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heartofmortis · 2 months ago

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Lionheart ✶ Chapter Three

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

word count: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

Taryn’s room was precisely how she remembered it. She had last been in Winterfell a moon before her eleventh name day, her trip cut short by her mother’s insistence that her daughter should come back home. Winterfell had enchanted Taryn since the first day she arrived. The castle felt far more homely to Taryn than the Red Keep or Casterly Rock did. But what Taryn truly held envy for was the Stark family. They were far more tight-knit and loyal to their blood than Taryn’s family had ever been. She held such love for her siblings, sweet Myrcella, little Tommen, even Joffrey — despite his wretched ways, he was still her little brother. Taryn knew her parents held no love for each other, she would have had to be blind or stupid to not see it. The only bonds Taryn possessed that could be akin to the familial bonds that were so strained and lacklustre in her own family, were the friendships she had with her ladies in waiting — four girls Taryn had known since girlhood, four girls Taryn trusted with her life.

When Robb left her to get settled, his presence was quickly replaced by Taryn’s ladies. Taryn had been surrounded by Erielle Lannister and Alyssa Baratheon, young cousins of her parents’ families, since her siblings had been born. Then came Lana Tyrell, a grandniece of Olenna Tyrell, and Jeyne Westerling, whose family were Lannister bannermen. They busied around her now, helping to unpack Taryn’s trunks. They were there to serve her, Taryn’s mother had drilled that into her, but Taryn valued her ladies far more than that.

There were still hours until the welcome feast by the time Erielle finished slipping pins into Taryn’s carefully made updo. Lana stood behind Taryn, tying the corset threads of her gold dress securely before sweeping furs over the Princess’s shoulders.

Alyssa took Taryn’s hands. “Let’s explore. It has been half of summer since we’ve last seen snow.”

Taryn grinned. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

The Princess felt ten years old again, chasing around the old stone castle. Last time she visited, her company was far smaller, but now every corridor in Winterfell was flooded with rushing servants and marching guards. It made the castle feel like a grey and colder mirror of the Red Keep, not the northern wonderland she remembered from being a child.

They found their way to the courtyard. Outside, under more eyes, Taryn tensed her shoulders. As far as she enjoyed being girlish and running about giggling, Gods forbid Taryn’s family — or worse, the Starks — saw her acting childish. She had already let her heart guide her the way North, but the time to play was passing. Taryn had been betrothed to Robb Stark since she was ten years old; she would be Lady of Winterfell one day. (It felt far more real now she was standing back in the castle’s wall. At home, in King’s Landing, she could almost forget her fate.) There was a time to be the girl Taryn longed to be, and there was time to be the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms — it was an easy balance to maintain, as long as Taryn remained focused.

Suddenly, Jeyne gave a shriek, the sound muffled by her hands covering her mouth. Taryn’s attention snapped to the girl — and where she was looking. Inside the kennels, where Winterfell’s hounds slept, were wolves. Seven darling pups of grey, brown, black and pure white.

“Those aren’t normal wolves,” Alyssa whispered. “But it must be impossible. Direwolves do not live south of the Wall.”

Taryn walked forwards, shaking off the clutches of her friends. In the last letters she and Robb had passed before Taryn and her family began their journey north, Robb had told her pages about the litter of direwolves the Starks had found in the woods. Taryn had not truly believed him until now. A smile rose to her face like the morning sun. The pups were days old when Robb sent his letter describing each of his siblings’ wolves, and soon they would grow bigger than any dog.

The pups played together while Lana tugged on Taryn’s sleeve and begged her not to get too close.

“I promise they won’t hurt you.”

Taryn and her ladies turned to see Robb approaching them. The afternoon sunlight made his red curls glow. By Taryn’s lead, the girls curtsied to the heir of Winterfell, and Robb bowed to the Princess. (It had taken two years of writing for Taryn to convince Robb to stop calling her “Your Grace” at the top of every letter.)

“Have you decided which wolf is who?” Robb asked, standing at Taryn’s side to watch the little wolves.

Taryn nodded. She pointed out Robb’s wolf first. Grey Wind, a smoky grey pup with bright golden eyes. “The others watch him. They follow him like little ones look to their eldest sibling.”

Grinning, Robb bent down on one knee and called Grey Wind to him. The wolf ran over eagerly but paused to consider Taryn. She lowered to be closer to Grey Wind’s height and reached out a hand, which the wolf sniffed at, before licking at Taryn and allowing her to stroke his head.

Taryn could not hide her own grin. “He’s beautiful. They all are.” Grey Wind seemed to understand her and nuzzled against her.

“Are you looking forward to the feast tonight?” Robb asked. Grey Wind ran back to his siblings and Robb took Taryn’s hand, helping her to her feet.

The Princess gave a shrug. “It will be nice to see your family again, properly. But I’ve never been so fond of feasts.” A red flush painted her cheeks. “I prefer quiet evenings.”

“Then perhaps I will find you later and free you. I’ll find a nicer way for us to spend the night.”

Taryn smiled at his kindness. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

Robb mirrored her smile. “I’ll see you later.”

The feast was as lively as Taryn had anticipated. It was not the noise and the food that she found wretched, or the company of her siblings, it was the rowdiness that came with alcohol. At the top of the hall, beneath the high table where Lord and Lady Stark hosted Taryn’s parents, Taryn sat with her three siblings and the Stark children. She made polite conversation with the eldest Stark daughters, Alys — who Taryn was glad to see again — and Sansa, who had been too young to join in their games last time Taryn had visited. It took three quick glasses of sweet wine to begin to dull Taryn’s senses enough to start to enjoy herself.

Hours passed and courses of food were devoured, little Tommen tugged on his eldest sister’s sleeve. Taryn looked down at her brother. “Are you alright?”

“Do we have to stay at the feast all night?” the little Prince asked.

Taryn shook her head. “Of course not. We can leave whenever you like.”

“Can we go now then?”

Taryn stood and picked Tommen up under his arms to lift him off the bench.

Myrcella had been sitting on Tommen’s other side. “Can I come too?” she asked, pushing her plate away.

Taryn smiled and reached out for her sister. “Always.”

Taryn kept a tight hold of her brother and sister’s hands as they weaved through Winterfell’s great hall. Past the singing bard, their father and his drunks, and the guards by the door. The cold night air made the Baratheon siblings’ cheeks turn red. Also outside they found Joffrey. Taryn had not seen him slip away from the feast.

“Joff, you should stay inside. You’ll catch your death out here,” Taryn warned. Myrcella and Tommen skipped on in the direction of their guest rooms.

Joffrey gave a bitter laugh. “Always the mother. Good thing you’ve had plenty of practice with those two before Robb Stark gives you your own wolf pack. Are you looking forward to it, sister? To be bedded by a wolf?”

Taryn wondered what could have gone wrong for her brother to turn out so rotten when Myrcella and Tommen had always been so sweet. Whatever it was, Taryn was happy to watch Joffrey saunter away from her. She wished she could wipe that smirk from his face. Gathering the fabric of her skirt in her hands, Taryn raised the hem of her dress off the ground and followed after her youngest siblings.

The three siblings settled in Taryn’s room. Myrcella and Tommen, in their nightclothes, nestled warm under the blankets of the bed, while Taryn sat the foot of the bed

“Tar,” Myrcella whispered. Her emerald eyes glitter in the glow of the smouldering fire Taryn had tried to light. “You won’t leave us forever will you?”

“I would never,” Taryn promised. “I will live here once I marry, but I will visit often. And one day, you two will also marry wonderful people and have your own castles.”

“Can you tell us a story, Taryn?” Tommen asked, tucked up to his chin in the warm furs. “You’re the best at stories.”

Taryn chuckled. “Then what story would you like to hear tonight?”

Robb found Taryn outside, bright as a midnight sun. He watched her walking back towards the great hall from the guest quarters. The clouds had opened to release a gentle fall of snow upon the castle. Robb found himself staring at Taryn again as snowflakes landed in her golden hair. Six years had not taken the wonder from her eyes as she grinned, twirling alone in the snow. Robb felt as though he was intruding. He turned to leave, to return to the feast and wait for her there, but gravel crunched heavily underfoot and Taryn found him.

The Princess blushed scarlet. Her figure straightened, ever regal. The glow in her brown eyes dissipated. Disappointment and guilt spread through Robb as ice froze a lake. “I’m sorry,” he spoke quickly to get ahead. “I should not have disturbed you–”

Taryn shook her head, brushing snow out of her tightly wound southern-styled hair. “No, I’m sorry. I was acting improper. It’s just–”

“–Been a long time? I know.” Robb came closer to her and offered Taryn his arm. “You don’t have to hide from me. We can dance in the snow all night if you want to.”

Taryn giggled and took Robb’s arm. “That would be far nicer than spending the rest of the night inside.”

Robb took them in the direction of the godswood, where he knew it would be quietest. “The men are going hunting tomorrow. Would you come with me?”

“Oh.” The pinkness returned to Taryn’s cheeks. “I cannot ride. I was never taught. My mother thought my skills should be better tuned elsewhere.”

“I could teach you.” Perhaps his tone was too eager. Taryn had not been here a day yet. They entered the woods, there were enough gaps in the dark clouds to allow moonlight to shine through and illuminate the trees.

The Princess smiled — the same smile she had given Grey Wind earlier in the afternoon, the same smile that came in the snowfall. “I would love that. It’s suffocating sometimes to be in the castle, unable to go where I like because I need a carriage to take me around.” She shuddered.

“I won’t keep you caged in,” Robb said. “You’ll be safe and free here at Winterfell. I promise.”

#robb stark x reader #robb stark #robb stark fic #robb stark x oc #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #asoiaf #fic: lionheart #oc: taryn baratheon

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