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rise-my-angel · 2 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

The Stag and the Young Wolf

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 14k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unethical medical practices, mention of disturbing imagery, past character deaths, talk of pregnancy, child death, mild smut

Notes: This is a rewrite of some deleted scenes back during Robb's era in the story, I had a lot of fun writing these two again so I hope you enjoy! Associated Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Harrenhal had been cursed since it’s first stone was laid. Or, that at least was what some spoke of it. More then enough rumours were spread of the ruined castle and it’s lands. No lord or family had ever been able to hold the great castle for more then a few generations before tragedy would befall them. And that went back right to it’s very start.

The castle greater then the very lands most lords held in their entirety, and yet most of it laid unused. Great walls which stood so high that some bridges between the high towers would kill a man without a doubt between falls. But only the lower two thirds were used. It was all that could be afforded by any. The higher the towers sat in the sky, the less usable they were even moreso with the bats adorning them. By now the centuries passed, stories spoke of men seeing masses of black within the halls like a dark figure following them, but when searched further were just bats in so many numbers they looked as one creature.

But it was not just bats making it unlivable. Each hall and corridor and room was surrounded by ruin and decay. Stones never rebuilt or restructured, water dripping from every corner exposed to the air as if the rain which would come could drown out the remaining rooms. The main hall in it’s peak had something near thirty five hearths to keep the castle warm, and now all that remained were fires in each rooms used when it still wouldn’t be much. It was clear why those who even held Harrenhal seldom chose to live within it’s walls.

Yet, the worst of it all was why. The strongest towers and the highest walls, a million men could have marched on the castle and a million men would’ve been repelled. But there was one thing it’s cruel yet brilliant creator Harren the Black did not account for. An attack from the air, a burning of dragonfire. It was said the day it was complete, did Aegon the Conquerer fly over the castle and let Balerion the Dread melt the stone walls within a few mere hours.

Some claimed that it was the burning from the dragon which left it cursed, but you thought there must have been more to it then that alone.

Right along the edges of the castle sat the Gods Eye. A vast lake that in and of itself held memories of death. A mighty battle between kin was fought above the waters, the strong yet terrifying Daemon Targaryean had done the unthinkable. In exchange for the life of he and his dragon, had slain the mighty Aemond the Kinslayer, and took the dragon Vhagar with him. The Valyrian Steel sword of Dark Sister had been found decades later in the waters still shoved deep into the kinslayers eye along with the bones of he and his dragon.

Yet still, that was not the strangest part. The Gods Eye itself was the largest lake in Westeros, but sat right in the middle was a small patch of land. A land with so little known about it, it had become as mysterious as the curses of Harrenhal itself. The Isle of Faces was the last known location outside of the North were Weirwood trees still stood beyond some single trees in a castle’s godswood, and even then so few existed still. Named for the faces carved into them much like ones you knew existed like the heart tree in the Winterfell Godswood. Harrenhal too had it’s own immense godswood and a heart tree, but it paled in comparison to what wonders sat across the lake.

Thousands of years ago, it was said the First Men had met with the Children of the Forest to agree to a peace after centuries of fighting. What agreement was made, none knew, as the First Men seemed to leave no trace of any scrolls, books, or written language behind. Some stories spoke that the Children had used the power there to break the Arm of Dorne, preventing any men to travel to their lands further. Creating what the realm knew now as the Stepstones. A useless patch of rock and rubble squabbled over by pirates these days. Were that true, few knew. Maesters said that storms had broken apart the land and nothing more.

Many had tried over the years to reach such a place, but to no avail. The closer one got to the isle, it was said flocks of ravens drove them off, or were forced away by sudden and powerful windstorms. Those who survived such attempts would sometimes say they saw figures that looked like green men at the shores, but fewer then none seemed to believe them. A mysterious land surrounded by bright blue water and black swans adorning the shores it was a place that sparked the imaginations of many.

Events haunted the memories of this place over the years and yet as you now walked through it’s halls you felt little of it matter. The oddities of Harrenhal tried to seep into your mind and yet you heard and felt none of it.

Olyvar Frey, Robb’s young squire the poor lad was trying so hard to serve you well. But each time it seemed he spoke to you alone it left him more weary then the last, always delivering news you’d rather not hear. This time, a raven scroll. You had enough news for the day.

Two rounds of news came first, word from Riverrun from Edmure Tully to Catelyn. Their father Lord Hoster Tully, a man ill for many years had finally passed. But the ravens carried more news. From the North. Roose Bolton’s bastard had reached Winterfell and found it abandoned, in ruin, and with no sign of Bran or Rickon. Only rumours of bodies of burned boys that some straggling locals claimed were the poor two themselves. With no word of Theons whereabouts, or any terms sent, it was not likely that Bran and Rickon were taken back to the Iron Islands as hostages.

The most likely scenario, is that those bodies of burned boys were them. No matter what yourself and Robb had tried telling Catelyn. Little could console her by now. Most of her children were gone. Her two youngest most likely dead, Arya was most likely dead, and Sansa was still in the hands of Joffery and the Queen. Only Robb remained to her, and now the world took her father too.

You hadn’t known what to say, or even how to feel. Your own mind was cluttered and clouded and there was little that could be said to make any of it right anyways, perhaps you didn’t know how to try.

Instead, you were sought out by Olyvar and handed a raven scroll of your own. In an instant something felt wrong. The sigil was nothing you’d expect. A black sail boat with an onion as it’s banner. Your eyes glanced up to the boy narrowed and on edge, him taking a moment to make his leave. “My Queen.”

Your eyes followed the entire path before looking around you. Men were everywhere, but it would take no time to find solace here. Tucking it away, your feet begun to carry you into the barley warmer indoors until you found an alcove tucked away, of which there were countless. Back pressed against the stone, ignoring the drips of water heard falling down towards your feet and the muffled voices all around you you pulled it back out.

Unfolding it’s contents, you too recognized the writing and your eyes jumped down to the end right away seeing the name etched at the bottom. Marya Seaworth still struggled to sign her name as such, her tendencies to only use her first with those she knew. But, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t writing to you as a lady, but a woman whom knew you well, and knew you needed to know.

It was not the first time members of House Seaworth had gone behind Stannis Baratheons back to send you word of what was happening. Allard did it first. Her and Ser Davos’s eldest son. He had been part of the household guard for the Baratheons of Dragonstone, and when you were very young only three or four, he was assigned personally to watch over you.

From girl to woman you had Allard commonly at your side, and some days he felt down south like your only companion that did not speak to you with ulterior motives. He would write to you at first, and it was him who told you of what your father was doing with the Lady Melisandre. The red woman he said the men had come to call her behind her back. That it was your mother she had convinced first, and none found out until he travelled back to Dragonstone with your father after Lord Arryn’s sudden passing.

But then Renly died, and you stopped hearing word. You didn’t question why, or you didn’t want to know, but this was the first you heard from any since then. Marya was a sweet woman, too sweet to be involved writing you such things. Too sweet to be feeling the heartbreak you now knew Catelyn was also feeling. A mother having lost a son.

Marya wrote to you about what happened in the battle. That Tyrion Lannister had set the Blackwater on fire. A sea of green fire and it, like the dragon fire against the walls of Harrenhal, had melted ships and burned the men in them, alive. And that amongst them, was Matthos Seaworth. Her and Davos second eldest son, and once a friend to you.

A few years older then yourself, he was a scribe for your father and had yearnings to be a knight. Allard spoke that he had bought into this red god without any doubt, and you chilled to think he died thinking fire was the way he was supposed to go. Marya spoke that there was no word that her husband was alive, but she knew men who would’ve told her and they had yet to report such grim news. She had hope Ser Davos was still out there, but where, only the gods knew. But Matthos was dead, no body to even bury, and way of knowing what state her husband was in.

The raven told more though, details Marya herself claimed she didn’t think she should be telling you, but she did anyways, you had never proven to be a traitor for simply standing by your own husband she said. If it came down to it, she’d choose hers over any King any day as well, and she wouldn’t treat you different. That’s how you put together what happened.

Reading over the words, you felt a twist in your gut, and one that didn’t belong to the babe you were still able to hide. Despite such a devastating loss, Stannis had pushed onto the Mud Gate at Kings Landing and nearly got in. That was, until the night was overpowered by the forces of Tywin Lannister, with the strength of the remaining Tyrell army at his back.

You knew Ser Loras, you knew him rather well and didn’t wish to feel ill of his choice or why he made it, but he had gone from Renly’s foolish side, to the side of the enemy all were fighting against. Together, Lannister and Tyrell had pushed back the Baratheons to the sea once more and victory was found for the Lions and the Roses wrapped around them.

Tywin now sat in Kings Landing as Hand of the King, his son set your fathers forces on fire and Matthos included. You felt your jaw tensing along with that feeling inside of you. Eyes dark as they tore themselves up from the raven to the stone on the ground as your hands tensed. Wanting to tear it the way Cersei had Robert’s last words in the Throne Room.

Instead, you steadied yourself. You were better then that, for now. Hiding it away once more, you inhaled deeply as your head turned side to side making sure no one was watching you. A hand running over your face trying to peel off the layer which showed how much was on your mind and truthfully, little was replaced with it. All the news, and this was the most relevant to the war you all fought and yet no one you could confide in felt right to go to.

Robb had more then enough on his shoulders then needing this right now, and the Blackfish had a brother to start grieving for on top of it. But you couldn’t hold it all in, someone needed to grasp what you were putting together. It would cause conflict, what your mind was asserting and it needed to be handled delicately so it did not come out in ill before Robb himself could handle this. Finding your feet, you begun moving through the halls, needing to quietly search out the only counsel you felt would truly listen and understand what you were implying.

Only, you did know one you could hear an answer from what may have occurred. Robb didn’t need to handle this, his grandfather, Bran, Rickon, you wouldn’t steal or force his focus from them, so you took that spot. Searching through what felt like the caverns each looking more grim then the last, as long as you were deeper within and couldn’t look up and see the broken skies you could have tricked yourself into thinking this looked not unlike Dragonstone.

The stone made of black, the vast grand nature of it as if meant to awe as much as it was to make a statement, and it was dour and grey and uninviting no matter where you went. And too, even without the statues and books and decor to remind you, Harrenhal was loomed over by the shadow of a dragon all the same. To what ends, you asked the gods keep that to themselves. You had seen the skulls, that was all of dragons you needed.

Walking down the steps, you nearly thought you may have had to bring a torch along with you the more into the depths you travelled to get to the destination how dark it got with how unkempt so many halls of this place were . Some of the men insisted he could be brought to you, but you rejected the thought. Something about this place made you feel as if you needed to wander. Still recovering from his wounds, you approached the strange man.

Found in the main court which you entered through days before, the men had found someone still alive. Not a soldier of any sorts, but what seemed to be a prisoner when the Lannisters had been capturing people around the Riverlands for information. None of which it seemed helped Tywin get any closer to Robb. How he was planning to beat him on the battlefield now you had no idea.

Being led to the area which the man, a strange sort of man by the name of Qyburn, was recovering, you glanced behind only to signify that you wished to speak to the man alone. “Your grace,” Moving to at least bow no doubt, you held a hand out. Gesturing him to remain seated, commenting there was no need when he should be resting. A chuckle came from him with a wince coming up from his chest. “I’m afraid it is long passed that, with a knife to the throat one becomes beyond comfort.”

Walking somewhat around the small area serving him as a room, you glanced down to his attire and the back up. Almost an expecting look in his eyes. He was a small man, looked on the weak side likely put up not a single fight but somehow survived. Those eyes though, a bit unnerving. As if they were always watching. “The robes, but no chain. I thought all Maesters wore something of a chain they earn.”

“I was one. Once, your grace.” Your brows narrowed, face twisting down into a confusion as he seemed unperturbed with explaining himself further. “I was stripped of my chain, and expelled from the citadel some time ago.” Your voice was short in asking why, but he seemed uncaring of your more stern nature. “They considered my experiments to be on the bold side, and they did not appreciate the findings which came with that.”

He was being purposely vague, which you did not quite appreciate. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a man being thrown out of the order before. They must have been quite the experiments to garner that reaction.” Why you even asked, was mostly for courtesy. He seemed a man more comfortable in his situation then most, and perhaps he would be more open with you if you asked open questions first. “Would that be a story you’re willing to share?”

The look was bright in his eyes, as if recollecting better times despite what would come from his mouth about them. “I would. Being thrown out was a regretful consequence, but I am not shamed of the learning I have found conducting them. I always found myself interested in disease. Curiosity always was my weakness. The need to learn all about it in order to treat it. And the only way to treat disease, is to understand disease. And the best way to understand disease, is to study the afflicted.”

“Study?”

Nodding, your face fell, the feeling in your gut growing more ill but this time with a new wave at the implication you both knew you had come too. “Men who were already dying, who would serve the realm far better allowing me to gain insights on their condition then dying from it and changing nothing.”

Your voice rather flat, arms resting across your chest as you moved little. “I imagine the world will rejoice in their names when you surely give them credit for cutting them open and watching that happens to their insides.” Asking not with a genuine wonder but almost as if humouring you as you were him, if you disapproved. “Do I disapprove of you experimenting on living men to understand what was killing them? Yes, I can say I disapprove of that with some conviction.”

His head leaning back the slightest, he found another route of question as if examining you before his eyes with only your words and expression. “Tell me, my Queen, how many have you killed? Five? Ten? A dozen?”

Your eyes slipped to the side, both of you knew the answer was more complicated then that. Certainly now. Only years ago could you say that number was zero. It was even further away from zero, you had never gotten into such a physical confrontation so seriously before. But the day Lannister men surrounded yourself, Lord Stark and Jory Cassel, that number only increased to one, but it only takes that first to change everything. In near the same instance did Jaime Lannister himself shove a dagger through Jory’s eye, did you make eye contact with him, your own shoved through the neck of his own guard. The blood more prominent on you then it even was him, and he was the greatest swordsmen, or one of them. Then you fought at Whispering Wood, and that number lost count. So you were honest. “I lost track of that along time ago.”

A hum came from his throat as you looked at you, possibly seeing an image of the Lady Baratheon the realm had heard of most your life and finding an image not at all matching. “A rare thing for a woman. Not only to be one to take a life but so many at that.” You made no comment, the weight carried with you all the same no matter the sex. “And how many lives have you saved?”

That came quick. Quicker then he was expecting. “None.” Yet just as fast you changed gears on him, “What can you tell me of the confrontation we came in on the other day? What happened here?” Claiming his knowledge was limited, you cut him off before he could finish. “Limited is better then none.”

Trying to find someone in this castle was a nightmare.

Corridor to courtyard it was endless. As if plucked in the middle of Flea Bottom and told to find one man, even with so much of the castle out of any sort of use. Your patience wearing thin by the time you spotted him locked in a conversation with one which would destroy the rest of that patience. The voice speaking to him falling on somewhat deaf ears as Lord Karstark found your person and a struggle to pretend he had decorum still underneath the anger. “I have my best men on it, if he is out there, we’ll find him.”

Eyes still locked onto you as he responded, “Aye, but what then? We give him a scolding?” His companion turning to see where his attention went and found you. One of them at the least still understood what respect was on some level, a small nod in place of a bow as you approached.

Skipping right to your point, today of all days you did not wish to entertain the anger of the Karstarks. “My lord, if you could give us a moment to speak. Alone.” A glance shared between them before he begun to walk with a grumble just under his breath, only for you to catch the glaring eyes of Harald Karstark, his now only living son left being sent your way before following his father.

If you weren’t mistaken, you’d have thought you were the one who wrapped your chains around Torrhen Karstark’s neck yourself, the way you were being glared at. But, you would take it over any of that ire being sent Robb or Catelyns way in the middle of this such fresh patch of grief.

Left with only one, Roose Bolton gave you his full attention with no hangups to stand behind him at the very least. “Northerners can be as stubborn as our winters, your grace. It will take time for those wounds to heal.” Nodding, your eyes watched the path the men left towards now out of sight before looking back, a curious expression on his face. “But I presume that isn’t why you’ve sought me out this afternoon.”

“No.” Your eyes purposely glancing around to the grim outsides of the sight, most of the dead taken care of which were left out, but the lingering scent of death was never so easily washed out. “What happened here was not at Robb’s command.” Rumbling in a low agreement, already did he begun trying to connect where your own thoughts were. Grateful that as intimidating of a man he was, Roose Bolton was smart and trusting in the world of battle. Quickly rising in the ranks between yourself and Robb as someone whose counsel you both not only trusted but would seek out. Now feeling no different, if not just for the tenseness on him which you could easily attribute the general feeling around all the men presently.

Speaking only enough for the two of you to hear, “If you are asking my thoughts on the matter, I would have to guess that one of the River Lords became a little too over eager, and tried to take on the Mountain and his men themselves. To what ends though, I’m not sure.”

You didn’t confirm the information which Qyburn told you, not to Lord Bolton, but you did have enough to know your worries were indeed, the right ones. “I do.” His brows raised as his face twisted in curiosity, but yours remained stern and rigid as something was holding you back from near speaking through gritted teeth. “Five dead Lannister men for every one of ours, but nowhere along the way did we see any sign of them. Whoever did this, attacked the Mountain and won, and sent them running.” Asking where, your answer lead to a narrowing in his eyes that you both understood. “South.”

More details were skipped, mostly this time such personal ones relayed about the ones you knew in what felt like another life. But what you spoke gave Roose Bolton enough to catch up and his assessment matched your own, as you both could tell you were on the same understanding. “If you mean to tell me you suspect these two events are related, I would have to agree with you. Driving the Mountains forces out of the west would give him enough time to join with Tywin Lannister.”

Finishing for him with a more flat knowing. “Which would give him more forces then Stannis Baratheons, to drive him out of Kings Landing before he could take it.” Your jaw clenched, hands behind your gloves tensing as if to try and dig through the leather and sink your nails painfully into your palms. “My fathers army outnumbered them five to one, even if the Tyrells at his side that wouldn’t have been enough if everything had gone according to Robbs plan.”

Smart man as he was, picking up on how easily you deferred your own part in the plan to Robb alone, and how for everything you were you were so easily willing to give credit to your King instead of demanding the equal share. Sometimes still did you manage to suprise the Northern Lords no matter how close they thought they were getting to knowing you. “I presume you have an idea whom was responsible for this?” You nodded once and quick he was to catch that you were not sharing. If you were right, this for Robb would be far more of a family matter. One which you were not going to throw onto the coals for all to see, Robb could decide for himself how to handle his uncle when the time came, if you were right.

“If I may ask, your grace, of you suspected all of this already, why come to me first and not the King?”

Your expression fell, if not softened the slightest. It was known by this point what rolling news came one after the other that morning for the Starks and Tullys in one blow. Arms crossing more over your front, hands tightening again as if to channel that energy into where you wish you felt a sting instead of whatever conflict sat in your chest. “I needed to know I was right before I brought it to him. He has enough to handle right now without having to put all this together on top of it.”

You both knew what it was you meant in specifics. Roose Bolton had been a great help at Robbs side the entire time from the moment news was sent your way. Ravens had come from White Harbour, Barrowton and the Dreadfort of what Theon had done. What all the Greyjoys had done and were containing to do and it was all a mess.

Theon had raided Torrhen's Square before moving onto Winterfell. Balons own daughter Yara held men at Deepwood Motte, and beyond GreyWater Watch was where Victarion Greyjoy held Moat Cailin. Other pockets of Ironborn were scattered around, but without much organization. It was the Greyjoys themselves holding this together, but it was Theons which was the worst.

A betrayal you felt hurt deeper then you thought, turning swiftly to such an anger that he had done this, that you and Robb had not even hesitated to proclaim he’d die for this. Robb meant it then, you had meant it then, and certainly you both did now. Bran and Rickon. One boy crippled, the other only seven or eight and their blood was now on the hands of someone they knew from the day they were born. You could only imagine how confused they were by it, why Theon had done this.

Did they think the same thought you did? Did Theon secretly hate you all the whole time?

Almost being snapped back into the moment, Roose Boltons voice hit you once more as if forgetting where you even were. “If my bastard had been able to get there faster-”

Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh. Eyes closing only as long as it took for the breath to leave your lungs in a large chunk. “Word hadn’t gotten in or out of Winterfell for months. There would be no reason to kill all the ravens unless he had something to hide. Meaning he was hiding this for a long time. Longer then your son would’ve had to try and prevent it.” A small appreciation could be somewhat found on his face. “No matter what he found when he got there, give your son my thanks. Robb and myself, both. He tried, and that’s all we can ask for with what we didn’t know.”

Almost to part ways, Roose called out just as you turned. Your body pivoting halfway back, “Is there nothing else on your mind?” Your brows narrowed for a moment as he elaborated. “You seem tense, more tense then the present issues at hand alone. If there is anything on your mind, my counsel is always here.”

Your smile was half made and did not reach his eyes, but you ignored the twisting in your gut with a more low tone that didn’t feel very meaningful. “Just a long few days is all, my lord.”

A few long days indeed, but by the end of it, things had changed drastically. And everything, at least between yourself and Robb would be out in the open and no doubt ready to spread throughout the ruins of the castle by sunrise. But in the very moment your mind considered it all, that was really the least on your mind.

“No. We won't talk this out, he dies for this.”

It was almost precisely what was about to come out of Robb's mouth, and yet you beat him to it with a hissing anger and flashing rage in your eyes. He was furious, but once the dust settled he found himself surprised you were as angry as you were. But in truth he supposed it made sense. It was one hit after another for you and Robb knew you refused to talk about it over his angers.

You and his mother seemed to have spoke something in silence that afternoon when she told you of Renly Baratheon's death. She faded her own words off, but your head whipped up to meet her eyes with a morose knowing falling upon them. But you wouldn't handle it from front of all them, so you switched tactics and spoke of the matter solely on a strategic value. And yet before he had the chance to find the right way to approach you about it, did you and Roose Bolton come into the tent he and his mother were in.

He held a look of a stern knowing of bad news, and you were stiff and trying not to show the shaking in your hands as you gave him the raven scroll. You had only read it moments before Robb had, and as Roose explained it in greater detail, the intensity rose tenfold between both of you.

He couldn't comprehend it at first, there was no way it could be true. Half his life he was raised there. Bran, Rickon, and Arya had never had a life were Theon wasn't in, and Sansa would've been too young to recall what life was like before he showed up. Theon grew from a boy to a man right alongside Robb and Jon both. Robb knew his father treated Theon was good as a son as he could have, what right did he have to stab his family in the back for one that hadn't wanted him for over a decade?

It wasn't until late into the night, you fast asleep with your back tucked tightly against his chest, Robb running a free hand up and down your bare hip did it finally make sense. You went into this war in a difficult position. On an opposing side to a father who thus far had not made any attempt to make peace with his daughter. Knowing were you to have sided with Stannis, you'd have been a Princess of House Baratheon, and without being seen as a traitor by him, many all knew he'd have named you his heir in place of a son.

But you gave all of that up willingly. You set all of that aside to stand by Robb's side, and he pitied the version of his life he went through this war without you. You couldn't fight with Robb and your father both, so you chose him, you chose the family that had made you welcome and showed you love without question. You made the difficult choice to set aside what law dictated was your birthright, and stood with the Starks.

It made sense to Robb, that you took Theons betrayal hard. You were now watching the version of your life that you once feared the North would think of you. But you didn't, you stood out as a Southerner, a foreign girl with a father opposing Northern independence, and yet you were Robbs wife, his Queen, the North's Queen.

Theon went crawling back to a family that didn't want him and betrayed everything he was raised with in order to what? Impress his father? What about his father in Ned? What about Eddard Stark's memory deserved to be insulted like this? Ser Rodrick was dead, his brothers then what he could only assume were hostages.

You and Theon had a rough start, but once you both set aside the grudges against the others family, you both were such easy friends. Robb recalled how amusing it was that once you both stopped hating each other, it was as if that chapter of your dynamic never existed in the first place. You were both the outsiders to the Stark family, and your drastic opposites ended up meshing in some amusing ways that created the foundation for a friendship he knew you and Theon both cared a lot about.

In the easy days, neither of you would admit it as such, but if you weren't doing your duties, if you weren't spending time with either Robb or Jon, they all knew somewhere in the castle walls or wolfswood you and Theon were off competing in some fashion or another. Of course this hit you hard, first your uncle, then Theon, the life you once knew was unravelling before your eyes.

It only got worse when you and Robb returned to the encampment, and found out his mother had released the Kingslayer in the middle of the night. Now, you only had each other. Allies and friends were in this army yes, but in terms of who had the others backs in such a close way, you had only Robb and Robb had only you now.

He loved his mother, but there was no denying the rage at what she had done. Maybe he was harsh about it, but there were going to be untold consequences for setting Jaime Lannister free and Robb couldn't afford to risk your life on top of his mens.

And yet, it never stopped getting worse. Robb barley had time to even consider what had happened at Harrenhal yet. Once Roose Bolton came to he and you with two raven scrolls, it felt as if the world was testing if Robb could keep his kingdom together let alone his family. He told you he'd tell his mother alone, that she wasn't going to take any of it well and she might react easier if it was only him.

You had accepted with too much ease, Robb knew something was wrong but so much had piled on both your shoulders, he had not the foresight to guess. So you left him be, and Robb had to deliver the news to his mother.

“I hadn't seen him in years. I don't even know how many.”

His grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun, had been ill for some time, and finally it seemed the end of such a long bout of sickness took it's toll. Robb could tell his mother had spent well over twenty years in the North by now, she held her resolve in front of her son as well as Robb was doing in front of his mother. She'd fall apart later, and he'd fall apart later. For now, Robb had to be firm as he was comforting. “We'll travel to the funeral together. Roose Bolton will garrison here until we return.”

Robb wanted to feel guilt when she asked him, but he knew he couldn't let his personal attachment to his mother over take what she had done. And so he chose not to answer her comment of, “Will I be wearing manacles when I lay my father to rest?”

The answer was no, but he had a feeling that wouldn't make what news he needed to tell her next any better. It needed to be said, and he needed to not dose the words with honey. She needed to hear the truth as you and him were forced to learn it. “By the time Bolton's bastard Ramsay got to Winterfell, the Ironborn were gone. They massacred our people and torched the castle.” Robb paused to let the burning in his lungs try to deflate just the slightest, keeping the waver from his voice. “Bran and Rickon haven't been found.”

His mother found reason right away as he knew she would try. “They may have escaped, Theon may have taken them back to the Iron Islands as hostages. Have you received any demands?”

No, Robb thought to himself. He hadn't. But Ramsay and his men did find something. Something that painted the picture as clear as it could be, and as her son, this was the last news he wished to tell his mother. But as King, he did so anyways. Because amongst the dead they found, there were two bodies which stood out.

Charred, black, burned, and small. One smaller then the other and just the right size, and from the word of survivors which had hidden away in Winter Town, Theon had let them all know too well who such two little burned bodies belonged too.

By the time Robb reached what was acting as his chambers for the time being, he let the tears flow freely in silence. Head handing in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed. By the time you had gently walked in, kneeling in front of him with your softness and delicate care, Robb knew he only had you left. The agony of losing everything but you hit him rough in his heart.

Until that was you guided his hand to sit against your stomach just under your clothes with a sweet, tender, whisper on your lips. “You have us.”

Not very warm the chambers you were in, even with a fire going all night. The cracks and chunks missing from the walls anywhere meant that nowhere was so in tact that it could keep the warm in. Though, with the fur atop you almost hiding you away under it and the figure behind you, keeping your back pulled firmly into his chest, you seldom needed to think of it as long as you didn’t leave the bed.

But, you couldn’t do that forever. Your legs itched to move and stand and you knew in bed you’d only fidget around until it woke Robb up, but he didn’t make the task simple. Inching ever so slowly out of his grasp and out of the bed, quickly did you find yourself grabbing a long robe. Draping almost against the floor like a gown as you tied it’s front before making your way along the room. Stepping into a smaller shoe then your usual boots to hide the coolness from your feet as well.

Somewhat along the room was a hall, you suspected once a door existed where it stood but none anymore, burned away no doubt. And no inclination to properly fix, your answer as to the question of why coming shortly thereafter. Wherever it once led, it didn’t anymore. A drop off down to the lower levels, bodies from up here looked like ants and sounds were muffled if any voice could carry to these heights.

The air was cool and a set of stones sat between you and below but little else, but no fear was felt surprisingly. The insides of this great structure exposed to you, and yet that didn’t make you feel fear. The bones of what happened once made you angry, but now you knew there was little to be gained in that thought. They were gone, whats left of their power scattered and being fought over by blood. You feared what this war would bring to the ones you loved even more, not dragons long since dead.

Though, there was one more thing you were afraid of, small touches and a deep voice rumbling in your ear out of nowhere. Followed by a flat expression as the voice laughed. Robb tugged you into his back, one hand on your hip and the other sitting flat against your stomach. You didn’t even need to turn to see his handsome smile as he laughed at your jump. Leaning down to your ear, “It’s a dangerous fall from this height.”

Your smile was soft, nor did you move. “Which is why I still have two feet planted on the ground.” That time his chuckle was more in his chest and yet pulled a greater smile out of you. The quiet sat between you only for a moment before it was you who filled the silence. “I’m sorry.” Asking for what, your voice grew a bit more quiet, a bit more somber. “For everything that happened yesterday, I never said anything about your grandfather.”

Pulling you a bit closer, you felt his thumb run over the material over your stomach more in a gentle pattern. “It’s alright, my love. You had more then a few things on your mind too, yeah?” Tilting your head in a small agreement, Robb rested the side of his head against yours as he looked to the sights over your shoulder. “You weren’t the only conflicted one. My grandfather passed, Bran and Rickon are probably dead, and yet I felt the happiest I ever have when you told me. Suppose we’re a strange mix of both.”

Nodding slightly, your hands reached down, pushing up the material along his forearm of whatever he must have tossed on, you let your hands sit along there. Your eyes narrowed slightly as the wind blew somewhat in your direction, a feeling sitting in your heart that travelled down to your stomach once more. How strange it was that you were scared just last night to tell him. A laugh almost leaving you but of course it did not pass Robbs notice. Asking what, you turned your head slightly before leaning back against him almost more for support. “Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done and the thing that scared me the most was telling you about this.”

Another grin left, Robbs lips finding the hair at the side of your head before resting against it once more. Something soft on his tongue without any judgment, “You thought I would be mad. You thought telling your husband, who loves you as much as I do, whose always wanted a family of his own, would be mad his wife is pregnant. For such a smart girl, you’re a bit slow.”

Mouth dropping in part mock offence, Robb laughed only to all but yank you back when you tried leaving his touch. Knowing he was stronger then you, but your voice was more high pitched in an attempt to defend yourself. “We’re also at war, in the middle of Harrenhal when we came here expecting a fight. Of course I thought you would be mad now of all times.” Robb didn’t have to tell you he rolled his eyes for you to know, you could simply sense it.

His hand pressed more firmly down. “You could never make me mad. Certainly not about this. It doesn’t matter what happens in this war, we’ll make this work. I was actually thinking-”

You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. “That’s a rare thing.”

A yelp followed as he pinched the hip he held, you laughing after apologizing as he pushed passed what you said. “What I was saying, is that I was wondering if you should stay in Riverrun when we get there.” Your head tried turning to the side with a furrowed brow, a feeling dropping in your chest only for Robb to pull it back and lull you back down. “We thought we were walking in on a fight. You were willing to fight in this state, but I don’t want to risk it anymore. You’ll be safe in Riverrun, you and my mother.”

Inhaling a bit, you let your hand drift downwards to rest over his hand. Only to have him switch places, Pressing it firmly against your stomach before covering with his own. The idea made sense, it wasn’t terrible, it made sense, but the thought sounded awful in your heart. You didn’t see the benefit for you in being apart from him that way. “What about you?” A hum came out in question behind you. “Your mother and I hide away in Riverrun, what are you doing without me?”

His head jolted back in amusement at you. “You saying I can’t fight this war without you?” You said nothing, which was as good as an answer to him. Holding you closer, you felt the need to grin in his voice. “Aye, you might be right there. I’ll be useless if I can’t have you beside me at night.”

What sleep would you find without him though? Every since you rode through the gates of Winterfell, three days without food or sleep you hadn’t spend a single night away from Robb. He was always there, always with his arms wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Nightmare or not, Robb was there to ease all of it.

The idea of being without him almost felt scary. What would you even do without him there at this point? You dared not want to actually find out. Shaking your head, you knew you had dropped the tone rather abruptly in your silence but Robb could adjust anyways. “I know I’d be safer. In Riverrun, with the baby, but my place is by your side. This war is yours as much as it’s mine too. As long as your fighting in it.”

The hand on your hip reached upward. Running along to cup your chin and turn you enough to look back at him seeking your eyes over your shoulder. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just trying to plan ahead is all. We might still be out here when the baby comes, and I need to know we have a plan.” Commenting that it was still around seven months in the future, Robb just pressed against your hand on his stomach more firmly. “Just wait and see how much I have planned out when that time comes, then.”

You both stood there for a while, neither feeling the need to say anything. The wind blowing just enough that Robb gently pulled your hair behind you off to the side out of his face. You felt his head moving, stretching upwards to gaze around. Taking the sight in, much like all of you took turns doing. All highborns, some more then others, inevitably learned about the fires of Harrenhal. The horrors of that day no matter how much the written texts by once Targaryean supports claimed it was otherwise.

Cursed and destroyed, no good could ever come of this no matter what. Harren the Black spent decades acting as a blight on the River Lords and the smallfolk, but no one thought this should’ve been the end to him, his sons, nor the castle so many people had struggled to help make. Nothing could justify this, and it seemed Robb did too. Mumbling low in your ear, “So, what exactly happened here?”

Face twisting, you more then halfway turned to look at him with a pure confusion, “I know you know the story, Robb.”

His hands wrenching from your body, he grabbed your forearms to turn you back to the sight, wrapping around you once more when putting you in place. “I do, but you’re the Targaryean expert here. I want to know how you’d tell it.” Asking with a hint of jest, questioning his usage of expert. “You know more about them then anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Sighing deeply, you knew he was not wrong. How much you wished it was, how much your head was tormented as a child growing up surrounded by their memories. Even as you walked over the graveyard of their dynasty, your family creating their new one on top of them, you couldn’t escape how much they haunted you and your thoughts. Everything they did and you rarely ever found something to like. “Well, the Great Council was held here.”

Silence was met before Robb muttered low and bemused, “That’s the first thing you think of in this place?”

Protesting with a grin, “To be fair, that involved my family.” Giving Robb pause, he looked down to you asking how. You didn’t blame people for not recalling that fact, it was obscure history and naturally only you would recall it. Head filled with so much information that held no significant anymore. But, you explained anyways. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryean. She was originally up for a claim as heir at the Great Council. Her father was King Jaehaerys’s firstborn son, but her mother was Jocelyn Baratheon. Our blood was meant to be on the Iron Throne through her before the Great Council.”

A grin came over Robb, as you did knowing exactly what conclusion he came to as you did. “Shame how that never turned out for your House. Baratheons on the Iron Throne.” Your eyes rolled, only to turn in his arms to look more up at him. Your hands grasping at his waist, looking down his shirt mostly left open and his breeches just barley pulled on. Perhaps your eyes lingered just a tad too long, his hand nudging your face up to meet his eyes from under your chin with a knowing glint in his bright blue eyes. “See something you like?”

Biting down on your tongue, any clever retort died on your lips before you let your hands drift upwards. Sliding flat against his torso, slightly letting them drift inside his shirt before running up along his collarbones still under the shirt before wrapping around the back of his neck. Robb held a smile, something both smug and yet soft down towards you, knowing he had caught you leering when you had been in such a more serious conversation. “Can you blame me?”

Oh the grin Robb gave you, making something needy in you almost ready to let the robe fall from your shoulders here and now. “My needy little wife.” Seeing a bright look grow on his face, coming to a realization before your eyes that not you had even gotten to yet. “So thats why you’ve been desperate for me for weeks now.” A flush fell over you, painting over your eyes so obviously as it only made Robb lean down with something more smug overtaking everything else in his eyes and voice. “My needy, pregnant wife can’t get enough of her husband.”

Trying to suddenly leave, your feet carried you only a few paces back into the room before Robb followed. Tugging you right back into his chest. “Oh no, you’re not running from this.” Instead of letting both hands stay at your hips, he let one rise up. Sliding down into the exposed loose fabric of your robe, he found your breast with a greed right away.

Grasping roughly as you gasped, your voice stammering in a pathetic attempt to pretend he couldn’t see so clearly how easily he worked you up. “It isn’t-it’s not that bad..”

Seeking your nipple, he twisted and tugged as much he could from the position he was in. His lips running along your check upwards towards your ear as he was warm in both sound and the breathe against your skin. “So if I pull this off,” His other hand now grasping at the tie keeping you dressed against the cool air as you tensed up, but from nerves, need or the shocks pleasured through you as he groped at your breast, you couldn’t tell. “And slip my hand between your pretty legs, I won’t find you wet already?” You knew he knew it was a lie, but you shook your head no to try. Robb only laughed. ‘You’re a bad liar, my love.”

Ever so slowly, Robbs hand grasped at the loose tie around your waist, pulling enough you felt every tug and pull and the fabric as it loosened around your front. A knock at the door however, stopped both of you in your tracks. Eyes flying upwards as a voice spoke muffled through, “Pardon, your grace, a message for you.”

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and trapped between a need he so easily dragged out of you, or a conflict of wanting to desperately asking him to ignore all his duties and strip you bare and take you back to the bed for anything he wanted to give you. Robb though, grinned before pressing his lips to your cheek. “Tonight, my Queen. If you’re good and wait for it, that is.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh leaving you in a high pitched need before Robb prompted you across the room for you to begin getting dressed. Moving himself towards the door, only opening it enough his figure could be seen as to indicate that whatever was needed would need a moment to get himself together.

It was an odd time for the feeling to strike, that the other lords would need to be told. Catelyn would need to be told. By the end of the day everyone would know, there would be no chance Robb wanted to hide his pregnant wife from his men, proudly wanting to show you off.

Routine at least sufficed for now, standing before him, you were so used to dressing him that neither of you even needed to say anything. He got his under clothes on, and you came to his side to put on his armour. Something at that point, you felt you could do with your eyes closed. His though were open and peeled down to your person. Not reaching out to you to interrupt, but his voice never found reason to hold back.

Robb always ready to fill the air to your quiet, that time a softness and adoration dripping through. “You’re going to have to stop wearing all this.” Your eyes flying upwards, he only flickered down to yourself. “I’m keeping you with me, but if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a battlefield, you are mistaken.” Your head looked up with a flat expression, but he didn’t listen to your silent protest at all. “My mother should have some dresses she could spare for you until we get to Riverrun. Have ones of your own made then that have room for when you start showing.” His eyes looked up as if pausing in thought before looking back down, your hands still uninterrupted at work. “Did the healers tell you how far along you are?”

Your eyes flickered up and back down quickly, your name coming from his lips accusingly. Your eyes down against his chest as you did the straps properly, voice quiet and knowing you’d get into trouble for not mentioning it. “Just over two moons..”

Name coming out more with an audacity, you knew Robb didn’t mean it angrily but he took the tone regardless as if scolding you. “You’ve been pregnant for two months, and you’ve known what? A month of that time and kept it from me?” Muttering under your breath you knew he didn’t hear you, he leaned down, “What’s that?”

Only saying quietly as if to put blame off of you, “Maege has known for a fortnight now.”

If you would’ve looked up to see Robbs face, you’d have seen the most fallen flat expression on him you’d ever seen. Mumbling under his breath with an annoyance you knew he only half meant. “Remind me to have a chat with her later.” Shaking your head with an amusement, you ran your hands along the armour against his arms as it separated from the leathers with a sigh. One signifying a satisfaction in your own work as he glanced down and back to you with a bright expression. “How does a man ever need a squire when he has you?”

A brief flicker of your eyes up and then back down, you only shrugged as you turned to put on a more loose fur lined coat almost too quickly for Robb to even move to do it for you, much to his dismay. Mumbling a bit as you fussed with the clasps at the front, you knew it was something a tad more insecure as it came from you. “It might be a better idea if you’re the one who tells the news to your mother.” Asking why, you felt his presence pace a bit closer but you didn’t look back yet. Still a bit under your breath as if trying to pass yourself off as casual when he knew better. “After yesterday, I don’t think she’d appreciate me coming to her to let her know she is to be a grandmother.” Glancing back up, you let a sigh more come out hoping the nerves left with it, which only marginally worked. “It may come across as insensitive to come from me right now.”

Nodding, Robb let his hands trail down your arms with a warm tone to match his soft gaze towards you. “I’ll handle my mother, you try not to let the men overwhelm you when they find out.” Asking how quickly that would get out, Robb rose an eyebrow as if assuming you should know the answer already, which perhaps you did as he said it. “Once I tell her, the first solider that overhears will tell another-”

Your voice came out much more flat and monotone then his own, knowing the teasing of Northerners coming your way. “Then the entire camp will know by midday.” Robbs head tilted in agreement before letting a hand rise up.

Cupping your cheek as he ran his thumb along the softer skin and tilted you up to meet his gaze as he stepped a tad closer to you. “We’ll make it through this, do you understand?” The words were firm even if his voice had not been, a gentle manner of trying to assure you there was nothing to be scared of. There was, but not for this. Of all things, Robb only wished you not be scared of what was to come with this. But you trusted him without a doubt.

Nodding gently, Robb didn’t say anything further. Instead choosing to lean down, and press his lips to yours. Nothing of greed or even a passion, but something lingering and chaste as you felt him savour the feeling as your hands slid up along his torso to around the back of his neck. His free hand sitting at your waist pulling you closer as he barley allowed himself to part before seeking you out again.

This marriage was nothing either of you expected. Thrusted upon both of you without any foresight that this was coming, you could only imagine how he must have felt hearing of it. You knew yours was less of a reaction and more of a shock.

For years, your father had done all he could to keep you from being pursued by the apparent many suitors which held interest in your name and status. Choosing rather to keep you firmly at his side, learning his trade and skills to one day prepare you to take over Dragonstone when the time came. You weren’t a son, which is what he always wanted, but you were all he had in place of one, and Stannis Baratheon was not a man to leave himself woefully under prepared when he could help it.

You had tried to argue, that he could not just throw this on you, then tear you back here to do his job while he was away when he wouldn’t even explain to you what was going on. For a Baratheon, your father did not often raise his voice, but he had a different tactic with you. A more edge to it that bordered on about to be lectured and it almost sprung something in your head that naturally feared getting on his bad side. Telling you with a deep frustration that he didn’t want to hear another word and that you were doing this no matter what. He had claimed it was the Kings choice and he had none.

The next day you were the only one brave enough to accompany your uncle to the throne room where Jon Arryn’s body was being prepared by the Silent Sisters. Asking in a quiet voice as you both stood to the side, why he was so sudden on this marriage. It was then he told you that it was in fact your father who came to him, all but demanding he make this betrothal as soon as possible. He had already gotten on a boat to Dragonstone then, you couldn’t ask him.

You knew now, why he used you as a pawn to gain the loyalty of the Starks and therefore the North, not that it worked. Only just barley opening your eyes as Robb pulled back, he looked down at you with all the softness you grew up thinking a husband would never show you. It came easy to Robb, as loving him came easy to you.

It had been a very long time since you ever knew something you wanted, but even standing in the blasted ruins of a haunted castle, you could say you had right in front of you all you could ever want. As long as you and Robb had one another now, that was enough. Just as it was enough with the little one between you.

Not all showed perfect respect to your position, but some were more amusing about it then others.

A sudden shout of your name had you turn on the spot some hours later, but not enough before all but being slammed into with a mighty grab. Looking up, the ever bright look in Dacey Mormonts eyes were enough to catch your attention as did her words, “My bloody mother kept this a secret from me for weeks. You trusted her with it but not me?”

A laugh came from you, knowing this was as good as a congratulations to her. “I never really told her, she put it together and I simply never denied it.” Daceys face only dropped amusingly flat, stating that such a thing wasn’t the same as what she meant. Letting an arm stay around you though she backed off enough so you didn’t looked like she was about to tackle you once more. “I wasn’t going to firmly tell anyone without a doubt before Robb.”

Dacey only giving her mother Maege a narrow eyed expression which she clearly read as a question. The later nodding amusingly towards you with a jesting tone, “I tried telling her she’s a fool for thinking he’d be anything but over the moon. Stubborn as all hell this one. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of my own girls.”

Sitting you down, more familiar faces begun to gather but it was all in good fun it seemed, teasing you for what seemed the only good news any had heard and would hear for a long time. But it wasn’t the same everywhere, or for everyone.

While back and forths were made at your expense, the air was not the same level of ease in the room Robb stood in. He knew she wouldn’t handle it as well as she might have were their lives all normal as they desperately yearned for, but he had to tell her himself. She’d figure it out and he needed his mother to to be at your side. She half raised you along with his father, Robb knew she deeply cared about you but for many reasons she had let personal feelings get in the way of being there for you the way Robb knew she wanted to.

“She’ll be in danger.”

Robbs voice though raised. Because despite the amount of understanding he could afford her, to did he feel at his wits end going rounds with his mother about you. Some subjects were far worse for his sanity then others, but all aggravating the same. “You think I don’t know that?”

Catelyns face twisted into her own frustration as she turned away. A hand running along her mouth before turning back to her son. “She should stay at Riverrun once we get there.” Robb only muttered that he wasn’t going to hide you away from him the entire war. “She will be safe there.”

Robb turned to face his mother with the hope he looked a bit more collected then full of a nerve then he felt broaching that topic. “Anywhere but by my side she’s not safe.” Catelyn took a moment to look at her son, seeing through his facade as a mother always could and saw the worry in his eyes all too well. Only getting as far as his name when Robb trampled over what would be her consoling to explain himself further with more coherency. “Mother, I didn’t bring her into this fight to hide her away. She’s my wife, and my Queen. I want her by my side, where she belongs.” Gesturing vaguely out to the walls they both knew Robbs men were scattered about. “My men all listen to her, respect her as much they do me. She could’ve gone anywhere, but she rode day and night to come to me when she escaped Kings Landing. I didn’t want to leave her behind then, and I won’t do it now.”

Looking away for a moment, Robb knew sometimes that was hard to consider. Knowing how much this marriage was dumped onto he and you both, Catelyn could almost forget that Robb knew you for near fifteen years before then. You weren’t some stranger, you were someone he knew and cared about but watching how deeply in love her son fell in such a short period of time was jarring he figured.

And it was fast, but Robb knew he has no problem with that. Everything between he and you started fast and he saw no reason to slow that down when you both were comfortable. Your own wedding night, a flustered, shy maiden but you did not hesitate. You knew what was expected of you, and instead of doing it out of only duty, you allowed Robb to teach you how to enjoy it, how to enjoy each other and you never looked back. Why should he? Why slow down when nothing about your lives together would ever give you a chance to do that?

Only when he had you and his child safe in Winterfell would he be able to slow down with you, but he wasn’t afforded that luxury just yet. So he was going to keep the speed you both went at, and that meant keeping you at his side to ensure you both always were at the same pace. Never one maybe leaving the other behind.

But, his mother had a point in her next words. “She’ll be in far more danger when word of this gets out beyond your men, Robb. Both of you will be in far more danger. If the Lannisters hear word that you are to have an heir-”

Robb only cut her off to solely finish her sentence. “They’ll do whatever they can do stop it.” Thinking for a moment, Robb only found himself sitting down. His mother slowly approaching to sit across from him at the small table of her temporary bedchambers. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he said it, but if he could be that honest in front of anyone, no matter their issues now, he could do so in front of his mother.

A furrow in his brow and a roughness to his voice as he said it, not looking at anything in particular. “I thought I’d already be a father by now.” Her eyes flying up to look at her son, but he did not return the gaze. Trapped in a memory of what he wished. “I knew she had to go back to Kings Landing, but I kept hoping she wouldn’t stay. That something would change early and she could come back to Winterfell. Nothing going wrong and maybe I could’ve ended up where I am now by the end of that year at least.” It was a thought, and it was distant and sad but he saw it and he knew his mother of all people would not judge him for it. “They’d nearly by two by now.” Your name coming back up. “Maybe she’d be in the same position, only she’d be pregnant with a second. Make you a grandmother in better circumstances.”

Catelyn let out a gentle huff meant to replace a laugh, the image not too far from the life she truly envisioned for her first boy. Robb had always wanted a family of his own, and while it being with you came as a suprise, all she had wanted for him was what Robb wanted now. For him to have that family, to be together where you all belonged. Not dead or lost or scattered or sworn away to a life never to have a family of their own.

Everything now felt broken, and Robb wouldn’t let go of what was left. And really, what truly was left to him was you and that baby. He loved his mother, but you and the baby were a bright spot on his darkened life. Something hopeful and something that spoke that a future for you all still existed. You and that baby to him were everything and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. Maybe you wouldn’t be safe out here with him, but you’d be together at least.

His mothers voice cutting in, no doubt trying to lighten the mood for his sake. “Do you have any idea what it is yet? Boy or girl?”

Robb only shook his head. “We haven’t gotten that far. She’s two months though, it won’t be long until the healers will be able to make a good guess.” His mother repeating the two specifically with a more narrowed gaze of question that he tilted his head with an answer. “Everything around us, she didn’t realize when she started feeling different until far passed what most women notice.”

He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but she still said it rather dry. “Well, after taking almost two years.”

Robbs gaze turned towards her with almost a glare, “The war has been hard on her.” Not saying anything, he almost now defended his own ability. “It wasn’t for the lack of trying.” Catelyn only gave a bit of a huffing scoff, muttering that she was unfortunately well aware of that.

His mother looked as if she had something more to say, and he knew what. She wanted to say his father would be proud of him, but she had said it once and he wasn’t ready to hear it only months after he was gone. But, he wasn’t ready now either. His mother was to have a grandchild, and he was still fighting a war against the Lannisters who took his fathers ability to meet his grandchild away in the first place.

Robb called his banners to rescue his father, but in turn the gods took him, his sister, and his brothers away from him. The only ones left to share this with were right here, and it was not lost on Robb that he didn’t feel proud of that. He didn’t even know if he’d ever be able to share his new life with Sansa either. With Tywin Lannister in Kings Landing, it was impossible to guess what fate could possibly befall the only sister he had left.

His sisters adored you. Sansa for years now had tried to pretend it was otherwise since growing to her teens, but he knew better. Deep down, Sansa was still that little girl who clung to your leg wanting to beg mother to let you stay and be her big sister forever. She’d be thrilled to be an aunt, but now he dared not think how she would hear that news. What those people must be saying around her of this war and her family, what they were no doubt forcing her to say just to survive.

Robb only had two siblings left to him, and they were the two which he was not sure would ever get a chance to share the new life for this family Robb was building with you.

If anything was true, it was all rather simple for Robb to find you despite being in this place. With the intimidating size of Grey Wind as he always found himself at your side, Robb seldom found it hard to seek you out. Whether he somehow could tell where his direwolf was, or something far stranger neither of you knew how to bring up was going on, regardless, Robb found you with ease.

A hand running along your back to slightly keep you more pressed into his side as Robb came up behind you, you heard his voice address his men with as much collected form as possible considering you knew all day he and you had been bombarded with Northern celebration of their Kings news. “If you could give me a moment with the Queen.”

Much like the rowdiness his father could summon, Smalljon Umber easily carolled the other men and lords up and out. “You hear the King. It’s a big castle, plenty of places to fuck off to.” Not leaving himself though, the just as large man he was like his father, gave a mighty pat on the arm to Robb with a knowing look as Robb only nodded with a held back smile.

Head turning both of you to watch as the last of them fell from earshot, Robb leaned to mutter amusingly in your ear, “Hope they haven’t been giving you the kind of grief they’ve given me.” Turning to him with a curiosity, you only asked what exactly was the kind of grief they were giving him. Robb though, only smirked, turning you to lean you more back against the table as he stood at your front, making you more comfortable as he could manage. “Heard more then enough about how they have no idea why it took you and I so long.”

Raising a brow, your voice was calm as your arms gently crossed along your front. “And, did you also explain to them that being at war makes that sort of thing not so simple?”

It seemed though Robb had an amusement within him. “Oh it is that easy, my love. It’s having it take that was the troublesome part. Not that I didn’t try.” Your gaze filtered away a bit, a fluster wanting to rise up into your face despite how little of yourself you had to hide from Robb at this point. A hand rose up, running along your cheek as you let your hands sit comfortably at his sides. His other sat at your hip, his eyes torn between your face and stomach. “I’m leaving Roose Bolton to hold Harrenhal, he and his men will keep any of whatever scattered Lannisters still out there from coming back here, and we should have everything North secured from them at the least.”

Nodding, your hands felt the need to toy with something, almost fidgeting against his side innocently as if the day had begun gathering up and needing to be expelled somewhere. “Well, at least Lord Bolton suits this place far better then Janos Slynt.” Robbs eyes narrowed a tad as you elaborated. “Commander of the City Watch, a complete imbecile.” Robb only let out a breathy laugh at how plainly you had put it, causing you to look up at him more amused trying to defend your own words. “If you spoke to him you’d agree. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain it was just me he had a particular hatred for. They gave him Harrenhal as a reward for arresting myself and your father.” Muttering almost under your breath, “So skilled, having his men do the killing while he held a knife up to the throat of an unarmed girl.”

Looking up and around, Robb only turned back to your attention with a bemused question. “What exactly about this place suits Roose Bolton better then?”

Your answer made him genuinely laugh at how plainly you put it right away. “A cursed ruined castle that everyone fears? Why wouldn’t a man like him suit that?” Robb only saying you had a point, something of the man as admirable to seek as counsel as he was intimidating and off putting to a somewhat fearful degree. You dared not imagine what being at the mercy of a man like him would be should he see you as an enemy.

Leaning you back more against the table in a loungeful manner, Robb let his hands sit more along your waist and hip as he stepped into you with bright eyes. “I was wondering,” Your head turning a bit in wonder not knowing how much he was going to trap you in this spot. “Do you still remember anything in High Valyrian?”

If you thought you could afford to pull away, you would’ve tried. Your eyes and face as flat as you could possible make them. “And why are we bringing that up?” Robb only pointed out the obvious, that this place was now synonymous with the Targaryeans, and he knows you learned their language and he wondered if you were still fluent. “I might be.”

“Say something.” Your voice raised more high pitched but amusingly incredulous with wide eyes to match as you asked why. But Robb only laughed, keeping you close in his hold. “I’ve never heard you speak it before, I want to hear you say at least something.”

“You-”

Cutting yourself off as you looked away with an exaggerated sigh, Robb only grinned brighter knowing he wouldn’t let you leave until you did. “Just one sentence.” Another deep sigh, you didn’t return his touch. Crossing your arms over your chest instead almost like a petulant child asking what he wanted you to say. His answer was just as audacious. “How about my pretty little wife tells me in her foreign language how much she’s looked forward to her King taking her apart tonight?”

Biting down against your tongue, you didn’t want the fluster to arise, giving credence to the fact that he was right and you had indeed been thinking about it. In this state, it was becoming so much more wanting within you to just stay in bed with Robb and focus on nothing else, much to your complete embarrassment over your sudden needs.

“Nyke'll sagon va ñuha ondos se knees syt ñuha dārys, gō kessa sesīr jorrāelagon naejot demand nyke naejot beg zirȳla syt ziry.”

It came out smoother then you thought it would. It had been years since you spoke a word but it came out as naturally as it did as you were fluent. It seemed that fluency did not leave, and what a joy you thought. In no way shape or form did your future entail anything that would make still being fluent in High Valyrian in any way useful.

Robb looked amused though, enjoying the way it rolled off your tongue in a manner which almost held a bit of an accent not yours. The idea taught to you that speaking another language in the accent its spoken in normally, makes it come more fluent and natural to any ears who understand it. “What did you say?”

As if you were going to tell him that. Saying something far more debauched then you’d want to come out of your mouth in Common willingly. No one around knew what you said, you’d rather they not. Prompting you once, twice to get you to tell him, you just laughed saying his name in protest. “You asked me to say something, not to say something you’d ever understand. Maybe I just said you’re a ponderous oaf with a fat head.”

Robb only held more of a smirk and a glint in his eye. “I’ve trained my good girl far too well to worry she’s insulting me in another language.” Your eyes widened as you looked around, but any scattered eyes could not hear you even a little bit. His lips pressing to your cheek before he grasped your chin, leaning down and turning you to face him, his breath dancing across your skin as he muttered lowly, “If I had to guess, my girl just told me how much she wants me to throw her on her hands and knees tonight.”

Your eyes wished to explode from their sockets as you felt a complete embarrassment fill you. “How-”

Robb only grinned with such a smug look that was so enticing on his handsome face. “I know my wife by now.” Before pressing his lips back to yours. Keeping you against him for longer that time, both of you taking the rare moments in such a strange and dour place to feel any happiness. That Harrenhal could ever be a memory of good for anyone, let along yourself and Robb. But as your arms rested along the back of his neck as you kissed him right back, it was certainly so. A place where some good actually arose.

The dreams however, were not. As a night of passion once more between lovers, once sleep fell upon you did strange dreams fill your head. Ones never more vivid then when in the walls of this castle. Whispers in your head as if being spoken to from across the Gods Eye and filling your head with dreams you did not comprehend.

A winged shadow over the skies of Kings Landing, a freezing so cold it shivered your bones in your sleep, and a baby. Dark curls with bright eyes, not green nor blue though, a notable grey staring up at you as did a gentle womans voice whisper in your ear, that you would nearly forget by the time you awoke. As if something about the lands of Harrenhal were trying to show you something far before you were ever capable of comprehending it.

“Promise me, Ned.”

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

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hoodreader · 4 days ago

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𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝐹𝒜𝐼𝑅𝒴 𝒯𝒜𝐿𝐸𝒩𝒯

based on your fifth house in your birth chart !

🎀 the fifth house is the house responsible for talents, gifts, and your creative energy. i thought this post would be cute and silly, lol. there are a bunch of talents so i’ll only do the main ones :)

⚙️ tinker talent

fifth house in aquarius, with uranus, in gemini or virgo, with mercury, with saturn, in capricorn.

why? tinker fairies fix things and invent/innovate things, which means they are highly methodical. they also are visionaries, able to conceptualize tools from various items. they think creatively and are resourceful, as well as they use their hands!

👁️ scouting talent

fifth house in scorpio, in aries, with mars, with the moon, in cancer, in virgo

why? scouting fairies protect pixie hollow. mars is obvious - mars represents protection and defense, especially with scorpio, since scouting is highly perceptive. this is also why virgo is good here, because virgo pays great attention to detail. the moon is because she’s the natural satellite and defender / guardian of the earth! lunarians can be fiercely protective

💧 water talent

fifth house in cancer, pisces, or scorpio, with moon, with jupiter, with neptune, in aquarius

why? obviously water signs! but why aquarius? i added that one because that’s the water bearer

🐿️ animal talent

fifth house in virgo, cancer, lord in the sixth, moon or mercury

why? cancer/moon rules the love of animals. mercury/virgo is associated with animals. and so is the sixth house

🎨 art talent

fifth house lord in first, fifth, or seventh house, in taurus, libra, leo, pisces, with sun, venus, jupiter, neptune, aqua

why? this can show strong artistic gifts and abilities! the seventh house also shows fine arts, and arts done with the hands. venus, sun, jupiter, and neptune all denote some creative ability. and aquas are just such visionaries … i could see this too

⌛️ dust talent

fifth house lord in fourth, eighth, or twelfth, fifth house in capricorn, aquarius, pisces, with saturn or jupiter

why? this is a highly traditional talent, one that’s transgenerational. pixie dust is the foundation of the never fairy society - without pixie dust, fairies are not born and they can’t fly!!! thus, the saturn / fourth house, as they both rule foundations. aqua/pisces shows the dreaminess & idealism of it all, to materialize someone from glowing dust.

🌪️ fast flying talent

fifth house in aries, aquarius, gemini, with mercury, mars, uranus

why? speed is obviously aries, as well as mercury (being the quickest transiting planet). aquarius/uranus and mercury/gemini both share rulerships over winds and breezes, aka what fast flying fairies control

🪴 gardening & 🌹 flower talents

fifth house in taurus, capricorn, cancer, with venus, saturn, moon

why? taurus and capricorn share rulerships over plant growths, with taurus specifically ruling over flowers. cancer/moon shows nurturing things to grow thru nourishing them

☀️ light talent

fifth house in leo, aries, sag, with sun, lord in ninth or tenth

why? sun for obvious reasons. aries is the sign of sun’s exalt. and sagittarius bc jupiter shows illumination / clarity / brightness. the tenth house is the highest point in the sky (thus sun is brightest here) and the ninth house is where the sun rejoices :)

as a fifth house scorpio moon kid, i always chose an animal talent (probably 95% of the time) or a water talent (maybe 5% lol) ! my fifth house lord is in the sixth and i’m a fifth house lunarian so checks out lol 🐿️💧🐿️💧🐿️ as an adult tho ? i tend to feel torn between animal, water, garden, & light 🐿️💧🪴☀️

wbu? :)

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #astro notes #hoodreader

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skrunksthatwunk · 1 year ago

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thinking about how eiji's a pole vaulter and how ash talks about eiji "flying" and how eiji's associated with bird imagery and how eiji's free (unlike ash) and how eiji comes in on a plane and leaves on a plane and how ash cannot fly, ash cannot be free, how nyc is ash's prison, and how ash is the leopard who dies climbing the mountain, unable to live at such elevation, how he was trying to reach the sky and be free but was always stuck to the earth, how he chose to die instead of climbing back down, how he chose to die where he could see the sky and hope and freedom almost like a bird with eiji's letter right in front of him rather than letting everything go wrong and ruin it once again, how eiji's a failed pole vaulter anyway, how a bad fall ruined his career and grounded him (physically and emotionally), how it took flying to america and meeting ash and needing to save him and skip for him to try flying again, how he landed hard and harsh and still the thought of that escape compelled ash to protect eiji at all costs because if he could fly that means something to him, even if he doesn't think he can fly, how eiji is the manifestation of his hope and how when he breaks and asks eiji to stay with him a while he folds himself over his legs and weighs him down and traps him and grounds him, how ash fights like hell to keep eiji alive not because he thinks he can be like him (hopeful, flying, innocent), but because he makes him forget the gravity of his situation, and so he can see eiji fly again. how he wants to see him escape. how eiji is a bird and ash is a wildcat and how ash never once saw eiji as prey. how eiji never saw ash as a predator. how it is eiji's naivete that first endears ash to him, how it is his freedom and flight and removal from darkness and his ability to leave that darkness that really roots eiji in ash's blood as something essential to him keeping on living in this hell of nyc. how it is that distance from the violence and that hope for the future that ash chooses to surround himself in as he dies. how ash dies in a dream because he feels more than anything that he can't fly like eiji, that he can never leave. how his violence is a part of him and will be forever, how it weighs him down. how he wants to enjoy the view from the mountainside rather than looking up from the ground below. as if they can both fly. as if he is with him up there and not grounded. eye-to-eye with what he can't have, seeing eiji's homeland: the sky. how he dies trying to reach the top because he couldn't take retreating and trying again. how ash, tired and tired and tired and convinced it will go on forever if he crawls back down the mountain, chooses to close his life deluged in eiji, in eiji's insistence that they can fly together, in eiji's hope for him and for them, in eiji's beautiful dream. how ash dies without trying to realize that dream. how ash, in dying, destroys it.

#banana fish spoilers #I'M HAVING A FUCKING MOMENT #mutual reblogged exactly one (1) piece of ash fanart and sent me on A Multiple Hour Long Thing and now im rewatching it lol #yes i am only on episode 2 yes i am still going to write big long analysis posts ANYWAY #whatever hope this makes sense. anyway #banana fish #okumura eiji #ash lynx #asheiji #hhhhh i can't believe i've only watched this twice in like what 5.5 years?? sheesh #anywayyyyyyy i care about them a lot ok. god #and yes i DO kinda have beef with the decision to kill ash off at the end but it really does say so much About his character #that he chose to die in the way that he did even though he's been throwing his life away since episode 1 #dying in peace in comfort in solitude rather than in some chaotic battlefield.... ough...... in the peace eiji alone could give him.....#anywayss i relate to ash a little more than i should so. this one's for us cool guy bottoms up #edit i uh.... i forgot it was a leopard.... in the story..... but whatever it doesn't really affect the symbolic meaning it's just embarras #ing that i forgot >;/

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alexisomnias · 2 years ago

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— HIS GAZE SOFTENED. . .

⤷ his gaze softened trend with them!

featuring the DORM LEADERS

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

his gaze softened, in a way that's such as a sweet dessert batter melting under an oven. hot heat spreading all over, looking at you as if your the sun he's left to dry in. no one could ever make him feel the way you make him feel, and perhaps for that he is thankful. a relax of the face only you could make him feel safe enough to do, all sides of himself on display for those with eyes who can see the invisible, and for you. a courageous notion it is to let such fondness slip.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

his gaze softened, in a way that is indecipherable. to common folk, or any passerby it would be unnoticeable. Like a speck of dust the same color of the sky flying past the eye. but to those with the privilege of a microscope, its more seen then the sky itself. which in itself may be a silly phrase, but its nothing but true. for something that covers your complete vision, like the sky, you cannot see past it. and when you catch the soft gaze of a lion in your horizon, you should never look away.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

his gaze softened, or did it? it went by like a blink of an eye, a fish swimming by in a series of bubbles of all the same colors. a flurry of emotion, yet not counted or captured by your mind. and he, the man before you wishes to keep it that way. he will hold his affections down like a sunken ship until he wishes for you to find it. now, he feels as if these soft gazes from behind, watching your radiation from afar, unreachable like a sunset. he's content, more then content. he's not ready to break that.

KALIM AL ASIM

his gaze softened, his eyes upturning in a way of fondness separate from his usual looks of radiance and sunshine. beauty and curiosity, joy. all of it common traits associated with the boy. but for now, his eyes didn't hold any of it, for now it shined like a bright ruby. shines like its his first time seeing the sun, glimmering brightly in the hands of someone who can take him far and wide, someone he would be willing to love, and for that a fond smile, much lighter then usual arises on his face.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

his gaze softened, the hard jeweled eyes melting into a gooey shimmering oil of which you can see swirl, a whirlpool of emotions of which all mix into one. the professional actor he is, he's learned effortlessly on how to get that look of pure tenderness in his eyes as he looks at someone, but for those who have seen him with you. all those movies look photoshopped, as nothing can replace the genuinely in his eyes when they're glued to you.

IDIA SHROUD

his gaze softened in a way he'd never imagine himself doing. idia knows the terminology from his own... content. and he never thought the gestures could be real, until he found himself looking upon you. oh so perfect you, someone he can't help but to adore ever so. and his eyes must be the window to his heart and soul, as every emotion he doesn't let out in fear of a stutter or mess is said concise and clearly through his golden yellow eyes.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

his gaze softened, as if he was staring at the moonlight, or as if it was love at first sight. his usual stiff gaze ceased to exist when faced with you, his love. he held no shame as he stared at you as if you were the only one in the world, as if you were a birthday present for him. his gaze softened so, as his brows creased and a soft smile reached his face. nothing could replace the sight of your smile, and that in itself causes his body to relax and mind to slow. you make him so much happier, you are his stars on an empty night.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #malleus draconia x reader #idia shroud x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar character study #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #idia shroud

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holllandtrash · 2 years ago

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chasing fate | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x hamilton!reader

after months of lingering looks and shy smiles, all the two of you need is a little push in the right direction, but when that direction ends up being in circles, you start to wonder if there's even an end in sight

word count: 5k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, literally so pure and innocent

To put it simply, Lance Stroll was an introvert.

He loved his career, he loved the people on his team, but when the weekend ended he wanted nothing more than to go back to Montreal and hide away in the comfort of his house until he had to fly to the next country.

The worst was when there was no break in between races. When he had to fly from one race location to another, Lance struggled to hold in his complaints.

Oftentimes during the race weekend, he sought out places where he could find temporary comfort. Away from the crowds, away from the team sporting the matching Aston Martin colours. He just needed to breathe and he couldn’t do that with someone at his side. He couldn’t do that if he was called away for media or autographs. He couldn’t do that if he had to sit through yet another pointless meeting.

He lucked out in Monza, finding a spot early Thursday morning. Somewhere behind the motorhomes, a route that emergency vehicles would take so it wasn’t accessible to the public.

There was a bench, even somewhere for him to put his feet up. Absolutely perfect, he thought.

He sat there in between media sessions on Thursday, taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

He didn’t have anxiety, he just got overwhelmed easily.

All he wanted to do was race, he wished he could do that without the fifty thousand other agreements he never thought would become more and more unbearable as the races continued, as the years went on. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier the longer he did this? Why was he always counting down the minutes until he could just go home, or at least go back to the hotel?

Lance waited a minute or two more before standing up from the bench. He avoided the puddle that was near his feet and looked up at the sky. The clouds were a light grey, but no rain was supposed to be expected for the rest of the weekend, hopefully.

He was still looking up as he walked around the motorhome, thinking about how bad a storm would have to be for a race to be cancelled.

And you were looking down at your phone as you walked down that same dirt path, not caring about how the mud was going to stain the sides of your shoes because if you were being honest, you hated that you had to look your best during these weekends.

You hated that Lewis had turned the paddock into his own personal fashion show because the days you showed up with him, people expected you to also make some sort of statement or rep some expensive brand with your outfit. After all, you were the younger sister of 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton, and your association came with upholding his image.

But god you were tired of it sometimes. You loved watching the races, but you could do without being asked what you thought about your brother's career, how you felt his battle was going, if he was going to retire soon.

You didn’t care, truly.

Lewis knew what he was doing, all you wanted to do was watch and support and not be sucked into whatever drama was circling his life that week.

That's how you found yourself looking for a seclusive spot to just get away from it all.

When you bumped into Lance, you were both taken off guard. You hand went to his chest, his hand went to your arm to keep you both steady.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” You started to say, the same time Lance said “I didn’t see-”

You closed your mouth, dropping your hand to your side as he took a step back. The synchronised apologies didn’t need to be finished, it was clear you both weren’t looking where you were going.

“Is this your hideout?” You asked, a faint smile on your face when you saw the bench and the black boxes he had turned upside down to rest his feet on.

Lance looked behind him, inhaling a quiet breath before he smiled too, “Yeah, but I don’t mind sharing it if you’re in need of one.”

“How generous,” you teased.

Lance moved to step around you and had you kept walking towards the bench, you would have missed the way his smile dropped when he spotted the crowd of people on the other side of the motorhome.

But you caught it.

You didn’t say anything, but you felt bad for him, knowing that he had it so much worse being an actual driver. There was the stress of delivering and getting points every weekend on top of what he had to face when he stepped out of the car.

At least you got to go home after this and not think about Formula 1 until you decided to attend another race. This was Lance’s life.

And you liked Lance. You didn’t speak as often as you would have liked, but he was always very polite to you when you were in the paddock. Whereas most of the drivers kept to themselves and their teams if they were heading somewhere, Lance would send you a smile if he recognised you.

You knew he was shy, which is why you were always a little surprised if he did go out of his way to talk to you. Again, it wasn’t often, just a simple ‘How are you?’ or ‘It’s nice to see you’.

You liked his faint lisp as he spoke, you liked his Canadian accent, it made chatting with him more amusing for you. You were sick of the French and the British, you liked that when Lance spoke, there was always a sense of optimism to his words, even if he didn’t intend for it.

But most of all, you liked that despite being the son of Lawrence Stroll, despite having a paid seat, he fought hard. He worked his ass off every weekend to earn points for the team, he put effort in that not many other paid drivers would. He loved this sport, he loved racing, and you could see that even when you sat at home and watched the race from the comfort of your living room.

His effort in F1 seemed to go unnoticed a lot of the time. He had Seb as a teammate the last few years and now he was with Fernando. Two very prominent names and yes, two incredible drivers that helped him out immensely, but the attention always went to them.

So yeah, you felt bad for him.

You couldn’t relate to the driving aspect, but you understood what it was like being in someone's shadow. Something that you never once blamed Lewis for, just like you knew Lance would never blame Seb or Fernando.

It was just the cards you had been dealt, it was the fate you found yourself accepting.

You didn’t think twice before cupping your hand around your lips, calling out to Lance, “Hey!”

He turned right before reaching the paddock, eyebrows raised, but when your mouth curved into a warm smile, he reciprocated it before you even said anything else.

“Good luck this weekend,” you said and he chuckled, yelling a ‘thank you’ in response.

Four little words, but it showed him that someone was on his side.

And that someone was you, which Lance needed a second to process as he walked through the paddock.

He admired you, really.

He had been following you on social media for a while, he saw the work you put into Lewis’ organisations, how much of a role model you aspired to be. He liked the calming aura you carried into the paddock, it was something that drew Lance to you from day one.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t afraid to talk to you, maybe that’s why you were one of the few people he didn’t shy away from. He hated crowds, he hated the obligations that came with being a driver, he hated struggling to find the right words to say when a camera was shoved in his face.

But you were different.

He could spot you halfway down the paddock and it made his job a little easier.

And if he just so happened to perform better when you were in attendance, well, no one really had any issues with that. No one even knew you were the reason behind it, behind his insane lap times during practices, behind his incredible qualifying finish that put him third behind Max and Checo.

Almost everyone was clueless, and that included Lance.

The one person who wasn’t clueless, was Lewis.

He bumped into Lance in the paddock, it was nearing sunset on that Saturday before the race and you had already gone back to the hotel at this point, telling Lewis you’ll see him later and congratulating on his P5 grid position.

Now, unlike you, Lewis was intimidating. Sure, he was probably the nicest driver in the paddock and wore his heart on his sleeve, but the man held seven world championship titles and knew a thing or two about racing.

So naturally, when Lewis approached him, Lance stood up straighter, slid his phone into his pocket and was ready to listen to whatever the British driver had to say.

“P3, mate, good job,” Lewis congratulated him, arm going around his shoulders to pat his back as they walked through the paddock.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance smiled. “It was close there, in that last session. I just lucked out.”

“Nah it’s not luck,” Lewis laughed. “You’re a good driver. It’s only right you’re fighting for the big points.”

Lewis was a fierce competitor, but he showed every driver on the grid the respect they deserved. Lance was appreciative of his words, but it also left him stunned in response.

You were easier to talk to than your brother, that’s for sure.

“You’re doing well this year,” he then pointed out.

Ideally, Lance would have liked to be doing better. It was September and he found himself seventh in the standings. Better than last year, for sure, but Lance expected more of himself, more from the car.

But what was he supposed to say to Lewis, ‘I disagree’? Lance just thanked him again.

“Do you know what I’ve noticed?" Lewis, still with one arm around Lance, laughed quietly to himself. It wasn’t threatening by any means, but Lance felt like he was missing something, he wasn’t in on whatever Lewis found so funny.

“What’ve you noticed?” He asked.

Lewis nodded and he stopped walking. Lance did too and watched as Lewis tried to hide the faint smirk on his lips, tried, but failing

“You do better when my sister’s around.”

Again, Lance was unsure how to respond. This wasn’t something he could agree with or find an answer for, it honestly wasn’t even something he’d thought about.

But Lewis’ face said it all.

He had noticed the way the Canadian driver worked his way up the grid faster if you were watching the race. He kept track of Lance’s starting positions when you were in attendance compared to when you weren’t. He saw the way Lance, all around, was in a better mood and had a better weekend, if you were there.

“I don’t-” Lance shook his head, thinking maybe he had done something wrong. He didn’t want to cross any lines, he respected Lewis, respected you, your whole family. Why was he suddenly nervous that Lewis had caught onto something that had gone right over his own head?

Lewis continued on, not giving Lance a chance to defend himself or argue that he was wrong, “So you like her?”

Again, Lance struggled to get a proper sentence out, “No, I mean- I do, but not like-” he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what the right thing to say here is, man.”

Lewis found humour at how on edge Lance became all of a sudden. His intention was not to get in his head or make him stutter, but it was entertaining.

“She’s-” Lance swallowed, “Nice. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Lewis repeated, still stifling his laughter. “Yeah, tell her that mate, I’m sure that’ll win her over.”

“What, I’m not-” Lance shook his head again, that was all he could seem to do. He felt the need to defend himself, for something he had no control over, “I’m not trying to win her over.”

“Okay,” the older driver nodded, figuring now was probably the time to quit playing mind games. He patted Lance’s arm, “Just saying, if you did want to win her over, you probably wouldn’t have to try that hard. I think she likes you too.”

Lewis let those words sit with Lance as he turned and walked towards the gates of the paddock, leaving the Aston Martin driver standing in the middle of the walkway, repeating the sentence in his head over and over again.

‘I think she likes you too.’

When Lewis returned to the hotel, you were in the lobby scrolling through your phone. Lewis plopped down next to you, arm resting over the back of the couch and when you eventually looked up, you noticed the devious little expression on his face.

“What?” You asked, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lewis sighed, “I guess if you wanted, you could call me-” he raised his hands in front of him, mimicking the motion of shooting an arrow. “-cupid.” And then he looked at you, with that same mischievous grin.

Now you were really confused.

“Who the fuck are you playing cupid for?”

Lewis hesitated, “Lance.”

That was certainly not the name you expected to hear.

“Lance?” You repeated. “Lance and who?”

“Lance and that girl who always lingers in the paddock when he’s nearby and gives him a more genuine smile than she gives her own brother.”

It took a second for it to hit you and then you hit him, smacking your older brother in the chest as he just took the abuse and laughed.

“Am I wrong?” Lewis asked, still unable to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Your reaction to your unrecognised feelings was so much better than Lance's. “Come on, Y/N, I’ve seen it for months now.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest in a very childlike form. Avoiding eye contact with Lewis made this conversation easier, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up.

“So you’re telling me you don’t like him?” He questioned. “That you don’t have feelings for that pale Canadian?”

The thing was, you probably did. You just never let yourself think about it. You didn’t spend enough time around him or go to enough races to let yourself sit in those feelings or act on it. You exchanged a smile and kind words when you were around each other, but it never went any further than that and you never let yourself hope that it would.

There was no point, you’d both be gone after the race weekends, back to your lives, your respected homes.

“I think you’re delusional,” you turned this around on Lewis instead of facing what was right in front of you.

Quite literally, right in front of you.

You looked across the lobby right as Lance was walking inside, looking down at his phone as he lugged a backpack over his shoulder. You felt Lewis nudged your side and in response you hit his hand out of the way, inching closer to the corner of the couch.

And then Lance looked up, his eyes finding yours almost instantly.

It was hard to put into words how you felt because up until now, you refused to admit you felt anything. You took the smiles and glances in the paddock as a sign of friendship, nothing more.

All of a sudden, it was naive to think those moments were just friendly.

You didn’t want to admit anything, you didn’t want to have feelings for a driver who lived on the other side of the world. You didn’t want to look at him and imagine a future where you’d be standing in his garage, attending events at his side, holding his hand when the pressure of the crowds and cameras became unbearable because as long as you could squeeze his fingers and let him know you were with him, it would be easier to breathe, for both of you to breathe.

Oh, you were fucked.

Because that was all you wanted.

You just didn't realise it until now.

Lance sent you a shy smile, purposely avoiding Lewis’ knowing stare and devious smirk as he walked towards the elevators. You felt yet another nudge in your side and it was at this moment, you couldn’t tell if you hated or loved having Lewis as your brother.

The teasing you could do without.

But if it weren’t for him, would you have ever let yourself accept that you did feel something for Lance? Or did it take Lewis pointing it out for you to realise it was impossible to ignore?

“So are you going to do anything?” Lewis asked and you really didn’t have an answer.

All you could do was shrug and tell him that you’ll sleep on it. You told yourself that if you saw him in the paddock tomorrow and still felt that pull towards him, still thought about what it would be like to act on those feelings, then maybe, just maybe, you might do something.

But Monza ended up being a wild race to follow. You barely left the Mercedes motorhome in the morning, the race was littered with yellow flags and your focus was on Lewis and his fight rather than trying to find time to see the Aston Martin driver.

In fact, your attention didn’t even go towards him until the end of the race neared and you noticed he was sitting in fourth place. In the back of your mind, you rooted that he would podium, but when Lewis finished second, you celebrated with him and his team. You didn’t give yourself a chance to think about Lance and his fourth place finish.

You didn’t see Lance in person at all on Sunday and you took that as a sign.

A sign that whatever Lewis put in your head last night was not something you needed to act on.

You stayed in London during the next three races. While Lewis did invite you to come with, he always did, travelling from Singapore to Japan to Qatar seemed exhausting and you could support your brother from the comfort of your flat in London.

Lance noticed your lack of presence in the paddock though.

He didn’t want Lewis’ words to get to him, but they did. He tried to perform his best during those races, but the most he could do was pull off a P5 finish in Japan. In Singapore he finished 7th and he had to retire in Qatar.

Maybe he did do better when you were there.

Lance knew he should have acted on Lewis’ advice to make a move, win you over, when he had the chance to, when you were both in Monza, but you slipped right through his fingers. He saw you once in the morning, when you were walking into the Mercedes motorhome, but you were balancing a phone between your shoulder and cheek and Lance couldn’t bring himself to interrupt you. Not when he didn’t even have an idea as to what to say.

It was Monday morning in Qatar and Lance was at the airport when he pulled out his phone and mindlessly opened up Instagram. Was he hoping to see a new post from you? Yes, but he would never admit that out loud.

But he saw it. A photo with a group of your friends at some restaurant in London. Your smile was illuminating, you were having fun, you were enjoying yourself.

Lance was envious. Not because he wasn’t enjoying himself, but because he wanted to be there with you, he wanted to know what it was that made your head tilt back in laughter at the same time the photo was taken.

“She’s going to New York.”

Lance looked up from where he sat in the secluded corner of the private lounge. It wasn’t uncommon to run into a driver or two in the airport the morning after a race, and it was more common to see them in the designated first-class lounges too.

Lewis sat down across from him, eyeing the phone in his hands. He must have been behind lance when he was hovering his thumb over your photos, trying to decide if liking it crossed some sort of line. He was cautious. He didn’t want to overstep, especially with Lewis watching the two of you like you were some sort of blockbuster movie and he had front row seats.

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated, doing his best to keep the sly grin off his face. “And then she’ll be in Austin for the race, but she’s going to New York first.”

Lance sighed, carefully treading the waters, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you didn’t do anything in Monza.”

“Do anything?” He asked, but the clarification was just for appearances. They both knew what Lewis was referring to.

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated for the final time, palms hitting his legs before he stood up. “Do whatever you want with that information.” He patted Lance on the shoulder as he walked towards the opposite end of the room, letting Lance sit there in tense uncertainty.

It would be stupid for Lance to go to New York, wouldn’t it?

It would be stupid for Lance to go home to Montreal only to stare at his phone when you posted a photo of a restaurant in New York and then something on your story of the lobby of a hotel that Lance was fairly certain was the Mandarin Oriental in Manhattan because he had stayed there before and the walls looked horribly familiar.

It would be incredibly stupid of him to call up his friend who just so happened to live in Manhattan and make up some bullshit excuse that he was visiting the city and how it would be fun to catch a Rangers game, that way he had a reason to post New York on his story without it being too obvious that he was in New York the same time you were.

Lance knew that all of this was childish. Book a last minute trip to New York in hopes that it would get your attention? Who did that?

Lance, apparently.

You were in your hotel room on Saturday night when Lewis texted you. There were no words, just a screenshot of an instagram story that clearly showed Lance in attendance at a hockey game. You texted back saying ‘stop trying to play cupid’.

But you had to admit, you were a little happy to hear that Lance was in the same city as you after not seeing him for over a month.

You could have let it be, let fate decide whether or not you two would run into each other, but sometimes fate needed a little push.

So when you went out for drinks with a friend that night, you made sure to publicly post which lounge you were at.

To anyone on the outside, you and Lance were sharing your personal lives on social media, something that you often did anyway, but Lance was an introvert, so this caught the curious eyes of a few of his friends and fans.

No one had an idea that this was the two of you communicating. That this was you saying I’m here, come find me, knowing that Lance would see and respond.

His friend invited him to a bar after the hockey game, but Lance said he had other plans, which he did. He wanted to find you. He ordered a car to the restaurant you had posted on your story and it wasn’t long until he was wandering through the booths, keeping an eye out for you and your friends.

When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Lance got his hopes up. Thinking that finally timing would work out in his favour.

But it was one of your friends. He recognised her from the pictures you shared. She had a glass and her phone balanced in one hand and she eyed up the Aston Martin driver with a bit of hesitation.

“Lance, right?” She asked, having recognised him as well. “I’m Y/N’s friend.”

“Is she-” he glanced up, one more look around the lounge. “Is she here?”

“She left about ten minutes ago,” your friend nodded, sounding about as disappointed as he felt. “She really thought you’d show up.”

“Yeah, fate’s not on our side I guess,” Lance tried to laugh it off, raising his hand up to scratch the hair on the back of his head. He then realised just how underdressed he was for this lounge, repping a Rangers jersey while everyone here was dressed with the intention of leaving a good impression. He didn't even think about changing first, he just wanted to find you.

Lance headed back to his hotel, trying to ignore the pitiful look from your friend. It seemed like a few people in your life wanted the two of you to finally connect outside the paddock.

But it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone when the paddock was what finally brought you together.

You left New York the next day, heading straight to Texas to meet Lewis. He had work to do aside from Formula 1 obligations, work that involved his charities and that also involved you. So while you went to the Southern state earlier than expected, Lance was stuck in New York, trying to figure out his next move.

And you were also trying to piece together what was going to happen next.

Your friend had texted you, saying Lance did end up showing up after you left and you wanted to scream into the void, asking yourself why didn’t you just hold off a little longer.

You could have taken it as a sign. Another reason why you should just push your feelings aside. You two just couldn’t seem to get it right.

Lance entered the paddock on Friday morning, holding his card against the gate scanner. Sunglasses covered his face from the scolding sun, but there wasn’t much he could do to get away from the cameras that lined the walkway.

He waited until after the morning briefing to look for a hideout, something he did at most races. Just a place to breathe if he needed it and right now he did.

Was he intentionally walking in the direction of the Mercedes motorhome in hopes that he would spot you? Lance would say no, but the all-knowing smirk Lewis gave him when they passed each other said otherwise.

Lance had just walked past Mercedes when the doors to the motorhome opened and you stepped out, shielding your phone screen from the sun with your hand as you tried to read the text Lewis sent you.

‘Come outside, turn right.’

You looked right, expecting to see Lewis, because why else would he tell you to go outside?

But instead you recognized the green Aston Martin t-shirt in the soon to be growing crowd and you knew that, even though you had just missed each other once again, you couldn’t take this as a sign to go back inside and wait for the next chance encounter.

You had to make your own fate.

You walked down the steps and picked up your pace until you reached Lance. He had one of his airpods in, so he didn’t hear you approach from behind but he did feel the faint touch of a hand on his arm, guiding him to stop walking.

Lance took the airpod out and looked at you. Eyebrows slightly pinched together as he tried to figure out if now, here, in the paddock was the right time to do something, to finally let those feelings he had for you win.

“Hi,” you breathed out.

And then you smiled and Lance knew he was done for.

He was tired of waiting too, tired of dancing around the idea of you and him. This is what he wanted and he knew now, this was what you wanted.

“Hi,” he smiled back, absolutely glowing under the Austin sun, but he could say the same thing about you. Lance glanced down the paddock, “I was just going for a walk. Did you want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

The lack of hesitation on your part gave Lance the confidence he needed to keep going, to not let this be restricted to just race weekends.

“What are you doing later?” He asked, and then laughed at the ridiculousness of his question. “I mean, after practice? Do you- do you have plans? Do you have dinner plans?”

You liked that he was a little awkward and a little unsure. He was cute, he was sweet, he was standing right in front of you after god knows how long you spent denying that he wasn’t anything more than someone you smiled at in passing.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, keeping the teasing tone to a minimum. You weren’t Lewis, you didn’t want him to overthink the idea of you two being together.

Lance nodded, “I guess I am.”

Your smile grew, which was a response in itself. The two of you probably looked like young idiots as you stood in the paddock, both too giddy to get another word out. But that’s how it was supposed to be. You wanted to be with someone who made it hard for you to put together a sentence, you wanted to be with someone who made you smile so much you felt the discomfort in your cheeks. You wanted to be with someone who wanted you as much as you wanted them.

And Lance was that someone.

---

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, chloestroll and 65,827 others

tagged: lance_stroll

ynhamilton something about fate?

view all 6,182 comments

lance_stroll life is better with you in it

lewishamilton you are welcome

danielricciardo this was your doing? lewishamilton just call me cupid

chloestroll the cutesttt

tbh im not in love with this and there will probably be another lance one shot coming soon to make up for it

#lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fic #lance stroll one shot #ln18 #f1 one shot #f1 requests #lance stroll

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mysticeclipses · 1 month ago

Text

Comforts For The Troubled Mind

This fic was inspired by this thought from @nekrosmos

Well, since my last fic was Nik comforting Price, I thought to myself, 'What about one where Price is comforting Nik?' Can you tell I'm developing an obsession?

This had to be one of the most exhausting days Nikolai had experienced in a very long time, and that was saying something considering how much running around he had been doing these past few weeks. As an international arms dealer, the leader of Chimera, and so called ‘taxi service’ for Task Force 141, running back and forth between countries in his trusty Black Hawk helicopter became the norm for his life after so many years in his line of work. Yet with so many years of experience under his belt, Nikolai could feel these past few weeks really starting to weigh down on his shoulders, and today was the final straw that made him realize just how much he was exhausting himself for the sake of everyone else around him that needed his help.

Waking up during the early morning hours at Urzikstan, Nikolai freshened up to the best of his ability before quickly busying himself with a meeting with his fellow Chimera operators, having spent the last few days picking up Krueger, Syd, and Yegor so they could join Farah and Iskra at their base. Trying to do a virtual meeting with all of them scattered across the globe just would not work out well, so of course, Nikolai volunteered to fly out and grab everyone instead of having them spend an unnecessary amount of money on plane tickets to Urzikstan. A bit tiring for the man, but he had spent longer in his helicopter, so this was nothing at the end of the day. During the meeting, where they had been trying to come up with a plan on how to counter an attack made by Al Qatala in recent weeks, Nikolai couldn’t help but be constantly glancing at his phone.

Nikolai was anticipating a phone call or message from one of his associates in Germany about an arms deal that he needed to be at, yet his men had been radio silent, which wasn’t a good sign for what was to come in Nik’s mind. Still, he tried to push away the negative thoughts and put more of his focus on the task at hand, working to devise a plan that would work regardless as to whether or not he would still be around to fight with his team. When that phone call finally came through, Nikolai would finally allow himself to breathe a small sigh of relief knowing that his buyer was now on his way to the meet point, turning his attention back to the papers Farah had laid out on a table as they put the final touches on their plan. Only a few small details had to be changed now that Nikolai had his confirmation call, and once everything was in place, he said his farewells to everyone before rushing off to his helicopter under the morning sun.

With Farah having assured Nikolai that she would take care of returning everyone back home once they were finished with their plan, he assumed that this would finally take some stress off his shoulders as he headed towards Germany to get this arms deal over and done with. Oh how wrong he had been. The flight from Urzikstan to Germany took longer than Nikolai had initially thought it would, making him regret not eating something while still on Farah’s base when he finally landed, the sun having neared its peak in the sky. Checking on the goods that were stored in the back of the helicopter, Nikolai couldn’t help but grumble as he saw the bullets for the gun he was trading were now scattered around the inside of the briefcase, now having to spend precious minutes searching for all of them and tucking them back into the right pocket. Nikolai wouldn’t stand delivering products that didn’t represent his professionalism and the efforts he went through to obtain such weapons.

After giving the gun a final once-over just to make sure it was still intact, Nikolai shut the briefcase and hopped out of his helicopter, making his way to the small town where he would be meeting with his client. Of course, Nikolai had to stop at a small corner shop to grab something to eat before he even dared join the meeting, as a hungry Nikolai was a snippy Nikolai, and he knew the deal would be impossible to make if he was in such a state. One drei im weggla and a franzbrötchen later, and Nikolai’s hunger was satiated for the time being, quickly checking his face in a window to make sure he had no food remnants before finally coming up to the right building. It took long enough for Nikolai to get here, smoothing out any hairs that were out of place before heading inside and making his way to the meeting room, taking a mental note of any people he passed by as well. Even after so many years of being an arms dealer and having gained both respect and fear from those around him in this underworld, Nikolai still wouldn’t risk letting his guard down during trades.

Stepping past the metal door, Nikolai instinctively squared his shoulders as he saw the four men on the other side of the table, immediately picking out the supposed ‘leader’ from the quartet as he took a seat next to his own associates. This was exactly what Nikolai had expected to see, but what he didn’t expect was for each of the men to be of different nationalities, something he picked up on as he listened to their hushed conversations. The ‘leader’ was German, as expected, yet the man on his right was French, the man closest to his left was Filipino, and the man farthest to his left was Ecuadorian. None of those facts were issues to Nikolai, he had worked with people all over the globe for multiple jobs, so he was used to being in groups where no two people had the same background. No, the issue Nikolai noticed was the fact that they were much more keen on speaking in their native languages, and only their native languages. Again, Nikolai didn’t have an issue with that, and he could even understand why they would do so, as it was easier to say what you didn’t want others to know by speaking in other languages.

Even though Nikolai could understand what they were saying, he didn’t anticipate having to switch between German, French, Filipino, and Spanish when he wanted to converse with them about the deal. He had to repeat the same sentences four times over, speaking to each of the men individually instead of as a group, which was stressing his already stressed mind. Nikolai had already started growing a small headache from switching back and forth between English and Arabic back in Urzikstan, and now he had to go back and forth between four different languages? It would be a miracle if Nikolai didn’t leave this meeting without a much more aggressive headache. But of course, as fate would have it, Nikolai just wasn’t able to get a break.

That headache, which had started out as nothing more than a dull pulsing in the back of his skull that was easy to ignore, had now grown into an all-encompassing pressure around Nikolai’s head that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. Switching between four different languages wasn’t helping in the slightest, but what’s worse was the fact that the man who had called Nikolai for this deal didn’t even have the money to afford the damn thing! What a complete waste of time this had been, and Nikolai wasn’t afraid to make the sentiment known, cursing the four men out in all eight languages he knew before handing the suitcase with the gun off to one of his associates so he could leave. Of course, the men weren’t exactly happy with Nikolai’s words, nor were they happy to be leaving without the gun, so what else was there to do but open fire on Nikolai and his associates in a desperate attempt to get what they wanted? What a big mistake that was, as Nikolai was never unarmed walking into deals, and all it took were a few well-trained shots before the four men were nothing more than new tallies tacked onto his already extensive tally list of kills. And what a waste of four useful bullets too.

With a heavy exhale, Nikolai simply waved his associates in the direction of the bodies before leaving the room, wiping a few drops of blood off his leather jacket in the process. He trusted his associates to take care of putting the gun in a safe place until they got a new buyer, so now, all that was left for Nikolai right now was to get back to the United Kingdom and the base of Task Force 141 to finally get a break. Another flight that would last several hours wasn’t something that sounded overly thrilling to Nikolai, especially not with such an aggressive headache, but he didn’t exactly have any other choices. At least Nikolai had wisely snagged a couple bottles of water before making the trek back to his helicopter, and he took some time to enjoy the scenery as well since, to his knowledge, he didn’t have to rush anywhere. The fresh air was helping Nikolai’s headache a bit, though he would’ve preferred to have some sort of pain killer. Oh well, at least he could look forward to an ice pack and some peace and quiet once he got back to the Task Force base, maybe even a good meal so long as their fridge had actual food in it and not just week old rations.

The flight back to the United Kingdom was just as uneventful as Nikolai had imagined it would be, and he wouldn’t have it any other way to be honest. Even though the long flight was tiring, and Nikolai’s joints were definitely starting to feel the ache from sitting in the same chair for so many hours, he was just relieved to finally be back to a place of familiarity. And perhaps he was also looking forward to spending some quality time with a certain captain. It didn’t take long for Nikolai’s thoughts to be consumed by John Price and everything he had been missing about the man during these long weeks away. His hearty chuckle, his strong arms, his gentle eyes, the scratch of his facial hair when they shared a tender kiss, the warmth that filled the bed when they laid together, the gentle crinkling of his eyes when he smiled, the healthy thumping of his heart that easily lulled Nikolai to sleep, the way he just made Nikolai feel so at ease. God, Nikolai couldn’t wait much longer to get back on base.

Thankfully, Nikolai managed to land on the base of Task Force 141 as the sun was reaching the end of its descent, painting the sky in gentle shades of greens, blues, and purples with only hints of yellows and oranges. It truly was a gorgeous sight to behold, and Nikolai wished he could share it with John, hopping out of his helicopter to finally stretch his tired joints out. It didn’t take long for Nikolai to notice Price and his team were missing from base, though he just assumed they were out on an op, looking around his hanger for some pain killers he knew were stashed somewhere among his tools and spare helicopter parts. Maybe Nikolai should’ve taken some time to organize the place now that he really thought about it, as he was struggling to find those painkillers, and he could feel his headache coming back thanks to the sounds of tools being knocked into helicopter parts. Still, Nikolai tried to think positively as he continued digging around the disorganization. A warm meal, a comfortable bed, a nice movie, John in his arms, maybe even a bit of stress relief if you could catch his drift. Nikolai wanted to feel John’s bare skin beneath his fingers, John’s well-built muscles in his palms, John’s warm breath against his neck, John’s quiet pants in his ear, John’s ass against his-“Nikolai!”

Laswell’s voice startled Nikolai out of his thoughts, quickly attempting to stand up just to smack his head against the underside of the cabinet he had been searching in, letting out a string of muttered curses before getting out from the cabinet and standing to face Laswell. “Ah, Laswell, is nice to see you again.” Nikolai grunted as he rubbed the top of his head, trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice as he noticed a paper in Laswell’s hand that was now held out in his direction, taking it hesitantly before looking at what she had written. “The team needs your help getting back from an operation. We got false information about the location of some stolen weapons and they’re pinned down under enemy fire. You need to get them out before enemies close in on them.” Of course, Nikolai shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up about finally getting to relax. This was Task Force 141 afterall. “Understood. I will have them back shortly.” Nikolai simply nodded as Laswell before turning around and getting back into his helicopter, punching the coordinates into the gps before taking off for, hopefully, the last time today. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes for Nikolai to make it to the destination, and he knew he was getting close thanks to the sounds of gunfire, which was doing wonders for his headache.

Every gunshot made Nikolai’s head throb in pain, and as he lowered the helicopter to where John and his team were pinned down, the throbbing continued to intensify until it felt like thousands of hammers were constantly coming down on his skull. At least Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap got into the helicopter quickly, allowing Nikolai to take back to the air and get them back to base without much of a hassle, though the sound of bullets hitting the helicopter rang in his ears for much longer than he appreciated. Nikolai simply offered the team of grunt to acknowledge their presence before spacing out for the rest of the flight, his body acting without thought once he had landed back on base. Hopping out of the helicopter, Nikolai was already walking back to his shared room with Price hot on his tail, the man speaking so fervently about the operation that it was hard to really understand with his head still pounding so aggressively. Those painkillers were forgotten about as Nikolai opened the door to their room and kicked his boots off, collapsing onto the bed without a second thought before rubbing his temples to try and reduce the intensity of his headache turned migraine.

Nikolai could still hear Price moving around and talking about the operation, but he was barely even paying attention, only realizing Price was talking to him when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. “Oi, Nik, you alright? You haven’t said a word since we landed, and your face is tense.” Price muttered with concern in his tone, reaching out to place a hand on the side of Nikolai’s head as well. “Ah, извинения, my dear. It has был долгий день and I cannot концентрат well.” Now Price knew something was up considering how Nikolai was slurring his speech and he was switching back and forth between English and Russian without realizing. Patting Nikolai’s head, Price stood up and left the room for a moment, coming back a moment later with a freshly cracked ice pack. Wordlessly, Price placed the ice pack on Nikolai’s forehead, noticing how the tension in his expression melted into relief almost instantly. Price knew that Nikolai likely wasn’t going to be up for much of a conversation, so he took it upon himself to take care of the tired Russian for the rest of the night; closing the curtains, turning off the lights, laying out some comfortable clothes, and slowly closing the door so he could place an order for food and look for a movie.

Around 30 minutes later, the food John had ordered finally got to base, and he managed to pick out a movie from the large collection that Nik had amassed over the years. Would John be able to keep up with anything going on? No, not likely, but he knew it was one of Nik’s favorite movies, so he’d manage. When John finally stepped back into the room, he was surprised to see Nik hadn’t moved a bit from where he was laying on the bed, the change of clothes remaining untouched for the time being, and the only sign that the man was even still awake was the subtle twitching of his fingers. This was a side of Nik that John rarely ever saw, but every time it showed up, it concerned John all the same. Setting the food and movie to the side for now, John shook Nik several times to get his full attention. “C’mon Nik, you know you’ll feel better once you get out of that jacket and jumpsuit. Get changed, I already got food and a movie for us.” It took a bit, but John managed to get Nik to get up from the bed and change, putting the ice pack to the side as he worked to get the movie ready on his laptop.

Once Nik was changed and the movie was ready to play, John unboxed the food and climbed into bed next to Nik, guiding the man’s head against his chest before handing him the food and setting the laptop between the two of them near the foot of the bed. John had ordered two plates of fish and chips, a bit cliche, but it was the one thing he knew would get the least amount of complaints from Nik. John made sure Nik was comfortable before pressing play and nestling the fingers of his left hand into the thick black hair, beginning to idly scratch and rub at the man’s scalp while eating with his right hand. Hearing Nik let out a deep groan of satisfaction, John couldn’t help but smile as he felt Nik slowly be reduced into a puddle of relaxation in mere minutes, the food now forgotten for the time being as he simply relished in the feeling of John’s fingers working the migraine away until it was nothing more than a fleeting afterthought. Still, Nik couldn’t help but lean into John’s touch even after his migraine had receded, the movie simply becoming background noise for the both of them as the night carried on.

Eventually, both of their meals had been finished, the two men simply basking in each other's presences even after the movie had ended and John had nudged his laptop shut with his foot. The silence did wonders for the both of them, and Nik was grateful that he could finally let his mind relax. No words had to be exchanged between the two men, John could tell what Nik needed simply by looking at him, and he was grateful for that. After the hell he had been through, it was nice to simply be taken care of by his lover, even if it wasn’t how he had initially imagined the night going. As John allowed himself to doze off, Nik nuzzled closer, tangling their legs together just so he could feel more of John’s body against his. John had always been Nik’s rock, his grounding force in life, and it was moments like these that confirmed to Nik that he held a special place in John’s heart. And he’d be damned to leave that space empty.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #cod #john price #pricenik

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