tongue at you to which Catelyn swiped at her face with a disapproving gaze. 

You chuckled at the girl and looked back at Robert asking for dismissal and he nodded his head, “Aye, go on. Ned, let’s have a word whilst we visit your sister.”

Sansa regrettably released you from her hold and you gave her a warm smile, “I won’t be gone long. I will be back before you know it.” 

“Of course,” She whispered and focused on the other royal family, your family. Sansa would do anything to appease your sister to make sure you knew she did her best to get along with them. 

Yet you never warned her to stray away from Cersei. And it was too late as the Queen had a plan in motion. To diminish Sansa’s character and get you to focus on herself. After all, Cersei could not lose a Lion to a Wolf. 

[axelsagewrites]

Sansa Stark*What's This

Pairing: Modern!Sansa x gn!reader

Kinktober Day fourteen: sex toys and teasing with Sansa Stark – after finding a sleek pink vibrator in her top drawer you decide to see what it can really do

Word count: 1190

Warnings: sex toys, sansa being insecure at first, using it on her (not sure what kink that’s called), making out, insinuated sex, teasing, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Her parents were out, scary movies were loaded on the laptop, and food was on the way. You couldn’t ask for a better date night with your girl. You were sat on the bed, Sansa curled into your side when your phone buzzed. “The drivers pulling up,” you told her, frowning when you saw your battery was at 4%, “Do you have a charger?”

“In my drawers,” Sansa said, jumping off the bed as she grabbed some cash off her bedside table, “Two minutes babe,” she said, leaning down to press a quick peck to your lips.

You laughed a little at her antics as she excitedly ran away for the food before turning your attention to her bedside drawer. When you opened it however you were met with only lacy and frilly underwear, something you were not going to complain about, but no charger. Figuring it must’ve been pushed underneath by accident you reached in, rifling around the door before your hand landed on something hard.

Your face turned in confusion as you fished it out, wondering what kind of charger was so smooth, however when you were met face to face with the bright pink vibe in your hand all you could do was let out a short laugh.

“Hey babe sorry I left my charger downstairs,” Sansa called as she headed into the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of you, “I can explain,” she stammered, quickly setting the pizza to the side and rushing to the bed.

When she reached for the vibe, you however snatched it back, “And what do we have here?” you teased, loving the way her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

She sighed as she flung herself on the bed beside you, “Omg this is so embarrassing,”

Concern washed over you as you dropped the vibe, now turning to comfort your girlfriend whose face was buried in the pillow, “Hey what’s the matter baby?” you asked, stroking her back, “I was just teasing I’m sorry,”

Sansa sighed into the pillow before finally lifting her head up, “Please don’t think I’m some kind of sex weirdo,” she begged and you couldn’t help the small laugh you let out, “Hey!” she protested, shoving your shoulder, “Its embarrassing alright,”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed baby,” you cooed, moving to sit up and forcing her to curl into your side like before, “Everyone does it and besides,” you said, stroking her hair as she let out a sigh of relief, “it’s kinda hot,”

Sansa froze for a moment before looking up at you, “Yeah?” she asked, and you leaned down to press a short kiss to her strawberry lips.

“Very,” you assured her, stroking your fingers over her cheek bones, “Bet you look so fucking hot when you use it,”

“Yeah?” Sansa repeated again, confidence growing in her voice as she leaned up to meet your lips. Your hand moved to cup her jaw, your free hand to her waist as your lips danced.

Sansa moved to straddle your lap and although confused you were not complaining as her hands dove into your hair, tugging lightly at the scalp making you groan into the kiss, “Maybe we should test it out,” you murmured against her lips. Sansa paused for a moment, her eyes flickering to where the pink vibe lay discarded on the other side of the bed, “We don’t have to,” you assured her.

“I want to,” Sansa cut you off, reaching for the vibe and shoving it into your hands. You tossed it over your palm, getting a feel for the smooth silicone however you were brought back when you felt Sansa move back and when you looked up you saw her tossing her top across the room.

“Now this is a date night,” you teased, your own hands reaching for your own top which Sansa was more than happy to remove as she crashed her lips onto yours.

At first you had sunk into the kiss, enjoying the way she moaned lightly at the feeling of your tongue massaging her bottom lip. She shivered as your hands ran up her sides, squeezing her tits lightly over her thin pink bra. “So, fucking hot,” you mumbled against her lips.

Sansa giggled, her lips moving away to kiss wet kisses down your jaw and neck. All while your hand reached for the vibe, holding down the button till you felt it buzzing in your hand. Sansa stiffened slightly when she heard the noise but made no attempts to stop you.

You were thankful for the skirt she’d chose to wear, not just because it made her hips look so grabbable but also because you were able to slip the vibe between her thighs, pressing it lightly to her clothed clit. Sansa jerked slightly, her kisses faltering as you ran the vibe up and down her clothed pussy.

Low moans fell from her lips as you circled its tip around her bundle of nerves. Her hands, still in your hair, tightened their grip making you groan. With your spare hand you grabbed her jaw and brought her lips back down to yours to mask her soft moans.

Sansa’s hips bucked, desperate for more friction. You moved your hand from her jaw to her hip, grabbing it and encouraging her to grind against the vibe. Her whines and whimpers increased as you did your best to contain yourself and not flip her on her back to fuck her right now.

Instead, you did your best to go teasingly slow till you heard a light murmur from her lips, “Please,” she whined against your lips, “Feels so good,” she mumbled.

“Aww baby girl,” you cooed, stroking her hair with your freehand, “I’ve only just started,” you teased your finger clicking the button again.

Sansa jerked at the new speed, her moans louder than before. they only grew louder when you pushed her panties to the side, slipping the vibe under and against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Curses and begs fell from her lips as she tugged on your hair and begged you not to stop. She continued to grind down onto the vibe, her movements becoming sloppier and sloppier.

“Such a good girl,” you praised, kissing her lips and making her whine, “so good for me,”

“Think I’m gonna-“she gasped, and you could see how badly she was trying to keep it in.

“You gonna cum?” you asked, mocked concern etched on your face as she let out a breathy yes, “Then do it baby. Cum for me yeah?” your words were all it took to tip her over the edge.

Sansa let out a loud moan, her hands tightening in your hair so tightly you winced as she rode out her orgasm on the vibe. When you felt her slow down you pulled it away, switching it off as she collapsed into a heap in your arms. “You okay baby?” you asked, stroking her back as you kissed the top of her hair.

“Fuck yeah,” she panted out, sitting up as she started to catch her breath, “Now it’s your turn baby,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

[poisonsage808]

♡ Happy Heart Day ♡

Starks Edition

♡ Jon Snow ♡

He hasn’t ever celebrated this holiday. A part of him wants to and the other part is just so defeated, he wouldn’t know where to start anyways. When you surprise him with a handmade card and a chocolate fudge wrapped in pinkish wax paper, he blushes and stutters!

“A-Are you sure?” He asks, looking around like you’ve somehow mistaken him for someone else.

You smile patiently, urging for him to take the gift a second time, “Quite.”

Jon leaves for a bit after that, returning with a rabbit to make you a dinner to share in his chambers. You two sit close on the floor by the fire and with one heavy blanket draped over your laps. Sipping not the best ale (the Night’s Watch may never fix whatever recipe they have) eating rabbit stew and finally he shares the fudge you gifted him.

“I wish I could… make this better somehow.” He admits softly, partially guilty but mostly content.

“Don’t be daft, this is perfect.” You reassure him, nudging his shoulder.

Jon looks down at where your hand found his. He squeezes your hand tighter and his lip quirks up and suddenly its a much more perfect day.

♡ Sansa Stark ♡

This holiday belongs to her. She owns it, dominates it and if anyone thinks otherwise they’ll be proven wrong every year on the dot. It’s her absolute favorite.

From the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep, Sansa is lovingly doting on you. She presents you a new shirt with your house sigil detailedly embroidered onto the sleeves as well as a direwolf over the heart. Such a public claim, the holder of the queen’s heart.

Sansa’s pretty blue eyes go wide when she sees the romantic display you’ve made of her chambers. Candles, rose petals, her favorite meal and, “the sweetest wine for the sweetest lady in the world.” She blushes and giggles, rare to see for anyone other than you.

After dinner you nervously set a tray of lemon cakes in front of her.

“Did you make these?” She asks, delightedly bewildered.

“I attempted. I’ll not—“

Sansa stuffs one into your mouth before taking a bite herself, laughing at the powdered sugar dusting the corner of your lip and cheek. Overnight she clears the tray and her kisses become sickeningly sweet, each one longer and tastier than the last.

♡ Arya Stark ♡

She hates today but she’s silent about it, not dramatic like when she was a child clutching her stomach and faking gags at her parents smooches. Arya’s thoughts on the holiday don’t change with you, why’s only a single day set to appreciate one’s partner when they should do it every day?

Still, she’s sentimental. She marks a map with all the places the two of you have been together and a little note of her favorite memory of that place. Then in a slightly brighter shade of ink she marks places she wants to take you one day.

Arya doesn’t expect anything in return, after all she’s complained about today for so long. So her face is rather priceless when you draw your sword with a smirk. What could be better gift for the adventurer? She hasn’t sparred for fun in… she can’t remember the last time she did!

She beats you, of course, not even her beloved is allowed a single pity-win. You’re both sweaty and panting for air with smiles on your faces when it’s over. Arya pulls you by your cheeks into a breathtaking kiss.

“Thank you,” You whisper when you part, “for being my adventure.”

“That’s awful.” But she laughs, her smile growing wider.

Know that your hers too.

[wraithwen]

northern birds

[fandomnerd9602]

Could you do a sansa stark x male assassin reader?

Y/N lands behind Sansa…

Sansa: you here for me?

Y/N: maybe

Sansa: you gonna stab me with your knife?

Y/N: I’d call it a dagger

Sansa: mmm it’s more of a broadsword

Sansa gently removes Y/N’s hood and kisses them…

She reaches for Y/N’s belt…

Sansa: welcome home love. Now show me your broadsword

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ all my life. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

jon snow x f!arryn!reader headcanons

╰┈➤ in which lady catelyn's niece is brought to winterfell as a ward, and grows to care for her misliked stepson.

a/n : I put jon's birth year as 283 ac, whereas in the show he was born in 281ac - so I struggled a bit on which to choose, but ultimately 283ac suited my outline for the story a bit better. the characters are still aged up as per their show versions. I've also aged down robin arryn, implying that both jon and reader would be in their adolescence during his birth, whereas in the source material, jon is only a few years older than robin.

massive, massive shoutout to @angelseraphines for being my greatest support as always, and I'm not sure if I would've gone ahead and published this if not for her encouragement 🩷

╰┈➤ in 285ac, lord jon arryn and his lady wife lysa welcomed the first of their living children.

╰┈➤ you were a beautiful babe, bright-eyed with a lovely smile, truly the apple of the hand's eye. lord arryn had been married three times in his lifetime, and you were the first of his children to live to term. the graying man was enamored with your newborn-self, and he wished for nothing but your safety and joy.

╰┈➤ for all his love for you, the hand of the king knew how venomous the environment of the royal court to be. the halls were dripping with the schemes of those who wished to advance their positions, and a man of his position knew that the only living child, let alone a girl, of his would be treated as no more than a tool of the court's most cunning.

╰┈➤ your father wished to see you happy and contented, and he wished to keep you safe from the treachery of red keep. and so, on the eve of your sixth nameday, your father wrote to the boy he once fostered in the vale, now a lord paramount in his own right. eddard stark was possibly the only man jon arryn trusted to the same extent he trusted his grace, the king. it was a difficult decision to make, but he was acting in your best interests. life at winterfell would suit his little falcon better, for you would grow strong and you'd be well-looked after. you'd be far away from the glances of power-hungry, lecherous men who wished for nothing but power. you would be with family as well, as the lady catelyn was your mother's only sister - and her children your closest blood. it was a great honour in westeros, to be trusted with the upbringing of one's child, and it was an honour lord arryn would bestow upon lord stark.

╰┈➤ lysa was resistant to the idea of sending away her only living child - the years of losing babe after babe had taken their toll on her, but she eventually relented. you would be safer in winterfell, and catelyn was still her sister - for all the distance between them.

╰┈➤ mere days after lord stark accepted your father's offer, you were sent to winterfell as a ward with a kiss on the forehead from your mother and an unusually tight hug from your father.

╰┈➤ the first couple of weeks were rough - for you were often coddled by your parents. you missed tugging on your mother's skirts and resting in your father's arms. you weren't used to the absence of them, and while you tried not to cause trouble for your caretakers - they could tell you had a hard time adjusting.

╰┈➤ there were two people in winterfell whose presence brought you comfort during that trying time. the first was your aunt, lady catelyn stark, your mother's only sister. you knew little else of winterfell, but you were comforted by the familiar shade of auburn that cascaded down her shoulders and the unique cadence to her voice that could only be ascribed to a woman born of riverrun. she wasn't your mother, but she was the closest to her anyone could get. she sung you lullabies only your mother knew, and the gentle manner in which she treated you was that of a mother towards her child. the second was the boy named after your father, jon snow. you latched onto him early on in your stay in winterfell, and nobody was quite sure as to why. perhaps it was for his name, for you often called for him - at first you were calling for your father, but jon always answered. he was two years your senior and still a boy unsure of his place in his own home - for all the love of his father and the acceptance of his siblings was matched evenly with pointed looks and whispers of bastardy, as well as lady catelyn's cold distance and her decision to ignore his existence the best he could. some would say that it was your insistence on seeking him out that helped reassure the dark-haired boy of his place. of all the nobles and commonfolk at winterfell, you gravitated towards him.

╰┈➤ at first you were content to spend your time with him in silence, and he never appeared opposed to that. within a few weeks, you were talking to him about your life back in the crownlands. you talked about your mother, and her watchful, protecting eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. you talked about your father, and his insistence on making time for your regardless of how pertinent his responsibilities may have been at any given point. you talked about the king too, and his tales of the valour and glory he experienced side by side with jon's own father. he spoke to you too, of how lovely his father and siblings were, of winterfell's hidden gems and it's most well-known attractions. he promised to take you to the weirwood tree in the godswood when the opportunity arose, and he followed through on his promise. jon snow had become, aside for the lady catelyn whom you'd grown to love as you loved your mother, your dearest person.

╰┈➤ your aunt catelyn was not fond of your budding friendship with the reminder of her husband's indiscretion - that much was plain to see by the harsh manner in which her brows furrowed and frown of her lips, and yet she made no move to disallow it. she could see that his presence helped you get used to your new home, and soon enough you were playing with sansa, teaching arya and bran how to say your name and often fetching robb to speak with him on the way to break your fast. it pleased to see your aunt to see you and her own children bond so quickly, and she kept her dissatisfaction of your bond with jon to herself.

╰┈➤ jon was there for many of the major moments of your life, with the most notable being the first letter you'd written your parents. you had just started learning how to read in the red keep, but lord stark made sure to place you with septa mordane alongside his daughters and he kept an eye on you to make sure your education was advancing. not to mention, lord and lady stark were adamant in ensuring that you remained in touch with your parents - making sure you became literate was the most important factor in that. early on, you would ask jon to re-read your letters before you were to show them to lord stark, and your friend was always glad to do it. the faint red hue that enveloped his cheeks as he read the parts where you mentioned him to your father went unnoticed by you, too focused on making sure that your letter was presentable to lord eddard.

╰┈➤ you remained close through your childhood and closer into adolescence, but it wasn't until one fateful evening that somebody changed between the two of you.

╰┈➤ the letter you received from your parents was unlike any other you had received in the past. the words seemed to swirl on the yellowed paper, and you could feel a headache in coming. your mother had given birth to a son - a proper heir to the vale. you should have felt happy, overjoyed even. a part of you, unfortunately, felt overwhelmed by misery and you could not quite understand why. you were content in winterfell, loved even - and you knew you were never to be heir to begin with, for you were a daughter and your father had plenty of nephews to choose from. so, why did you feel so unhappy? you couldn't quite figure it out, at least not until you spoke to the one person who understood why you felt the way you did, even when you yourself could not.

╰┈➤ you'd skipped supper in favor of spending the evening by the godswood, and truthfully, you expected aunt catelyn to send robb to retrieve you when it was due time for you to return to your chambers. instead, you were surprised to see that jon came for you instead. as you rose from beneath the weirwood tree, red leaves giving way to a darkened sky, you walked side by side with jon towards the great keep. he spoke to you quietly then, of things you never dared ask and he never dared to say outloud. he spoke to you of the mystery of his mother, of wanting to know who she was and if she had wanted him, of wanting to know what kind of person she was. it was only then that the truth of your misery dawned on you. you wished to truly know your parents, and your brother - but you never truly could. for all the letters in the world cannot bring you the closeness of having your family near. robin would know your parents in the ways that you never would, and they would know him in ways that they never knew you. it was a bitter pill to swallow, but you felt as if you could breathe easier - with the realisation clear in your mind.

╰┈➤ you were grateful to jon as well, for his vulnerability with you and for his kindness. you thanked him for walking you back to your chambers, and left a chaste peck on his cheek before retreating. "I am grateful... for you, and all that you are" were the words you spoke to him. a silent acknowledgement hung in the air between the two of you. he was still your dearest friend, and you were his - but something had changed. the way in which you regarded one another had changed.

╰┈➤ it was as if the wall that you two had carefully placed between yourselves had found itself with holes in it. you were still careful, chaste even - but it was apparent to those around you that you two loved eachother. you'd make handkerchiefs for him in your embroidery classes and he'd gently hold onto your hand in the privacy of the godswood.

╰┈➤ none were truly aware of the extent of your affections for one-another, for you were both aware of your positions. you were a noble-man's daughter, entrusted in the care of jon's father who was meant to find you a suitable match and marry you off well. you were considered a bride for theon greyjoy or willas tyrell, but not jon. not a baseborn son of your noble caretaker, with no titles to his name and no inheritance to claim. furthermore, were you to rebel and marry jon without anyone's knowledge - you would soil not only the reputations of your fathers, but the goodwill and bond they shared, for lord arryn entrusted lord stark with your upbringing.

╰┈➤ you two grew closer over the following year, and it was apparent to both of you that you would not have the time to properly court one another before pursuing a way to convince your fathers to allow marriage. you were a woman grown, of marrying age. not to mention, you were lord arryn's only daughter, and a marriage to you was the most effective manner in which a noble house could strengthen its ties to the vale. lord and lady stark, with minor interference from your parents, were close to making their decision - and your aunt made sure to consult you often in subtle manners, asking whether you'd prefer to remain in winterfell when you marry, asking if you'd like to return to the red keep once you are to have a family of your own. you could not avoid your fates any longer.

╰┈➤ you pondered over what to do for a couple of days, but you knew you had no time to wait. without informing jon, you decided to plea your case to your aunt catelyn - the person you'd always felt closest to in winterfell, from the day you arrived to the present. you knew of her mislike for jon, there wasn't a singular person in winterfell who wasn't aware of it - and yet, during all these years, she hadn't said a word to you of your closeness. you asked for an audience with her in the evening, and you told her everything as you sat with your hands in hers atop the fur carpets by the roar of the fire. you confided in her about how precious jon had always been to you, of how you felt the evening of robin's birth and of how you had love for jon in a way a lady should only have love for her husband. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you spoke to her of how you feared a betrothal, as you didn't think you could bare being married to anyone else. she listened to you as you spoke. when you finished, she leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead and exited the room. you never got an answer from her.

╰┈➤ lady catelyn's heart ached from the weight of what she had to do. she resented jon, but she could never truly hate him as a person. she feared what his existence, and the way he looked, may mean for her own children but she could never begrudge you for befriending him. this, however, could be disastrous for all of you - and she needed to put a stop to it. she sought jon out the following morning, before it was time for the family to break their fast. she warned him of what his involvement with you could do to your reputation, and of how marrying him would cause you to lose all that you were born with. a woman has little choice in this world but to marry well, and your singular status as lord arryn's only daughter provided you with a privilege not many women could afford - a privilege you would lose were you to marry him. she urged him to put distance between the two of you, if he cared for you as you claimed he did. it was the first time she'd really acknowledged him, and her words stung - perhaps nearly as deep as her resentment and distance once did.

╰┈➤ you were unaware of the fact that this conversation had even taken place to begin with, and jon's insistence on ignoring you came as a shock. you couldn't tell what you had done wrong and you were unsure of how to reason with him.

╰┈➤ it wasn't easy for him to keep his distance from you either, but he took lady catelyn's words to heart. he truly believed that if he kept his distance from you, then you would have an easier time accepting a potential betrothal - as you were always meant to do. now that he was at a distance from you, he was free to confide in robb - and he found comfort in his brother. it was difficult, keeping his feelings from the man he trusted most to begin with and robb's brotherly teasing, as well as his unspoken understanding helped him cope with his decision. for a time at least.

╰┈➤ this tense situation and the distance between you was broken by the most tragic news of your life - your father and the hand of the king, lord jon arryn, had passed away. in addition to your grief, added pressure was placed upon your shoulders as the news of the royal family's impending visit to winterfell reached you. all of this proved to be too much for you, and you crumbled once again, for the first time since your arrival to the north. it was jon whom you turned to once again, and he couldn't find it in him to turn you down. he held you in his arms as you wept, and as you turned to look to him - you made the bold move you'd never dared to make. you leaned upwards and planted a kiss upon his lips, the salty taste of tears staining both of you. he gave in for a split second, before pulling away - remembering lady catelyn's words. "I intend to promise myself to the night's watch. I've already made my father aware of my decision" he confessed to you, his tone gentle yet final. it was then that you asked him why, your voice on the brink of shattering. he spoke to you of his conversation with lady catelyn, and of the steps he took to make sure your reputation wasn't soiled - of the steps he took to make sure you could still have a good life.

╰┈➤ you left him wordlessly then, anger coursing through every inch of your body. you were angry for a multitude of reason - at your father, for sending you to winterfell to begin with. at the world, for taking your father from you before you'd had the chance to see him once more. at your aunt catelyn and jon, for making decisions that concerned you without even thinking to consult you.

╰┈➤ you withdrew to yourself, simply going through the motions as you prepared for the king and his family to arrive at winterfell. you felt no joy at the prospect of seeing him once again, and the thought of his visit served as nothing more than a reminder that you were truly never going to see your father again. you were courteous but curt in all your exchanges, but you exchanged nothing more than pleasantries with all those around you. jon tried to speak with you often, to ensure that you two weren't going to go your separate ways on such poor terms - but he was unsuccessful. you had switched places, with you now ignoring his attempts to speak with you as he had done weeks before.

╰┈➤ the issues between you two and your pointed attempts to ignore him are once again put on hold with all the madness that follows the royal family's visit - bran's accident, your mother's letter to catelyn and the king's offer to lord stark all become topics much more pertinent than jon's upcoming departure and your potential betrothals, and the two of you settle into a peaceful coexistence within the last few days of his stay at winterfell. in truth, as you came to accept your father's death and the unfortunate fate that befell bran, you came to the conclusion that the short time you had with one another was a precious thing, not to be wasted - and you sought him out often, just as you once did.

╰┈➤ the morning he was set to leave for the night's watch, you rose early in the hour of the nightingale- and you sought him out. you walked to the godswood once more, your arm brushing against his. "I believe that I have loved you all my life. I believe that I will love you for the rest of it" you admitted to him as he reached out to grasp your hands in his, a sad smile making its way across your face. "I have loved you all my life, and I will love you for the rest of it" he vowed to you as he leaned down to press his final, gentle kiss upon your lips. you needn't have spoken words of forgiveness or talked much of anything else. you were overcome with a melancholic contentedness in that very moment. jon left his home with his uncle benjen within the next few hours, but he left his heart in winterfell with you.

╰┈➤ that very same evening, you wept in your aunt catelyn's arms. her kiss upon your forehead felt the same as your mother's on the day you last saw her - on the day you left your home behind.

a/n : and that's where I think I'm going to end this! if I ever feel like it, I may revisit jon and arryn!reader later down the line - perhaps with a quick rewrite of season and a happier ending than I gave them here. the original version of this fic is still in my drafts, but I legitimately hated the pacing and the dynamic between jon and reader felt rushed so I rewrote the whole thing - I'm still not fully happy with it, but I much prefer this version and I'm more comfortable publishing it. I hope you enjoy reading this, and please be sure to leave some constructive criticism as I do think there are some parts here that I think can be improved. please do forgive me if the pacing feels slightly off, I struggled quite a bit with this prompt and I legitimately could not write this fic a third time nor expand on it more to try and make it more sensible.

as always, I'm tagging several different characters to help get the post out to as many people as possible, but I do write for all of the characters tagged below so please feel free to request something for them.

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