#and god forbid you're from the North

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P9)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: The reader is determined to care for Ellie and Joel as he recovers. She meets a seemingly kind man named David, and she struggles with whether to trust him or not.

Masterlist

Part 1 and 10

Author's note: God forbid I ever get straight to the point.

...........................................................

Y/N let out a gasp at Joel's bruising grip on her wrist. 

Maybe she should've warned the man before applying that much pressure to the wound.

But she was panicking, and didn't know what to do with herself.

The strings of hardly heard curses that came from Joel's mouth were like angelic sounds to the woman. 

It meant he was still alive.

And that was enough for her. 

The basement of an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was not exactly the place Y/N wanted to be, but they needed to give Joel time to heal. 

And she was more than willing to do anything for him.

For her Joel.

"Come on, come on, Joel. You gotta help me." She muttered under her breath to him.

He barely tilted his head up to her, "Leave."

Ellie looked over the woman's shoulder, "Shut up, Joel."

"And take the gun."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ellie screamed.

He reached out and grabbed Y/N's collar. With what strength he had left, he pulled her close to his face, "You go north. You go to Tommy."

She shook her head at him hurriedly, only making the man panic further. "S..sweet girl, please."

"You… you just let me stay. How am I supposed to just leave you?"

"Go. GO!" And he pushed her shoulder, making her stumble back onto the floor.

Ellie was frustrated, and went outside to give herself time to breathe.

Y/N moved back towards Joel, letting her fingers gently brush his messy curls from his face, "Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna… stay as long as I need to. Until you're ready to go again."

The gently prodding of her fingers in his hair was whisking him to sleep.

But she needed to hear his voice more before she let him finally succumb, "Joel…?"

She barely heard his replied hum.

"What um… you said you had left a note for me? Well… I was just thinking about it… What did it say?"

"You…" he swallowed, struggling to talk, "You read it when… when you get back to Jackson…"

She shook her head again, "I'm not going. I told you that."

His lips pulled into a very small smile, "You're so pretty. So… so beautiful…"

She watched his eyes close and his body finally relax as he fell asleep.

She let out a sigh, pulling Joel's jacket over his body to give him warmth.

…

Ellie let out a small cry as she tried to give Joel water.

He was still passed out cold, and she had resorted to dripping water from her fingers onto his lips in hopes that he'd take it.

Y/N walked by the sight with a sigh, before leaning down behind the girl, "You're doing alright, baby."

And she kissed Ellie on the top of the head.

Ellie couldn't remember the last time someone did that.

Or even ANY time somebody had done that for her.

"I'm gonna go out… try to hunt." Y/N said. "We're gonna need something if we stay here. Think you can hold down the fort for me, El?"

Ellie nodded. "I can do that."

She smiled, "Good. I'll be back in a few hours. Hopefully with dinner. I won't lie to you, though. I'm not as good of a shot as Joel."

Only then did Ellie finally smile. "Just… promise you'll come back?"

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna leave you, baby."

And Y/N kissed the unconscious Joel on the forehead before heading upstairs.

…

God, Y/N forgot how much she hated the cold.

Especially knowing that Joel wouldn't be able  to warm her up when she got back like he always used to.

But as luck would have it, a beautiful deer was only 20 yards from her.

She smiled, and knelt down to crouch with the gun. 

She remembered Joel's words.

Slow and steady. Gently. 

Gunshot.

Right in its head.

But as luck would have it, someone was ready to take it back with them instead.

…

David sighed, "What do you think?"

James shrugged, "Seems fine to me."

"Alright. Well, let's get it now. I reckon that whoever shot it is not far off."

David kneeled down to grab the deer.

And hear the click of a handgun against his head.

"Don't. Move."

Y/N faked bravery with her words and actions, but inside, she was terrified. 

"Drop your fucking rifles."

The men did so, and Y/N let David stand.

The two men turned around to face her.

They could see the quick rise and fall of her chest even through her heavy coat. The panic in her eyes.

"You're quite a hunter." David reasoned. "We didn't even hear you coming."

"Where the hell did you come from?" She retaliated. 

"We're not here to hurt you." David reasoned again, "Let us have 10 seconds of your time."

"Just answer the goddamn question!" 

"I'm David, this is my friend James. We're from a larger group: women, children, and we're all very, very hungry…"

"Weird," Y/N lied. "I'm from a large group, too. But, I don't steal others' game." 

"Well, even so," David tried again, "ya can't drag this back on your own."

"I can fucking try."

The man sighed, "We're not asking for charity. We can trade you for some of the deer. We have… well, what do you need?"

Y/N was actually considering his offer. Her gun lowered just barely. "…Medicine?"

She didn't notice the way James' jaw clenched.

"We do," David nodded, "Back in our village. You're welcome to follow us."

"I'm not stupid," she scoffed. "You stay with me." She nodded towards James, "He can go get it and come back. Half the deer."

David nodded, "What kind of medicine?"

She let out a shuddered breathe, watching it show in the cold air, "Uh… penicillin? For infections?"

"Alright." He turned to James, "Go talk to Howard. Bring back two bottles and a syringe. It's not code. Do as I say."

Y/N let the barrel of the gun follow James as he stepped away.

"Now, step away from the rifle."

David did so immediately. "Whose gun is that? Your husbands?"

Y/N let out a scoff. She picked up David's rifle and slung it over to shoulder along with Joel's. 

"None of your fucking business."

"Is he sick? Is that why you're out here instead of him?"

Y/N just shook her head and his antics. 

"Well, look. It's a four-mile round trip back to our settlement. It's gonna be a while before James gets back. I have some oil and matches in my pack. We could.. uh… take shelter. Start a fire."

She pursed her lips. 

The man seemed sincere.

"Alright. But you drag the deer."

…

"So, what's your name?"

Y/N scrunched up her nose as she looked down to her gun that rested on the floor near her crossed legs.

"It's hard to trust strangers. I know," David nodded. "But, I honestly mean you no harm."

She was cursing herself for her big fucking heart.

David seems to notice her internal battle. "For what it's worth, there's room for you in our group."

She shook her head, "I'm not interested in your… hunger club or whatever."

"I'm just a man tryna take care of the people who rely on me. Like… whoever is sick that's relying on you now."

"So, you're their leader?"

"Wasn't my choice. It was theirs. But… yeah."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Well, I'm a preacher. It's not a cult thing… just standard Bible stuff."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "After all this, you still believe in that?"

He smiled, "I actually started believing after the world ended."

A hint of a smile rested on the woman's face. "Interesting. Well, I'm sorry to have crossed paths with you like this. Maybe in another life, I would've joined your group. But I have my own."

David nods, "Well, I believe everything happens for a reason."

She scoffed slightly.

"It's true!" He laughed. "It does. I can prove it to you!"

She laughed, "Alright. Shoot."

"Well, we didn't expect this winter to be so harsh. Hard to find game. So, I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could. And… only three of them came back."

Oh fuck.

She tried to keep her face from showing any emotion.

"Turns out," David continued, "He was murdered by this crazy man. And get this: That crazy man was traveling with a little family. A wife and a girl."

Y/N leaned back, letting her hand slowly wander back to her gun on the floor.

"See?" David smiled. "Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun."

Her body went into flight mode, jumping up and pointing her handgun at James. But his rifle was already aimed at her.

"She's the one that killed Alec, isn't she?" James asked.

"She didn't kill anybody," David smiled. "Lower the gun."

James hesitantly did so.

Y/N felt like she was suffocating.

"Did you being the medicine?" David asked.

James nodded, "I did, but-"

"-Give it to her."

He held the medicine out, and Y/N slowly approached him and took it.

She then began to back away, deciding to go without the deer.

"I know you're not with a group," David said. "You won't survive long. I can protect you."

She shook her head. "I don't need your help. We're fine on our own."

Then, she took off in a sprint.

…

"Ellie? ELLIE!" Y/N screamed as she ran into the house.

Ellie immediately ran up the stairs to the woman, pulling her into a hug. "Did you get it?"

She shook her head, "No… I… I'm sorry. But, I got something for Joel." She pulled out the penicillin.

"What is that?"

Y/N smiled widely, "It's medicine. I got him medicine."

…

The next day, Y/N had volunteered to go out to scoop snow for Joel.

She was trying to not freak out Ellie about what had happened the previous day.

Which meant she didn't tell Ellie about it at all, and volunteered for anything that was outside of the house.

So, when a few of David's men showed up in the neighborhood, she was thankful that she was the one out there instead of her girl.

"Stay alert," David said, "If this man's not already dead, he's dangerous."

"And the girl and the woman?"

"We bring them back with us."

James sighed, "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David. We can let them go. But, we bring them back with us, they're just more mouths to feed."

"If we leave them out here, they'll die."

"Yeah," James retaliated, "Well, maybe that's God's will."

David turned to look at James, but didn't say a word.

…

"Ellie. Joel." Y/N whispered when she finally made it back to the house.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ellie worried.

"You need to stay here. Stay quiet. There are… fuck… there are men outside. I have to go." 

Y/N kneeled by Joel's head, taking it in her hands, "Wake up. Joel, honey, wake up."

She smiled as his eyelids barely opened to reveal his dark eyes.

"There are men that are coming, okay? I'm gonna lead them away from you two but if anybody makes it down here, you…" she looks up at Ellie in exasperation. "…you gotta fucking kill them. Don't… don't hesitate."

She stood, "And don't let Joel sleep."

She wanted to hold Ellie and tell her it would be okay.

She wanted to kiss Joel again and feel his warm breath on her face.

She wanted a lot of things.

But wants weren't allowed anymore.

She hurried upstairs. 

…

She knew she couldn't fight them.

And she couldn't outrun them.

Maybe she would just have to surrender herself to save them.

Then Ellie and Joel could find her. 

Or they could die in the cold.

Better than dying at the hands of these men.

She wandered down a few street, as far as she could to keep them from looking in the house that Joel slept in.

She had to fake confusion.

Her plan was in action.

When the man rounded the corner, she pretended to be tying her horse to a tree.

And she feigned surprise when she heard the clicking of their guns.

She turned around with a worried expression, "oh, shit." She murmured. "…David?"

He smiled, "You know, I never caught your name."

"Why do you want it so bad?"

He shrugged, "I just… like ya or something. You have this… way about you. You draw people in."

She shook her head, "Well… I guess you came in time."

He tilted his head in confusion, "In time… for what?"

She had to pinch herself to make the tears come, "They… they're dead."

David's face turned to one of remorse, "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. That can't be an easy feeling. A now childless widow. But don't worry." He smiled at her as he approached, "We'll take care of you."

"David…?" James asked.

He turned to look over his shoulder, "What's one more mouth, James?"

But when David turned back to Y/N, she punched him as hard as she could in his jaw.

And she ran.

It threw the men off, and they weren't sure what to do.

But as they ran after her, David's voice traveled through the cold air, "ALIVE!"

It was harder to run in the snow than she thought.

But those thoughts stopped when she hit a brick wall.

James.

He grabbed her throat, cutting off her air supply.

She gasped under his grip until her face started to lose color.

Now real tears were falling from her eyes.

Especially when she felt her body give way.

David made his way over to the unconscious body. He picked her up gently before turning to the men. "You want vengeance? Go door to door. Find him. Deliver it."

And the preacher began to walk back to camp with Joel's most delicate and precious possession in his arms.

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Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 3: Yandere Hawks

Did you know? That Fukuoka has the highest concentration of winged Quirks in Japan? Most of them in or around Kyushu. It's a remarkably recent thing too. Used to be farther north, but that slowly died off when the Hero Rising Wing died in action.

Wanna know WHY?

It's because of the fuckin Gyms.

The markets. The specialty doctors offices. The clothing lines that cater to people who have LIMBS sticking out if their backs. All of those? Yeah, they picked up and looked for the next Hero to slap a brand deal on. Because GOD FORBID they serve the community that already existed and needed them.

So folks had to move. Sell their houses.

It was that or take the train for hours each day, after all.

Because? Again. No license? Who CARES if your health suffers! Fucking WALK. Dangerous muscle atrophy and spinal problems? Should have thought about being a HERO! Bleed for the state!

You're not bitter.

You're just routinely pissed enough to spit shards of GLASS.

Doesn't help that YOUR quirk? Oh, YOUR Quirk is one of the BIG ones. One of those "why yes, I CAN bench press a small vehicle, why do you ask?" Sorta quirks. The upkeep is a NIGHTMARE. You live in a god damned SHOEBOX.

You HAVE too! Because FUCKING INSURANCE doesn't cover "frivolous" "luxury" expenses like your Hero-grade gym membership. Which you only NEED because you'd BREAK the normal machines at a standard Avian Quirk Specialty Gym. But good luck trying to agree with the BIGOTS at-!!!

.....breathe. Just.... just breath. In, then out, in, then out.

Not Worth it.

This is workout time. De-stress. Getting to stretch your wings. Work up a swea-OH MOTHER FUCKER!!

Hawks bats his eyelashs, obnoxiously in your opinion, at you and twiddle his fingers in a cheeky lil shit wave. No. NO. This is you day OFF from community service. You were supposed to be FREE of him! How is he HERE?!

You look him dead in the eyes and project MURDER.

His obnoxious grin gets bigger. It's like he WANTS you to fight him! Is... is this bullying? Are you being BULLIED? You're on fuckin PAROLE. The flesh may be so, SO willing to slam him face first through a wall... but the spirit DOESNT WANT TO GO TO JAIL. His ass ain't worth it!

Leave you crimson ass, crow demon! FUCK OFF!

He pouts exaggeratedly at you. Dramatic and fake as shit. "Aaaw, aren't we FRIENDS? Don't you want to hang ooooout~?" NO! I would sell you back to whatever hell dimension you crawled from, for a toothpick I DONT EVEN WANT!

He looks delighted.

Stop that!

You try and ignore him. Finish your work out. But he is so, SO clingy and whiny and LOUD. He's doing on purpose. You know he is. HE knows, you know, he is. You can see it in his eyes. It's the fucking malicious little sparkle.

Is he getting OFF on this? What, does he just LIKE to harrass people? Pick at them?

If he keeps fucking around, he's GONNA find out.

You storm away the second your done. Try to lose him at the changing rooms. Fail. Now he's following you... eating greasy fried chicken... OBNOXIOUSLY. Does he HAVE to FLY while he does that?! The exaggerated noises are COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY!

You spin to rip him a new one, take one look at his smug, victorious expression... and? Actually? Enjoy your fucking chicken. Mama didn't raise a lil bitch. She had a Cutesy Pair Of Angel Wings™ her entire life. Was fetishized to FUCK and back. Learned the fine art of rage and taking no prisoners.

She? She raised a spiteful wrath child with a strong sense of justice.

Fuck yoooooooou.

You hope he CHOKES on that chicken. You begin to turn, but stop. He WAS looking annoyed that his plan didn't work. Why did he just start smirking? He looks entirely too smug and pleased. Not looking AT you. Over your head? Behind-?

"Omg, IS THAT HAWKS~♡?!"

Oh, fuck. You feel the blood drain from you face. His eyes flick down to yours. His PR, fake ass, smile has never been toothier. D...Don't do it. Don't you DARE.

He strikes a photo ready pose. Why YES HE IS~!

You desperately try to get out of the way. You've SEEN the carnage. The poor souls caught in the crossfire. High pitched squeals and thundering feet race closer from behind you. A red feather has by the front of the jacket. You stare down in betrayal. Back up in horror.

You're supposed to be a HERO!

The Fan's cometh. And with a howling curse, you get consumed by the crowd. Hawks laughs, bright and charming above the crowd. His feathers never leaving your body as you get thrown around. Shouldn't have ignored him~

But man, the face you made was pretty cute, too.

Following you was a great idea! He should do it more often~♡

[wosofutbolfan]

Does anyone else see the problem here or is it my Northern, London-hating bias?

God forbid you're from the North East. Have to sell your house to see a game.

[voxofthevoid]

LMFAO your stupid twink ass will be obliterated by russia north korea collaboration in the next couple of years, but god forbid those pieces of shit will be denied of posting their vomit on ao3. Yall truly have a collective brain damage it's actually insane. Stick to whatever the hell you're posting on here, I don't even wanna know, seems like another proship fucker, of course

Oh, you just went from stupid to hilarious 😂

Bitchcakes, how did you even find my blog? Stalking that OG Ficbook post?

Because if you think I'm a twink and you're shocked I'm anti-censorship, you're absolutely not one of my followers.

[littlelostmabari]

I don't know if I was supposed to do these in order but I had an itch to write a happy Wyll snippet so WE'RE BREAKING THE RULES.

Thanks to @kelandrin for the lovely BG3 Pride Prompts! (Link to that post here) (Dividers here)

9. First Meeting

Pairing: Wyll x Tav

Warnings: No warnings, unless you're squeamish about undead.

Word count: 1.4k

Arctavius swung down from the ledge above the brawl, shoving the ghast back with two feet and the momentum of his arc. Fighting unarmed had its downsides — namely that he was going to have to breathe in the nasty beast’s odor in order to get close enough to strike. His next blow failed to land, but the second shattered something within the creature and caused it to reel. Stunned. Good.

The momentary relief allowed him to survey the rest of the battlefield. Whoever this fighter was, taking on this horde of undead, was both extremely skilled and extremely stupid. There were too many of them to have taken them on alone. 

That's alright, Arctavius always loved an underdog. 

That's why he had entered the fray from his hunting perch in the ruined tower above the battle. It definitely wasn't that the man in front of him was easily the best swordsman he'd seen in an age, and losing such talent would be a waste. And it certainly wasn't that the man’s cheerful taunts fell on ears too dead to understand them, and yet he persisted. 

And gods forbid, it wasn't because Arctavius had a thing for tieflings. His eyes darted across the curve of the swordsman's horns and ornamented black — no, deep brown — locs that draped across his forehead and down over his shoulders. He allowed his gaze to be drawn down across the man's neck and shoulders, down down down to his bare muscled forearm to his wrist and hand and the rapier that he used as an extension of his own body. 

Nope, it definitely wasn't that the man was terribly, infuriatingly attractive. So much so that the recovered ghast got a claw down the right side of his hip when he was distracted. By the sweat beading on the unblemished ochre skin of the swordsman's neck, of all things. 

Get it together, you perv.

Groaning to himself, Arctavius pushed through the pain and punched the ghast directly in the face, shoving him back ten feet into a pair of ghouls that were clambering up the side of the wall preparing to ambush the tiefling from high above. They collapsed into a pile of limbs and angry undead noises, before Arcavius gently tossed an alchemist’s fire into the lot of them. It was good that undead burned easily, but the smell would probably linger. With a grimace and a slight turn of his stomach, he turned his attention back to the other swordsman, who [with my timely intervention] was rapidly downing the rest of the undead horde, with only a death shepherd remaining. 

He locked eyes with the other warrior just long enough to realize two things — one, that his eyes were mismatched in color, one a stony gray and the other a deep fiery red, and two, that this death shepherd was going to regret its unlife choices. 

~~~

Moments after the last of the horde had keeled over, Arctavius was patting himself down to check for injuries. The claw strike was the worst of it, and he mourned the robes he had just purchased from that roving caravan. They were a soft bloody red, his favorite color, and they had cost him dearly. He let his head fall back onto his shoulders to groan into the sky. Well, all was not lost. 

His head immediately perked up and scanned the battlefield, finding that the other fighter had disappeared. He felt his ears twitch, seeking and finding sound in the bramble bushes a distance north from the ruined tower. Scrambling in that direction, he stumbled almost into the tiefling man, who turned on his heel and suddenly he was face to face with not a tiefling, but a devil. 

It was there in the features. His claws were just a little too pointed, his eyes just a little too fiery. The horns weren’t right, and the points along his jaw — while undoubtedly attractive — were more purposeful than ancestral. Arctavius started, clenching his jaw as he looked about the man, taking him in in less violent surrounds. It meant he was unnerved when the man began to speak. 

“Hah! Well met friend. Seems I got a lucky break today, you arriving when you did.” The man closed his eyes gently and bowed swiftly, his right hand clutching into a fist and beating once on his chest in a friendly salute. Arctavius noticed that his left hand never left the pommel of his rapier, and had clicked it just so it sat outside of its sheath — prepared to draw if necessary. 

Friendly, but wary. Good to know.

“Indeed!” Arctavius copied the salute but bowed further and with greater flourish. “I could not let those nasty little critters get away with … well, whatever it was they were doing.” He forced his face into a disarming grin. Its meaning didn’t escape the swordsman, whose mismatched eyes glinted fiercely. 

“Hunting my wards,” he replied, and stepped aside to reveal a scene in the bushes that Arctavius did not expect. Six children in various states of fear and courage were curled up in the brambles. A tiefling boy, not more than ten, stood with his fists up in a decent fighting stance. A pair of elven twins curled around each other deep in the huddle. The other three — a dragonborn, another tiefling, and a human — looked at him with a mix of fear and curiosity. “They’re orphans of the recent calamity. I am taking them to their new home at the druid grove in Moonrise Towers, just over the next vale.” The dragonborn child pushed past the tiefling boy in front and clung to the back of the swordsman’s tabard, his little claws pushing into the cloth and holding on tightly.

“Are we safe, Mr. Blade?”

The swordsman — Mr. Blade — still with his gentle smile and crooked head tilt, looked Arctavius up and down slowly. He must have seen something halfway decent because he pushed his rapier back into its sheath with a click and turned to kneel in front of the boy. 

“Soon, Nemrac,” he smiled. “We will be safe soon. Ser Halsin will be so happy to see you.” 

The dragonborn child grinned toothily and dug in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a well-hewn wooden mallard. “Do you think he’ll make me another bird?” Mr. Blade laughed. 

“Yes, if you ask him very nicely.”

Arctavius had no idea what to do with this little scene. It could be that this devil-man was sending children to a grisly fate… but the way they looked up at him as they crawled from the bramble was with eyes wide open to his features. Mr. Blade cooed as he picked up one of the elven twins and rested them gently on his hip. The child reached a hand up to his horn to steady themselves. Mr. Blade took their sibling in a firm grip with his other hand and turned toward Arctavius who felt suddenly like he was intruding on a family reunion. 

“Well, we had best be on our way,” Mr. Blade said with a nod. “I’d like to get the children settled before supper. Thank you for your timely kindness, Ser…” 

“Not Ser, just Arctavius. Tav to my friends.” Arctavius wasn’t quite sure why he added that last part. 

“Tav, then.” He released his hand from the standing elven child and reached out in greeting. Arctavius took his forearm. 

“Wyll Ravengard, Blade of Avernus, at your service.” His grip was unyielding, but he released quickly enough that the child was not bereft of his comfort for long. “Thank you for the help, and may the Three guide your steps.” Wyll turned to the children and began to usher them down the hillside, their trek towards Moonrise almost complete. 

Arctavius glanced back up at the tower that had been his home for three nights. He had meant to move on eventually, right? And now that his temporary sanctum smelled of burnt ghast and ghoul, he wasn’t about to sleep here again? Right? 

He scrambled up the side of the tower to his perch some forty feet in the air, stuffed everything that wasn’t food [ew, smells of ghast] into his knapsack, and scaled back down the tower. With children in tow, Wyll wasn’t moving particularly quickly. 

“Hey, Blade!?” Arctavius called as he approached. “I’m heading back toward that vale anyway, would you like the company?” It wasn’t technically the truth — he wasn’t heading in any particular direction except that which the wind took him.

Then again, maybe the wind was telling him something, as he felt his stomach drop through his feet and his breath stolen by the aforementioned breeze at the smile that Wyll Ravengard, Blade of Avernus, was wearing as he joyfully waited for Tav to catch up.

[qqueenofhades]

As an European I do love to shit on American politics of course, but at the same time, the moment you're a little bit aware of world politics as European you know to watch the USA.

Like. This is of utmost importance to us too. Look at the massive right in far right fascist ideas in Europe right now. I am willing to bet on Trump paving the way for these idiots. (In fact the night after Trump was elected, I dreamt he nuked the world outside of North America just because he felt like it).

In 2008, the crisis started in America and it spread from there. I remember watching with baited breath and it was rough. Tumblr's Americanocentrism is frustrating and unwarranted and must change, but American politics definitely DO affect the rest of the world in tangible ways. America is used as precedent. (I know you know this, mx. Queen, but idk about your followers which is why I'm saying this!)

These elections aren't just the most important to American citizens. They are extremely important to non-American too.

Ps I think it is bullshit you need to register to vote. I assume this is another Republican attempt to stop people from voting? Coming from a country where you're sent an invitation to vote when you're 18+ and they've voting offices at universities and train stations to increase the number of voters... Yikes. Fuck the Republicans and any politician abroad who supports them!

If, God forbid, American democracy was to end, the damage to both America itself, and the rest of the world, would be utterly incalculable. America is the oldest democratic republic and also the most powerful country in the world. We know the "freedom" thing is abused and misused, has been invoked to justify countless ill-omened imperial and foreign adventures, done plenty of very real harm to many places, and is built on a systemic and deliberate misreading of history. But if that's the case even in a flawed liberal democracy, how many orders of magnitude worse would it be in an unabashed theocratic fascist dictatorship? Can you even begin to imagine the damage that regime could and would do to EVERYONE?

America is a flawed, messy bitch of a country in so many ways, and it has never once actually lived up to its founding ideals. But at least it has been a democracy, and the influence it exerts on the rest of the world, for better or worse, is incalculable. It would be an absolute, unmitigated, unbearable, irreversible tragedy if fascism was allowed to have free rein here. If anyone is like "I hate America": I GET IT. I GET IT SO HARD. But if your response to that is "I don't care if it becomes openly fascist and won't act to stop that," that is a huge problem.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: The Desert has memory (Issue 22 short)

Alright guys... Back in issue 22, we got another bonus short. 

Another TALES OF KHONSHU. Moon Over Alamein. by Alan Zelenetz. 

The date is October 1942

The place is Alamein, Egypt. 

History lesson time!

This is on the Mediterranean coast and was a the location of a huge decisive battle in 1942 WWII. 

This was the beginning of the end of the Axis control in North Africa. 

(It is also where the Desert Fox Rommel and Spartan General Montgomery duked it out if you're a buff when it comes to amazing stories of generals and the complicated respect and relationships of generals.) 

History lesson aside, we open on a letter: 

"Dear Meg, 

Well, I'm seeing the front now for sure, I am. Nothing here but the dreary sands of North Africa for hundreds of miles. Rommel can't outflank us because the sea's to the north and there's a salt marsh and cliffs down south of here. So if he wants the canal at suez, he'll have to push straight through our lines. We're not about to let him do that now, are we? Kiss Mum, won't you?

-Ezzie" 

Narration: "At night the desert terrain seems to mirror the moonscape above. It is ominous, empty, pocked with craters and hillocks. It is timeless, a mystery." 

We see two soldiers out on patrol near a base camp. They are English soldiers. 

While on patrol, they come across a cave and decide to investigate. 

Following it down, they find a broken down wall that leads them into an old tomb. 

Another letter: 

"Dear Meg, 

...I don't know how to describe it. Thousands of years old. It had clearly been broken into before us, but, still, here we stood after centuries! It runs underground for miles, long tunnels and tomb upon tumb.." 

The two soldiers explore the tomb a bit and come across a Khonshu statue. 

We have another Khonshu statue everyone! This one absolutely looks different from the one in the previous issue and the one that Marc keeps in Grant's house. (It's also ripped as hell.) 

This one is clearly designed to look buff and ready for battle. Possibly to mirror the war that’s been happening in the world above. 

Ezzie and his bunkmate Davey are now travelers of the night, out on patrol. With a simple introduction, he now falls under Khonshu’s watch. 

"Under the flashlight beam the forbidding figure glistens, silvery white, for the first time in millenia. Who are these men? What do they want of Khonshu, God of the moon? Ancient Guardian of Egypt and preserver of the nile?" 

Ah yes, these are tales of Khonshu. Perhaps Khonshu himself is the narrator? He would blowhard himself, wouldn't he? 

Davey dismisses the statue and focuses in on the other valuables that would probably fetch them a lot of money. 

Ezzie is upset by this idea.

"Hey, come off O'that Davey. Have a pity--We're here to save this land, not spoil it. We aren't the bloomin' Nazis!" 

Speaking of the Nazis. We head to East Prussia where Adolf Hidler is scheming his plans. 

This is a complete old comic throwback to a caricature of Hidler. He's ugly, malformed, and yelling and going on about astrology and the placement of the full moon. 

It reminds me a bit of early Captain America war propaganda style comics. 

Hitler is talking about his destiny to rule the world and how he refuses to withdrawal from Africa. 

Another letter: 

"Dear Meg, 

Two years ago the germans were beating the hell out of us, now it's up for grabs. Tonight's the night..." 

We see two armies prepping for battle. The English preparing to drive out the Nazi and the Nazi planting mines across the desert. 

"Dear Meg, 

A thousand guns strong we opened fire on the German positions. The sound of shells was like the rumble of ten thousand drums. Muzzles flashed, mortars sparked, machine guns shattered. Flares exploded in the darkness lit up the battleground bright as day..." 

Ezzie suddenly sees the face of Khonshu in the sky, gazing down on the battlefield. 

The English prepare to charge but know there are mines waiting for them. 

Then, just before the charge, the earth suddenly splits open, setting off all the mines. 

The tomb ran below the sands where the mines were buried and, weakened by the bombardment of shells, has collapsed. The mines destroyed, there is now a clear path for the English to tred. 

Ezzie pauses for a moment before heading forward as he notices the Statue of Khonshu laying in sand now, tossed up by the broken tomb. 

"I guess he WAS on our side after all, Davey!" 

A letter in response: 

"Dear Ezzie, 

Churchill says the Battle of El Alamein is the turning point. We are winning. I am so proud of you, 

-Meg"

This short is interesting because of the historical significance of the battle and how much the North African push really affected the outcome of WWII (and how much its' often forgotten about and overlooked).

Also you do have to consider the Nazi occupancy of North Africa and wonder how much damage was done to historical sites and things of the like. How much did the battles damage? How much was lost in the shelled sands?

Then we look at it from the comic side and it's interesting how Khonshu has always chosen sides. How he will pick one person who looks at his statue in interest or with a plea for help and he will go, "Yeah okay." and help them.

How many people before Moon Knight did he consider? And why did he wait to pick Marc? Was it the death and sacrifice that gave him the power to chose him? Or was it the way he could see Jake and Steven and the potential there?

Even now, his favor of Moon Knight over all the other chosen avatars is interesting.

[terrence-silver]

Do you have any headcanons on Gus Travis? I've just watched Black Point and I think I'm in love 💖

Him?

― Gus Travis has a major problem with jealousy. Why? Because outside of having a natural propensity for doubt (maybe due to the nature of his job, being a career criminal where you have to watch your back, against everyone, at all times) his wife betrayed him in the past and ran off with another man covertly acting as an informant and Gus' boss' money. Almost sounds like the typical entanglement in the life of someone on the wrong side of law enforcement hiding out in a small port town on the borders of Alaska and Washington state, but the event left Gus reeling, even less trusting and somehow, even more territorial and fidgety when it comes to love as a mere concept. In short notes, Gus Travis is as jaded as can be.

― Which means, despite seeming like the type who has had his share of easy sex, easy cash, easy profit, murky jobs, shady deals, Gus doesn't fall in love easily. Not before the event and certainly not after. He's a rough man, with a rough exterior, rough manners, a rough job and initially, he doesn't seem like the type to care for such things at all, but the opposite is very much true because internally, he's someone who tends to fall and fall hard which has left him messed up in the past. In his words, I treated her like a princess and gave her the world and this is how she repays me? He doesn't want that happening again and so, when he meets you, his first instinct is to be standoffish and stay away from you. Better yet, warn you to say away from him.

― Might have the typical gangbanger 'Do you know who I am?' or 'Do you know who you're dealing with?' vibe about him purely to push you away, even though he's quite as likely to contradict himself and be the one pursuing you. Gus overflows with clashing emotions where he isn't certain if he'd rather scare you away or lay his claim on you and make you his. Maybe just visit some nearby, shady portside pub and get himself someone who looks just like you; a whore, a hooker, a one night stand, anything, and get you out of his system through fucking someone else, not that that helps one bit at all and everyone either looks too much like you or not at all and he always comes back to craving the real deal, and he hasn't...well, he hasn't even laid a finger on you yet.

― Thing is, as I said above, Gus loves deeply. A surprising amount for someone who could only be labeled a bad boy and something of a thug in the most classical sense. The type of love that has him tattooing your name somewhere on his body --- maybe next to his heart, perhaps way before you even know it...or him --- wearing maching clothes, wearing matching rings and bracelets and necklaces. Where he dreams of buying a boat one day, sailing out with a bunch of cash, and naming it after you, as his muse, his lucky north, his compass. Where he sees you as his near overromanticized mythical being. His mermaid. His selkie. His siren. Interesting how someone otherwise so bitter and disappointed with love also has the amazing capacity of being borderline poetically idealistic.

― Of course, the nature of his career criminal leanings and rough and tough sailor and streetwise lifestyle might not exactly allow for him to express his idealistic side outright because there's a reputation to maintain and part of him doesn't want to. And yet, he still desperately does to the point his cravings are making him volatile. He fears being a fool in love again. He fears his men viewing him as a fool in love too. So, he might come off a bit hostile and passive aggressive; like someone who has a general distaste for you, which is far from true, his behaviour ranging anywhere from acosting you in public or god forbid, anyone you might be out on a date with, because he's fatally jealous. Gus can't handle himself or the gravitas of his feelings around you and he protects himself through what he feels is nessecary. Through being a bit of a bastard.

― It doesn't remain unnoticed though; just how much attention Gus Travis is giving you, even if this attention is masked through the guise of negative social interactions. It all becomes suspicious, though. The sheer quantity and volume of it. Him stalking you, catcalling you from his car, threatening to goddamn near shoot anyone else who dares, honking his horn at you, bullying you one minute and then flirting the next, harassing your friends and suitors out in bars or restaurants, having them scared away from you or outright beat up so they'd be afraid to stay in touch with you, being pushy, intrusive, threatening and petulant, having his men follow you around covertly and report back to him on your daily whereabouts, offering to lend you money so you'd be indebted to him, breaking into your place, kidnapping attempts. You name it!

― Ultimately, you will be his, and his grip on you will be tighter than any relationship he ever had before because he dreads losing you like he's lost meanigful people in the past and it has his possessive tendencies flaring up dramatically; he will correct the mistakes he made before you came along, he swears it. Realistically, he is difficult. Very difficult. He is difficult because he overcompensates. Overcalculates. Over-worries. He questions every interaction, every glance, ever action, imaginary or real, towards someone else from you or from you to someone else because the dread of you being whisked away from under him is acute, and so, most people never even discover Gus Travis even has anyone serious as you're his most fiercely guarded treasure. Hell, not even most of his men and crooks know. And if nobody knows you exist and you're merely abducted one day --- missing posters riddling your home town, only for you never to be found again, then nobody can coax you away from him in the future.

[tsotc]

Is there anything you’d recommend in north Wales? I never really leave Scotland so I’ve no idea about it.

visit Llandudno, it's the tourism hub of north wales for a reason. there's the mines that offer tours, the alice in wonderland hunt, the trams and the cable cars, two different beaches, a pier with an arcade, an artificial ski slope, a lot of good shops, the great orme and little orme. if you've got your own transport i highly recommend visiting snowdonia national park and camping at the base of Snowdon in the summer.

conwy is also a lovely place, it's a seaside town built around its castle and has the uk's smallest house. i dont go there nearly half as much as I've been to Llandudno, mostly because its a pain to go on the buses. colwyn bay is a bit less pristine than the other two but the beach and prom are really nice and the shopping centre is decent with a market (dont expect much) every tuesday and Saturday. the beach in bae colwyn is sandy because a decade back they dredged it up from the ocean floor.

just whatever you do, do not go to rhyl. complete shithole. one of the uks lowest life expectancies. id cut off my own leg before foinf there willingly. I'm from the conwy county area (god forbid i doxx myself) so im biased towards it with tbe exception of rhyl. llanddulas doesn't have much to do in it (its an old people neighborhood, i lived there for 5 years and stayed inside the whole time), abergele has it's own beach + arcade area but you're better off going to Llandudno for a lot of things.

[quicksilverdrabbles]

In the Dead of Night...

Azazel: *gasps, sitting upright in her bedroll*

Gore: *snoring quietly, still tucked into his*

Azazel: ...

Thalmor Justiciar: Over here, this way.

Azazel: ...? Elven.. Altmeri?

Thalmor Wizard: You're sure? This looks like an average vagrant camp.

Thalmor Justiciar: Positive. Our tip seemed very insistent that these were Talos worshippers.

Azazel: Talos worshippers..?

Thalmor Wizard: Summon the others, then. Leave no survivors.

Azazel: *gasps* Gore! *backs away from the tent opening, feeling around for where he is on the ground and shaking him frantically* Gore! Get up!

Gore: Hmn- Nn- Wha-

Azazel: Get up, you oaf! We need to get out of here!

Gore: Az-? Wha-What's going- OW! Mmf! *gets slapped in the face by Azazel's hand, a quiet 'sorry!', and then silenced by the same hand covering his mouth*

Azazel: Shh!! *points behind her towards the rising sounds of the Thalmor*

Thalmor Wizard: What was that?

...

Thalmor Justiciar: Probably a pair of lovers. It is that time of night.

Thalmor Wizard: Ill-fated lovers.

Justiciar/Wizard: *snickers*

Gore: *eyes widen, grabbing Azazel's wrist and pulling her hand away from him* We need to go.

Azazel: Where??

Gore: Across the border. We're close enough to slip through into Falkreath if we can avoid them here.

Thalmor Justiciar: Ugh, but I don't want to have to kill half-naked humans. Phynaster forbid they are fully undressed.

Thalmor Wizard: Leave that tent for last then, you prude.

Azazel: ...! Wait, I might have some invisibility potion-

Gore: You just had those the whole time??

Azazel: Lass like me kind of needs multiple options, just take the stupid potion!

Gore: Wait hang on- *grabs his sword, tearing a hole in the back of the tent and peeking out to make sure no one was around* We go out here. Come on. *takes the potion from Azazel and drinks it, disappearing*

Azazel: I have no idea what you just did, I hope you know. *drinks her potion and disappears*

Gore: Just- Come on! *grabs her hand and pulls her out of the tent. Cries rise up all around the camp, and smoke begins to rise from the tents closest to the edge*

Azazel: Oh Gods, I smell smoke-

Gore: Keep going. We gotta head north.

Azazel: Right.

Gore: *takes the lead, pulling her through the forest thicket towards Skyrim*

Azazel: *trips, stepping on a branch, the invisibility potion wearing off just as the loud crack echoes through the forest*

Thalmor: Hm? Did you hear something?

Gore: Shit. *grabs Azazel by the shoulders and redirects her in a certain direction* Keep running this way and you'll get across the border to Falkreath. Keep going, and don't stop until you feel the sun rise. I'll find you.

Azazel: Wait what are you doing-

Gore: I'm gonna buy you some time.

Azazel: That's ridiculous! Gore, you can't-

Gore: I can, and will. Hurry and go!

Azazel: Wait-

Gore: *shoves her forward, pivoting on his heel and drawing his sword at the three Thalmor that step out from the shadows* Go!

Azazel: *gasps, hearing the Thalmor's laughter*

Thalmor Wizard: Found the lovers.

Thalmor Justiciar: Gross. Just kill them and be done with it.

Azazel: Gods- just don't die! *turns and runs in the direction Gore pointed her towards*

Gore: Hah. What do you take me for?

~

Azazel: *hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting. Feels the warmth of the sun on her face* Sun's up... *swallows, wiping her forehead and standing straight* ... And I have no idea where I am. Lovely.

...

Azazel: I hope I'm at least in Skyrim. Don't think I went the wrong way, at least... *sighs, trying to listen for anything unusual* ... Why is it so quiet? Where are the birds?

Thalmor Justiciar: *from afar* Come on now, that mutt couldn't have gotten far!

Azazel: !? How the hell do they keep doing that??? *turns and runs, her feet catching against roots and branches against the ground* Son of a- I've got to find Gore.. *lifts her hands in front of her, conjuring a small blue orb between them, casting Detect Life in one hand and Clairvoyance in the other* If he's alive, lead me to him.

~

Gore: *laying on the ground with his leg caught in a bear trap* ... Y'know, I can't honestly say I'm surprised anymore.

snap!

Gore: ...! Who's there? *raises his head and glares into the woods* ... Whoever you are, better come out now, s'wit, or else I'll-

Azazel: S'wit? That's rich coming from the man I presume to be laying on the floor.

Gore: Azazel!

Azazel: What are you doing down there? You weren't sleeping, were you?

Gore: ... I'm stuck.

Azazel: Stuck?

Gore: Stuck.

Azazel: .. On what, exactly?

Gore: A bear trap.

Azazel: So.. you tripped over it?

Gore: No you idiot, it caught my leg!

Azazel: ...

Gore: ...

Azazel: *snorts* And you call me the idiot?? How did that even happen?

Gore: Would you just shut up and help me-

Azazel: Fine, fine. Bite down on something, this is gonna hurt. *kneels down and feels for his leg, her touch light as she skirts over the metal and takes a hold of it* Ready? One.. Two..

Gore: Three. *grunts, wincing when Azazel pries the trap open* Ow.

Azazel: Quit being such a baby. Here. *helps him stand up, leaning him against a fallen log* Take a rest for a sec while I heal this.

Thalmor Wizard: This way, hurry!

Azazel: ... *sighs* Or not. Guess we gotta do this the hard way. Stay here.

Gore: Are you crazy?! I can fight, just-

Azazel: Sit. *a streak of magic forces him to the ground* I'll handle it.

Thalmor Wizard: I found them!

Azazel: *turns towards the sound of the three Thalmor, dark green scales bloom across her face and neck as she activates Dragonskin and flames gather at her fingers* You'll really wish you hadn't in a moment.

[jyndor]

I've seen so much theories, oh its in nemiks manifesto, maarva is going to say it while dieing... I think, or at least hope, that no one says to cassian 'rebelions are built on hope' and that phrase is never even spoken in the show, cause its one of underlying themes of the show and cassian needed yo verbalize it only when its strictly necessary to recruit 'mirror' of himself to the rebelion, imho

yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

frankly nothing good comes from taking cassian's main motivation away and having it stem from someone else, especially someone who is coded as essentially someone from the global north and white with that accent and who approaches revolution from a mostly academic point of view (nemik) or God forbid someone like maarva who is a white savior and literally stole an indigenous child, anglicized/Basicified idk lol his name, severed his connections to his culture and history and FAMILY.

cassian is a manifesto yall. anon you're totally right and I hate that some fans are doing this. it's really gross.

[millenniumbugs]

Leftists on this website will see Americans fall for obvious propaganda and then turn around and fall for obvious propaganda from other countries instead, bitches act like that China & North Korea are actually utopian societies where nothing ever goes wrong because they seem to completely lack the critical thinking skills to realize that 2 things can be varying levels of bad at the same time.

You are not better than the guy who thought the Russian sleep experiment was real if you think China , North Korea, or god forbid The fucking Russian federation , is a utopian perfect society and have Soviet propaganda as a pfp, you're both immensely fucking dense.

[ahberia]

Ailbhe Ó Carra; The War Maid

Ailbhe Ó Carra is a hero, or a monster, depending on who you're asking. To some, she's a liberator. To others, she's a psychopathic traitor. Both, though, may have some truth to them. In this post, we're going to be talking about Ailbhe Ó Carra, a general of the Bone-Crowned King and enthusiastic participant in the war against the Kingdom of God on Earth.

Born in the colonized territory of the north, specifically the Emerald Highlands that once had a prospering Human-Norstreyan mixed culture, she was a part of the second generation to be born after the Godlanders invasion. As part of this invasion, they imposed their new religious laws upon the territories, forbidding long-standing cultural practices. These included, but weren't limited to; magic, interspecies marriage, same-sex marriage, and rituals surrounding gender change. Such things, viewed as evil by the colonizers, were brutally forced upon the population.

Still, in smaller towns such as the one Ailbhe was born in, these laws were significantly weaker. Largely because none were around to enforce it. Defying the newly-imposed laws, she began to live as a woman and practice magic in secret, knowing what the punishment would be should she be caught. Unfortunately for her, she was, discovered when the Church of the Father and Son got a proper foothold in her village.

Most criminals would be given the 'merciful' (in the eyes of the Godlanders) punishment of the breaking wheel, which would absolve the guilty of their sin. For those who transgressed upon the social order in this manner, though, they instead burned at the stake. Through this, they believed, they destroyed the immortal soul of the victim, denying them penance and ascension to the Kingdom of Heaven. This is what they did to Ailbhe.

What her oppressors could not have foreseen, though, was that twenty years after her murder, she would rise from the dead as a vengeful godling.

What made this possible, was the arrival of the Bone-Crowned King. The first living, Bonafede God to ever walk the land. The reborn, last king of the conquered and colonized Norstreya, he brought to the world the Magic of Life and Death. The in-universe version of necromancy. Determined to redeem his failure and save his people, he has taken upon the task of destroying the Church of the Father and Son. Though the Ecclesiarchy claims that he wants to kill all humans, this is far from the truth. He merely wants to put an end to the chauvinism of the Godlanders once and for all.

In this task, he too raised from the dead individuals he saw to have particularly powerful souls as his demi-Liches, godlings with a parcel of his power to carry out his campaigns. One such demi-Lich would be Ailbhe, whom he also bestowed with a body that she had always desired. This was both an act of beneficence, and to give her cause to be loyal to his mission. This worked.

None live that remember the name she forsook, and she is now known to her comrades as Ailbhe Ó Carra. In Norstreyan circles, she is often called 'Dim Maðe uim Kreg', or the Maid of War. To her enemies in the Godlands, she is known as Death herself.

She rides into battle at the head of an army of mortals and the dead, atop the back of a large, white draft mare. She wears nothing but a white dress, carrying in one hand a claymore and in the other a black banner. A powerful mage, she has no need for armor. She is jubilant in battle, and carrion crows follow in the wake of her great army. It is she who descended from the Emerald Highlands, and single-handedly slaughtered the armies of the revered and until-then undefeated Lord of Scyartha. It is she who burned the holy cities of Jevor and Orstania. It is she that placed the heads of cardinals Roderick Brack and Mason Rigby upon the heads of her flag-bearing pike.

Yet, despite her reputation, she is merciful to those she conquers. Most often, when occupying a town or city, she will only destroy religious institutions, prisons, and military assets. She is a killer, yes, but it is also true that a large part of her host are apothecaries that tend to the enfeebled populace of the lands she takes. She emancipates the peasantry from their lordships, erases their debts, frees slaves, and takes care to ensure that plague and famine do not take hold. While it is true that she burned both Jevor and Orstania, these were exceptions, and not the rule.

[hematomes]

I was so confused by that because I didn't clock that he was hitting on me until that comment so it was like "he's hitting on me AND he thinks I'm a black girl?????I thought we were talking about digimon what the fuck is happening????"

Oh yeah that African thing is extra wierd cuz if you say you're African and you're black people think you live in a tribe and if you're white they think you're lying???, Like I had someone call me a colonizer,GIRL I'M NATIVE NORTH AFRICAN WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT.

Either way people are stupid, though poc especially deal with that so much more.

zbsjz bro was down bad.... for smn that didn't really exist in the end 💀

yeah no clearly it makes me so mad and same w the reverse like god forbid i tell someone im french and was born in france and never left europe in my life because oooh you're mixed where're you from wow your french is immaculate you don't have an accent!!! no shit bitch

[allbeendonebefore]

@ultimate-quartz

Every part of the tags was like a punch to the face thank you for understanding my city so well

im so happy ive reached face punching tag status thank you, thank you

ive been to ottawa three times and its like a semi-normal city wrapped around a snow globe where everyone inside the bubble thinks that it’s a microcosm of canada somehow where everyone skates to work and as long as you ignore the protesters you’re going to be Fine

but when you’re a westerner and you enter the bubble and they say LOOK we have represented the WHOLE COUNTRY from COAST TO COAST and you’re like “you drew every building from toronto to quebec city in excruciating detail and for three whole provinces you drew a rocky mountain and a haybale” and they go “nononono, that rocky mountain represents British Columbia, not the prairies, silly :^)”

[galacticwildfire]

The Storm Queen

Three

Baratheon oc x Robb Stark/Jon Snow

Cassana arrives at Winterfell and meets her betrothed, becoming more taken with him than she could have ever anticipated, while Robb quickly tries to learn how to court her properly until his fairytale is dimmed by Ned's warning of her family and their involvement in Jon Arryn's murder. The betrothal becomes public knowledge.

Word Count: 6.4k

Tags/warnings; arranged marriage, lots of fluff here, young love, cersei, drinking, no real warnings here, it's a sweet chapter

~

Cassana

We are almost at Winterfell.

I try to get a glance from the carriage window and find us approaching a small town, behind it rests the looming towers of Winterfell.

As we pass through people line the streets, cheering for their king.

"Princess!" they shout as they spot me peeking through the curtains of the carriage. An enthusiasm that is rare in Kings Landing and I realise that although I am their princess soon I will also be their lady, wed to their lord. They shall be my people.

And so I put on a smile and wave to them, warm and lovely, everything my parents are not. It's then I begin to realise my role here, to be the accessible princess while the rest of my family is so distant. To make the North feel like part of the realm.

A true role.

It makes me feel a little less bitter about the matter but as that bitterness subsides the nerves begin to surface. Especially as the gates of Winterfell grow nearer.

"Oh gods," I murmur and Tyrion laughs to himself.

"You're too worried."

We've been travelling for a month, for the most part, I've been in the carriage I share with Tyrion so I can read up on the North in peace without mother asking questions.

"Of course I'm worried," I hiss and he only looks amused. "I am meeting my husband."

"A situation that you have been dreadfully overthinking," he drawls as he closes his book. "Varys even told you that he is his fathers' son. You shouldn't be worried."

"Oh, I'm sorry, when was the last time you were married off and shipped off to the North?"

He rolls his eyes. "Cassie, you're acting like you've been sent to the Night's Watch."

"Well, it's only a little further north."

He leans forward and looks me in the eye. "You're fighting for no reason, you've wanted to get away from your mother and my father for as long as I can remember. This is your chance, a chance to have a good life."

"You sound like my father."

"And for the first time ever I've got to agree with him," he says and reluctantly I listen. "Who knows, gods forbid you might even like the boy."

I've hardly allowed myself to even consider the possibility, to get my hopes up. "But what if I don't?"

"But what if you do," he counters and sighs. "Come on, at least try to be positive. Make the best of your circumstances. At least you aren't marrying Loras Tyrell, I can hardly imagine you'd be happier having to share your husband with your uncle."

"Well I can't argue with that," I admit and he reaches across to squeeze my hand.

"I know you're nervous, but you've always known that you were born for this. I admit you were born for far greater but make the most of it."

"How do I do that?" I ask him quietly. "I don't even know if he wants this marriage."

"He's a seventeen year old boy who's been told he is marrying the princess after living in Winterfell his entire life, I can hardly imagine him not being beside himself with nerves," he assures me. "And he's not just marrying a princess, he's marrying you. If he's not thrilled then he's the stupidest man alive."

I smile to myself and squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Tyrion."

"You are Cassana Baratheon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, most admired and beloved woman alive. You will win even the most cold-hearted northerners over in a heartbeat."

His praise makes all the difference as the carriage begins to slow and I peek out to see us passing through the gates of Winterfell.

"Oh gods," I murmur wrapping the cloak that I had made out of the pelt father gave more me tightly around myself.

The Stormlands have made me used to less temperate weather but come winter I imagine the North shall be frozen, buried in ice and snow just as the Stark's words promise.

As soon as I see the crowd I immediately pull back from the window and clear my throat. "Is it too late to turn back?"

"Cassie," he says slowly. "Come on, it will be fine."

"Alright, alright," I mutter fiddling with my hair. "Do I look alright?"

His eyes soften. "You look fine, now stop your worrying and remember who you are."

My hair is done simply, it's loose aside from the braided crown I wear. It's how I prefer it anyway. I straighten my skirts suddenly oddly self-conscious, I wear a black and gold gown adorned with gold embroidery, my gold stags antler belt rests around my waist and helps show my figure.

It's ridiculous how self-conscious I suddenly am since I suppose it doesn't quite matter if he likes me or not considering neither of us has a choice in the marriage but I know that if I'm going to make the best of my circumstances I need to make a good impression. Not just on him but on all the Starks, and the North itself.

I take a deep breath to steady myself before the carriage door opens and the cold air hits me hard, startling me slightly but only for a moment.

"Oh, gods here we go," I mumble under my breath as I wear a polite smile and hold my skirts up to descend down the steps to find the Northerners bowing to us.

The crowd rises and my eyes find the man who greets my father, Ned Stark. My father blocks the view of the Stark children standing beside Ned much to my frustration.

"You've gotten fat," Father says to him only for Ned to just look him up and down until they both laugh and embrace each other.

Father looks back at me and smiles proudly as he grabs my wrist to pull me to his side rather unceremoniously. "Ned meet my daughter Cassana."

And then I see him.

Robb.

The sight of him takes my breath away, he is far more handsome than I had ever hoped for. Very, very handsome.

Suddenly I forget why I ever had objections.

He struggles to hide his nervousness as his eyes meet mine and as I smile at him I realise that I'm just as nervous as he is. Oh gods.

My attention is torn back to where it should be as my father continues his introductions. "Cassana this is Ned."

"Princess," he says taking my hand and bowing his head politely.

"Lord Stark my father has told me so much about you," I smile remembering my courtesies. "He admires you greatly."

"Don't give it away," Father teases as he pats me on the back and I laugh lightly as my eyes again meet Robb's.

"Princess Cassana this is my son Robb," Ned says as he formally introduces me to the man I shall marry.

My heart skips a beat as Robb takes my hand and presses a courteous kiss to my knuckles. "Princess."

The mere touch has me losing my composure more than any wine ever could and I never thought my body would ever react this way to a man I don't even know.

Perhaps I may actually be happier here than I could have ever dreamed of.

"Robb," I breathe as I take him in and find myself more and more entranced by him.

He's tall, well then again he is almost a proper man at seventeen. His hair is dark however it shines auburn as the light hits it. His jawline is sharp and his face is sculpted, as is his body from what I can make out under those heavy Northern clothes.

He truly is handsome.

Despite the cold, his hand is warm and so are his eyes. Those blue eyes are surprisingly kind. Eyes that are unguarded, letting me see exactly what he feels and I'm sure that very same look is reflected in my own, albeit not as obviously.

Ned clears his throat and I realise we've been looking at each other a little too long. I reluctantly release Robbs hand to address Ned's wife.

"Lady Stark it's lovely to meet you," I smile and unlike my mother, my courtesy isn't fake "Thank you for hosting us in your home."

She actually seems surprised by my warmness but considering they were likely basing their impressions of me off of my mother I'm not surprised.

"It's a pleasure to have you and your family here," she says and I can only hope I'll have a better relationship with my mother by law than my actual mother.

"Come on Ned let's leave the kids to get to know each other while we go make this official," Father says and he leaves with Ned while Catelyn followed by her youngest son escorts my mother away who's only just appeared and looks quite unimpressed.

Tyrion gives me a look and I know he'll soon be telling me 'I told you so.' Then he leaves, heading back towards the town to find what would no doubt be a brothel while the crowd begins to depart.

With my family gone I look at Robb's siblings who are still standing beside him. "Will you introduce me?"

"Of course," he says nervously "This is Sansa, Arya and Bran, Rickon the youngest left with my mother."

"Princess," Sansa smiles as she curtseys, she's a sweet young thing with the most vibrant red hair.

"Hello Lady Sansa," I smile warmly as I take her hands in mine. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen," she answers.

The poor girl will soon be of age to marry, I pray Father decides to wed Joffrey to someone who will be better trained to deal with him, not this innocent girl.

"Your hair is the most vibrant shade of red," I compliment and her eyes light up. "The most lovely."

"Thank you, your grace."

"And you two?" I ask the younger ones who resemble Robb more closely.

"Arya is eleven and Bran's ten," Robb answers fondly and immediately I can feel the warmth he has for his family. The look in his eyes says all I need to know.

"You should meet Tommen and Myrcella, they are about your age," I say to the children while I notice that Robb is trying to analyse me as much as I am him. However reading people comes easy to me, growing up in the Red Keep it's second nature to me.

"Sansa why don't you take them inside to mother," Robb suggests to not so subtly send them on their way.

Arya gives a bit of a huff but they go on their way leaving Robb and I alone in the courtyard.

"It's good to finally meet you Princess Cassana," he smiles and I can tell he definitely isn't used to having to use royal titles.

"Please just call me Cassana," I smile knowing there is little point in formalities if he is to be my husband. "And it is good to finally meet you as well."

"Cassana," he repeats a little breathlessly.

For a moment we can't meet each other's eyes and we both laugh awkwardly. What are you meant to say to the person you're meant to marry?

"My father tells me that we are to be married," I say as I look up at him not knowing where else to start.

"Mine tells me the same," he says somewhat bashfully. "I was more than a little surprised when he told me we would be marrying."

Surprised he may be but he definitely doesn't look disappointed, and much to my surprise neither am I.

"As was I but I think my father made a good choice," I boldly admit knowing that now isn't the time to be modest and proper.

I do not know what I expected, but looking at him now it's clear he is anything but. He doesn't seem like a cold, rough Northman. He still has a boyish charm to him, an innocence that doesn't exist in kings landing.

He clears his throat and colour comes to his pale cheeks as his eyes widen in surprise "Really?"

I laugh lightly. "Yes."

A smile spreads across his face that I can't help but return.

One thing I had wondered about was if I'd be marrying a man who was already experienced with women but from his nervousness, I can tell that he is not. And I happen to be inexperienced in courting as well. However, lack of experience isn't a lack of knowledge.

"Let me show you around," he offers as he extends his arm to me. "Considering that this is going to be your home."

"Happily," I smile as I take it, until now it hasn't really registered that Winterfell will be my home.

Our arms link together and his breath catches as I rest my free hand on inside his arm as I've seen many women do while courting. It certainly brings a sense of intimacy beyond courtesy.

He's not quite a proper man yet but I can feel the muscle and the strength beneath the fabric of his shirt. He is already handsome now so I know I certainly will not be complaining when he comes into proper manhood.

As we walk by people watch us but their gazes are not as friendly as I had hoped. Despite the warmness of those on the streets, I know that the Northerners have a long tense history with the crown, perhaps it wasn't forgotten after my Father claimed the throne.

Robb notices my discomfort "Northerners are wary of outsiders, even a princess, but soon this will be your home."

"It will be."

The reality of never returning to Kings Landing is finally sinking in. As much as I hate the city it is familiar and so are the people.

"I know it mustn't be easy leaving your home to come to a place you've never been," he says and I note that he's understanding, for him to even have concern shows me what kind of man he is.

"To be honest I've always wanted to leave Kings Landing, I was raised there but it was never my true home," I tell him and he listens attentively. "I always felt most at home at Storms End, but I suppose that is quite a travel from Winterfell."

"One day I'll take you back there," he promises without a second thought and I look up at him in surprise.

"You would?"

"I will," he says and I see a determination in his eyes that interests me greatly.

"Thank you, Robb," I breathe in genuine gratitude. Some of that weight, some of the fear, being lifted off my shoulders.

"Are you close with your family there?"

Already I can tell that family is very important to him in a way that I can't relate to.

"Well I'm close with my Uncle Renly but because he's on the small council he's in Kings Landing and Uncle Stannis hardly leaves Dragonstone so it's not quite the family there I miss, it's the land. Kings Landing is hot and dry but the Stormlands are wild and well stormy," I laugh lightly. "I forgot what the cold felt like before we arrived in the North."

"Just wait until winter," he chuckles as we come to a stop. "This is where we train with our master at arms Ser Rodrick."

"With which weapons?" I ask and he looks surprised by the question.

"Swords mostly but I'm stronger with a lance, we also practice with bows"

So he is a fighter, I knew he had to get that muscle from somewhere. Now I'm curious to see him fight, I've always appreciated the art of a good duel.

"I was just curious, I watch jousts often and it's incredible what men can do with all sorts of weapons," I say as a few specific memories come to mind. "Have you ever seen a Dornishman fight with a spear?"

"I haven't," he says and I realise he's probably never left the North or if he has the furthest south he's likely gone would be to the Riverlands.

"You must it's incredible. An art of its own really."

"You enjoy jousts then?" he asks and I know that it may be strange for him to hear but I never watched for the knights or the extravagance, my father likes to say I have some of his bloodlust but I certainly won't mention that to Robb.

"Most women watch to fawn over the knights on their horses but I prefer the melee. That is proper skill and strength. It's what the best warriors compete in, it can be bloody and brutal no doubt but it's always fascinated me," I confess. "My father says that if I was a boy he would've had me training with a warhammer since I was old enough to walk."

"Well thankfully for me you're not a boy," he comments in good humour and I find myself at ease and laughing.

"Are you sure? If I was I'd become king, you could be my queen?" I offer and he laughs with me.

"Well I can't make you a king but I can make you Lady of Winterfell," he says as he takes me up onto the wall and I finally begin to realise that I won't just become Lady Stark, I will be the Lady of Winterfell, wife to the Warden of the North. "What do you think of the North so far?"

I look out at the horizon and truly see the land. It's so green, so wild. My father was right when he said it resembles the Stormlands.

"It's beautiful," I breathe in awe. "It reminds me of home."

I go to look at him and find his eyes not on the horizon, but on me. The look in them warms my heart in a way I've never felt before.

Never thought I could feel.

"I hope you'll be happy here Cassana," he murmurs as I stroke my thumb along his forearm.

Happy. Something I never thought I could ever be. Something that seemed as laughable as a folk tale.

And yet for the first time, I can see it within my grasp.

"I believe I will be."

I hardly know him but I can see something in him I've never seen in anyone else before. Goodness. No manipulation, no ulterior motives. Just this pure innocence that I didn't know could exist.

I have yet to discover what romantic love truly is, I've certainly never felt it, nor even seen it. But something deep inside of me tells me that I am looking at it. Yet every bit of sense in me fights it, telling me that it's too good to be true.

And perhaps it is too good to be true.

"Cassana," I hear a familiar voice call from below and I look to see Jaime. "Your father is asking for you."

At least it's not my mother asking for me.

From the look on Jaime's face it's clear he's put two and two together, surely by now my mother has as well.

"I best get going," I say and I'm surprised by my reluctance to let go of him.

"There's a feast tonight," he mentions before I can let go of him. "Will you join me?"

"Of course," I answer knowing my presence is expected either way but it's still sweet he's asking "I'll see you tonight."

My hand brushes against his as I let go of his arm and the mere friction makes me exhale slightly in pleasant surprise of the nerves that come alive.

As I descend down the stairs to Jaime I can't keep the smile from my face but I know that I must be in danger if I'm already fancying him.

"You know your mother's going to murder someone when she finds out," he tells me.

"Well good thing my father has you to protect him."

"And the boy?"

"Come on, she's not that obvious," I scoff but there are still doubts in the back of my mind about that.

Even so, whatever worries I have regarding my mother are overshadowed by other thoughts that have Jaime shaking his head at me.

"Oh don't look at me like that," I laugh. "You're as bad as Tyrion. I'm sure when he returns from whatever questionable venue he's ventured into that I'll never hear the end of it."

"Ah so my brother was in on this as well," he gathers. "I best not tell Cersei that. I don't quite feel like having to stand between her and Tyrion."

"No, you best not," I agree as I look back and see Robb still standing on the wall watching me go.

Well, I certainly did not expect to like him as much as I do.

~

I'm taken to my Fathers chambers and it's been a while since I've seen him so happy.

"Gods I've missed Ned," he laughs heartily over his cup of ale. "The North is a good place, good people."

"It is," I agree, feeling a sense of peace I haven't felt since I was last in the Stormlands which my father clearly also feels.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Robb?" he asks as he refills his cup.

"Yes, he is a good man," I decide however with him it's not a decision, it's a fact "He hopes I'll be happy here and I believe I will be."

"Good," he says as he pours a second cup, thankfully for me. "Ned and I have made the betrothal official, drink up."

I can't hide my smile as I take the drink "Thank you, I really do think I'll be happy with Robb."

"Ah so you do like the boy," he teases. "At least I did one thing right. I'll talk to your mother before the feast and tell her before someone else does."

I raise a hesitant eyebrow knowing that she has almost certainly put it together and skull the drink knowing I'll need the strength.

"You'll need more than that to deal with her," he comments. "Trust me I would know."

"When will the wedding be?" I ask more eagerly than I intended.

"Soon," he answers. "Ned and I will figure that all out in time, we'll announce the engagement at the feast tonight."

I nod my head and refill my cup as I feel my cheeks begin to turn red at the thought of seeing Robb tonight.

~

Robb

Before the feast, I'm with Jon and Theon making sure that I look respectable. I've never cared much for my appearance before but I should at least try to impress her. I want to impress her.

"So what do you think of the princess?" Jon asks as he fiddles with his hair, he's never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.

"I think I might like her almost as much as you like your hair," I tease and Theon slaps me on the back playfully.

"She's not bad for a southern girl that's for sure," he laughs and I don't know whether or not to feel uncomfortable.

"She's not like a southern girl that's the thing," I say and as I try to put her into words but I end up rambling "She seems like she has a good heart, her brothers a prick but she's the opposite of him. You should have seen her with Sansa, she's actually nice. She actually has a sense of humour, she likes watching melees and she actually knows things about weapons, she seems clever. We didn't talk for long but she's warm and she held onto my arm like this and she's just- I can't explain it."

"So she's a pretty girl," Theon scoffs and I know how ridiculous I sound. I've only just met her but she's not what I expected, I'm definitely intrigued by her.

"No more than that," I try to explain but I don't know how. "There's something else to her I can't put into words."

"She's a princess," Jon points out as if it wasn't already obvious. "And she's already got you wrapped around her little finger."

Well, he's not wrong.

She certainly has the grace of a lady but when she joked about being king it almost seems like she would rather be filling her fathers' shoes than her mothers. She admires him and she doesn't care much for her roles as a lady, she wants something more than that.

I don't know her but it feels like I'm starting to. I smile to myself as I think of how much Sansa and Arya will like her. I can tell Sansa already admires her but once Arya sees what I've already begun to see I know they'll all get along well.

She'll be good for them both.

For me.

The door opens and all three of us freeze as Father unexpectedly enters.

"Good to see you're all dressed well," he comments as he glances between us. "Can Robb and I have a moment?"

My brothers leave and it's just Father and I.

"I heard that you took the princess up on the wall and that you looked rather close already," he says somewhat apprehensively as he takes a seat and I know this won't be a quick conversation.

"Is there something wrong with that?" I ask unable to think of a reason for the visit, or why he'd disapprove.

"Your mother and I are just a bit wary of her, well not her but the Lannisters," he confesses.

"But she's a Baratheon?"

"Her mother is a Lannister and well we have reason to be suspicious of them," he reluctantly admits and I need to know more. I need to know what he's going on about.

"What do you mean?" I ask as my stomach twists slightly. It's stupid, I barely know her but the thought of her not being who I think she is doesn't sit right with me.

"It's probably nothing but I'm worried that she may be more Lannister than Baratheon," he begins before cutting himself off and getting to the point "If she starts asking about Jon Arryn I want you to let me know."

"Jon Arryn?"

"It doesn't matter," he dismisses. "I just need you to let me know if she starts asking questions."

"She is going to be my wife," I remind him curtly. "I am not going to treat her like she's - I don't even know what, a spy?"

"You do like her," he realises. "I know that she seems charming but you don't know the place that she's from."

"You told me I'd like her- what's changed since then?" I ask incredulously. "Why are you now-"

"Things have changed since then," he says then hesitantly continues. "You're aunt Lysa has told us not to trust them. We're heading her warning."

I'm just left even more bewildered. "I know the Lannisters are bad but she's not one of them."

"For all our sakes I hope not," he says quietly. "I'm sorry to bring it up but we just need to be cautious."

I nod but I still don't understand what exactly he thinks the Lannister's have done. It doesn't matter.

Like I told Cassana, Northerners are wary of outsiders and well she's certainly a bit more extravagant than a Northerner so maybe he took that the wrong way.

"She's just a girl," I remind him "From what I've seen she's nothing like the queen or the rest of them". After a moment of thought, I add "Honestly I think she wants to get away from them."

That pricks his interest. "Really?"

"Really," I confirm. "She seems to take after her father more than her mother."

"I'll have to have a proper conversation with her. I trust your instincts Robb but just don't let a pretty girl blind you."

"She's going to be my wife, shouldn't I let myself be interested?"

"Your right I'm sorry to bother you, son," he smiles to himself as he pats me on the back and he heads to the door. "I'm glad you like her."

"So am I."

He disappears and Jon and Theon walk back in looking equally confused "What was that about?"

"I don't even know," I say laughing it off as nothing. I just hope that it's nothing.

"So when are you escorting your future bride to the feast?" Theon asks and I fall short of an answer.

"Escorting her?" I ask as if there's something I've missed.

"Robb," Jon groans stretching my name out.

"You have a pretty girl, a princess, who is going to be marrying you," Theon says putting a hand on my shoulder "You need to impress her."

Why didn't I think of that before and how did they think of it before me?

"You're right," I agree but I've never done anything like this before "So do I just turn up to her room?"

"You have to be romantic," Jon says as he and Theon share a look.

"That's right," Theon agrees and I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of Jon and Theon giving me advice.

"And I'm meant to take romantic advice from you two?" I scoff. "The closest either of you have come to actually courting someone is paying for Ros."

"That's more experience than you have," Theon retorts and I can't argue with that. "You have to be romantic when you go see her. You can't just be all casual about it, you need to go and take her hand and ask to escort her and be all formal and crap."

Jon and I look equally surprised by Theon.

"Just don't screw it up," Jon says more simply and I nod along.

"Alright, I'm going to do it," I decide. We might be betrothed but that doesn't mean I don't have to court her. I want to, I want this to be more than something loveless and arranged. I want it to be real.

They clap their hands and cheer me on as I take one last look in the mirror and go to see her.

~

Cassana

Myrcella is with me as I dress for the feast.

I've realised that the clothes I wear in Kings Landing might be considered excessive in the North so I opt for a more simple low necked black gown with light gold embroidery as opposed to some of the yellow-gold more extravagant gowns I packed that I would typically wear to a feast in the capitol.

I secure my gold Baratheon belt around the waist, it goes well with almost everything and it's as much a part of me now as the gold rings I wear on my fingers. Thank you uncle Renly for having good taste.

My hair is loose except for a braided bun which I've seen is one of the styles in the North.

I've only been here for less than a day but I've gathered that Northerners do not like excess or extravagance. If I want to assimilate here then I need to tone what I would usually wear down.

"Is he kind?" Myrcella asks as I style her hair. She always prefers me to do it over her handmaidens who we gave leave to prepare for the feast so it's just us two.

"Very," I blush. "I always worried that I wouldn't like whomever father would choose to marry me to but I truly do believe that I will be happy in this marriage."

"I hope for the same but sometimes I worry father won't care who he weds me to."

I recognise the look in her eyes far too well and reach forward to grasp her hand tightly. "Father does care for us."

"But you're his favourite."

"He loves all of us," I promise her. "Never doubt it, no matter what our mother says remember that Father does love us"

A knock on the door interrupts us and when I open it Robb stands there dressed in fine clothes looking nervous but sweet.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," I smile as I find myself rather taken aback. I didn't expect to have him at my door.

"May I escort you to the feast?" he asks and I turn back with a bright smile to Myrcella who nods her head and mouths 'yes'.

"Of course," I answer as I smooth down the skirt of my dress. "I'm not overdressed am I?"

"Not at all," he laughs to himself as he takes a proper look at me. "You look beautiful."

I can't help the warmth that comes to my cheeks as I take his extended hand. His hand is warm, calloused from the years of training with a sword yet it feels so soft pressed against mine.

It feels right.

I rest my hand on the inside of his arm as I had earlier and find that it also feels right. It feels as if I've known him for far longer than I actually have. I'm more comfortable with him in this short time than I had ever imagined being.

"Well, aren't you a gentleman escorting me to the feast," I praise as he straightens his back to make himself appear taller.

"It's the gentlemanly thing to do," he says and I smile at how cute he looks all nervous, even so, I decide to put him at ease a little

I laugh and bring my lips close to his ear "Well thank the gods for that because I would have likely gotten lost and never made it to the feast if you didn't come. I'd probably end up drinking by the stables."

His laugh echoes through the hall and the sound immediately makes me join in with him. He's good-humoured. I don't want him to pretend around me because I'm a kings daughter like everyone else does. I want him to be at ease like he is now.

"That would be a sight," he laughs and I can tell he's struggling to imagine it.

"It wouldn't be the first time," I confess as I remember several specific occasion when Tyrion was left to babysit me. Then another when my Father decided to take me to the Stormlands to celebrate my fifteenth name day. The men in my family are far from responsible when it comes to looking after children but it made for an entertaining youth.

"There certainly is more to you than meets the eye," he chuckles. "I can't wait to see more of what's behind them."

I squeeze his hand as I smile "Well they have finalised our betrothal so you won't have to wait long."

"Have they?" he asks seeming more eager than I had expected. "So I'll be calling you my wife soon then."

Just hearing him say the word ignites something in me. I've always been hesitant at wedding a man that wasn't my choosing, had been bitter about it the entire journey, but now I feel as if I had chosen him myself.

"It's so strange thinking that in a few weeks I could be married to a stranger but for us, for our houses, it's expected."

"Hopefully by then we won't be strangers," he says stroking the back of my hand. "By the time we're married hopefully you'll want to be my wife."

"Well, I'm certainly not opposed," I tease, shocked at how willing I am as opposed to this morning. "I consider myself to be a good judge of character and after being raised in Kings Landing I can quickly distinguish people who are good at heart from the rest, and you Robb Stark are a good man. I believe that you will make a good husband."

Just from first impressions and from what conversation we have had I truly do believe he will be. He has concerns and cares for me that I can't imagine any other possible husband having. He cares for my happiness which is invaluable.

"If someone told me a month ago that the princess of the Seven Kingdoms would want to marry me I'd have asked if they were drunk," he comments. "I still can't quite believe it."

"Well I can't believe that I'm getting married to a man like you," I say to test one thing I haven't yet.

Many men seem perfect until they have their masculinity or anything else questioned. Then they become monsters. Robb however doesn't become hostile or offended. Instead, he's curious.

"A man like me?" he asks curiously instead of hostily which many men would.

"A Northerner, someone a bit rough around the edges. A good man," I clarify and before we enter the hall I add "And a very handsome one."

I laugh to myself at how his jaw drops and he laughs to himself. "You are something else indeed."

"Indeed I am."

We enter the hall and as we approach our respective families arm in arm the hall turns to look at us. Clearly, the Red Keep isn't the only place where news spreads quickly.

My eyes immediately find my mother who watches from beside Catelyn in silent disapproval. I know her well enough to know that she must have been fighting with my father before she came. She doesn't want me here away from her. She wants me in the city, or at the very least in the south.

Robb rests his hand lightly on my back and gently guides me to the table where his siblings and mine are seated together and I take a seat beside him.

My Father stands and raises his drink "Now would be a good time to announce the betrothal of my eldest daughter Cassana to Robb Stark. Cheers to finally joining the great houses of Baratheon and Stark."

People raise their drinks in good spirit and Ned stands to make his own toast "The North welcomes Princess Cassana and is honoured to have her wed to my eldest son Robb, tonight we celebrate the future Lord and Lady of Winterfell."

Everyone old enough to drink raises their drinks aside from my mother. I hold her deadly stare, she can't control me now. I am no longer her's.

I also raise my glass. A glass to my future in Winterfell. To my future with Robb.

A glass to my freedom.

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