#brandon stark smut

[sasagehoes]

THE NECROMANCER

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈 ;𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱;; The fruits of necromancy start taking roots inside of you, and your older sister's warnings didn't prepare you for the horrors that were to come.

masterlist | series masterlist

previous chapter ~ next chapter

CW; This series contains a LOT of sensitive topics. Just like the show, there will be individual warnings for each chapter, I'm not responsible for what you read.

graphic depictions of blood and gore/ canon typical violence / assault/ murder/lots of change in POV/ war/ assault and rape/ mentions of purity culture and virginity / arranged marriage/ typical game of thrones warnings.

3.6k words

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

As soon as the boat arrived with her on board, everyone went crazy. It wasn't that big of a deal, I was planning on rejecting the proposal,

why would I marry a complete stranger?

I knew they would make me go receive her and her family, so I hid until they left, I knew my mother would reprimand me, but as much as I could avoid her, the better.

I came down from my hiding spot to see my older sister, Sansa, standing there with her arms over her chest. I was clearly mad, I tried to run, but she caught up to me

"Don't you know just how in trouble you are right now," she said, pulling my ear slightly to not injure me, but enough that it would hurt

"Let me go!" I said."Stop whining! mom's gonna give you an earful"

As we entered the mess hall, i could see my mother standing with a displeased face, looking directly at me

"Why do you not want to see her, Bran?"

My mother said, annoyed. I just ignored her and looked to the side

"Answer me, Brandon," she repeated herself, this time mad.

"Why would I marry someone I've never met!" I snapped, now standing up

"You think she chose to get married, chose to be sent away from her family to come into this one?" She replied hastily looking into my eyes.

I stopped, and I never thought about her situation, I knew my sisters would have the same fate. Yet I still couldn't stomach the thought of being with a complete stranger for the rest of my life.

"...no, I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed, looking at my mother

"When she gets here, treat her nicely, you don't have to like her immediately.. you'll have time to learn how to love and cherish her."

With that, she left, leaving me there pondering on how my life would be with a stranger.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The harsh cold wind was unfamiliar to me. My fingers felt like falling off. I couldn't imagine how it would feel once winter came.

The Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, got off his horse and came up to us. He looked around, clearly expecting more people

"I thought Lord Caius would come to send you off, I guess I was mistaken," he said sincerely

at the mention of my father's name, my eyes went wide, coming out of my trance. My sister noticed and grabbed my hand firmly.

"My apologies, Lord Stark, some..commotion has started in our land, both our parents had to stay to re ensure the safety of our people."

He nodded, "No worries, I understand. You'll be taken care of here, until your leave." he said.

Robb, the oldest, helped to mount my stuff on the horses. I smiled at him, muttering a small 'thank you'

The man I've learned to address as Theon tried to start small talk once in the horses,

"Bravoos is a beautiful place from what my friends say," he started

"I suppose it does have its own flare,"

I say out of it, just mentions of Bravoos made my stomach churn.

not wanting to seem rude, i forced the conversation to continue

"Winterfell is even more beautiful than what I had imagined. You must feel proud of being born here, my Lord," I say, looking at him, his eyes drop for a second too long.

"I'd have to agree with you, my Lady, it is indeed a beautiful place, yet I'm not form here, I'm form the Iron Islands, a Greyjoy"

"Oh, well, it must've been hard getting used to the weather," I say, mustering up a dry chuckle. He nodded and was about to continue till Robb told him something, and he stayed by his side until we arrived.

It seemed my betrothed was nowhere to be seen.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

Once you arrived at Castle Ward, you couldn't believe your eyes..it was beautiful, a sense of comfort and warmth that radiated from it.

All of the remaining family that didn't go out to receive you and your sister were all lined up, two girls, two boys, and a woman.

As all of you approached them, you heard whispers in the crowd

'She's to marry the little lord?'

'Isn't she a doll'

'so beautiful'

'Bravoosi ey?'

you payed them no mind as you plastered a small smile on your lips and bowed to the family, waiting to be risen you looked up briefly, and the boy, who seemed your age was already looking at you, as soon as the two of your eyes met, they disconnected.

So that was to be your husband, your salvation.

"Rise child," Lady Catelyn said sweetly, and so you did. Looking at her in the eye, you smiled. "Pleasure to finally meet you, my Lady." you say.

"Likewise, you are more beautiful than what the books described... So glad you could make it safely,"

"This is Sansa and Arya, my only daughters, and I've seen you've met Robb, my first born already, we'll this is Rickon, the youngest and Bran, you're betrothed" she continued, pointing at each one of the children as she named them.

"Pleasure to meet you all, I hope we can get along." Your eyes met Bran's as you finished. He avoided them as soon as he saw you.

"I can't wait for us to be sisters," Sansa exclaimed in her place as she went up to you to pull your hand. "Would you like to see your room?" she asked hands, holding yours. You nodded, and she took off running with you in tow.

"Careful not to fall!" Catelyn yelled at the both of you.

Ophelia looked at Brandon and walked up to him.

"I trust you'll take care of her, My Lord?"

she said to him, a trail of worries behind her words.

"I promise, she won't be sad as long as she's with me" Brandon replied, with a smile looking up at her, she nodded and bowed slightly l, mouthing a small 'thank you'

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The food was wonderful, the smell of wine was everywhere in the dining room, and people danced and sang, up until Lord Stark stood up and held his cup of wine and hit it with his spoon

"Today, we celebrate the soon to be union between House Stark and House Corvus!" he said loudly, everyone followed suit, cheering and clapping rather obnoxiously.

Your face was dull and expressionless, staring off into the abyss that were the walls. You couldn't escape it.

You heard her everywhere, like a taunting reminder that you got a better chance that she could've ever gotten, you hated yourself, even if it wasn't your fault.

a hand on your shoulder helped you out of the trance, Arya. If you remember,

"Want to spar outside? If you don't know.. I can teach you!"

You smiled genuinely for what felt like the first time in weeks and nodded, running off with Arya outside.

..

"Grab one!" she said to me, throwing me a wooden sword that was left on the floor. I caught it after it almost escaped my hold, Arya giggled, "Just you wait," I told her jokingly, making her get into a stance, a bad one, and so did I.

We sparred for almost an hour when their Septa walked out of the mess hall and froze in her steps

"Arya Stark!" she yelled in disbelief

"Oh no.." Arya sighed

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?" the septa said as she dragged Arya by the arm

"Im not a lady," Arya bickered

"Your father is a lord, making you. a lady, now get inside!" the old woman said, annoyed, clearly having dealt with this more times that she could count. Once Arya made it inside, and after she flashed you a smile, the septa came up to me

"My Lady, please don't humor her, I hope i won't have to deal with the both of you from now on," she voiced out as nicely as she could

"I promise i won't become a problem." My eyes squinted as I smiled at her.

Pleased with my answer, she bowed slighly and left.

'maybe this wouldn't be so bad' I thought as I gazed at my surroundings, the tall grey walls of the castle were mesmerizing, although the castle back home was more lively and more colourful, on the inside it was dull and bleak, now even more so, with everything currently going on.

"Lost on your thoughts again, little lady?" a man whom i've never met said to me almost invading my personal space."Please don't call me that sir, " I say, trying to sound as polite as possible.

He got closer. "Your father sent me," he said, and my eyes went wide, I opened my mouth to scream, but he covered it "Scream and you'll end up like Leiana, understood?" He asked, I nodded as tears escaped my eyes,

"Your brother ever told you what I did to the little whore?" He continued now moving to the stables, I couldn't breathe, "Answer me!" he screamed.

"NO, no he didn't please let me go, I won't say anything!" My words were rushed, I didn't want to end up like that, broken and destroyed.

He threw me down on the hay that adorned the floor of the empty stable, my cries were drowned by the music that played in the mess hall and the cheers.

"Oh, I'll let you go, just after im done with you," he said, standing up, undoing his belt.

As I tried to scream once more, trying to get anyone to listen to my cries, a sword pushed through the back of the man, blood falling on my skin.. I froze.

"Are you alright?! Did he touch you?!" The man with dark shoulder-length hair said, picking me up, the sword now thrown on the floor.

I hugged him tightly "Thankyou, thank you!" I sobbed trembling.

"What happened?!" I heard Ophelia yell from the doors of the mess hall, once she saw my sobbing figure and the man dead on the floor, she ran to me.

"Please tell me he didn't touch you," She said now on her knees in front of me, holding my face. Her voice was shaking, I shaked my head.

"He asked if Amadeus had told me what he did to Leiana." I tell her as much as my hiccups would let me. Her eyes went dark for a moment.

"Those bastards!" She yelled

The music had stopped, and people were coming outside, Lord Stark came out worried, and once he saw the scene, he hurried to ask what had taken place.

Once everyone calmed down and explained what had happened, I saw Brandon looking at me with worried eyes from afar. He came up to me and offered his coat and left, not knowing what to say. After that, everything was a blurry mess.

When I woke up, a sleeping Ophelia was at my side sitting on a chair. Feeling a shift in the bed, she woke up. "Are you alright, my dear?" She asked me worried, I nodded

"I'm leaving today sister..I can't delay my trip to house Reed" she spoke, my eyes went wide

"What if another one comes after me or worse you!" I exclaim

"I'll be protected by some guards, and so will you, Lord Stark was very understanding"

I sat up abruptly "You told him?!"

"No! Not the whole truth.. I have to be careful"

I relaxed, it wasn't safe for anyone to know as of now, anyone could betray us. Anyone.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

You hugged your sister tightly as she bid farewell to everyone, not knowing if this would be the last time you two would see each other

"We'll meet again" she said caressing your hair

"Once snow comes"

"Blood shall fall"

This would be the last time you heard of Ophelia..alive.

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The days went on rather banal, nothing new, taking sewing and embroidery lessons with Sansa and sneaking off to play with Arya in the courtyard once you got bored.

Everytime you went to talk to Brandon he was dry and cold, sometimes just flat out ignoring you.

you couldn't care less, most royal marriages were only for one thing - unions.

or that's what you told yourself.

One particular day, you noticed you were feeling rather drained, not having done many physical activities you felt worried,

Apparently someone noticed and left you a snack with a note that said 'rest, you look tired', with an apple next to it.

You asked around thinking it was either of the sisters but none knew what you were talking about so you just left it at that.

At around noon, you where playing with Arya on top of some tables, pretending to be knights, when a puncturing pain burst in your lower abdomen making you almost fall off. Arya, worried, dropped her stick and went to you thinking she had hurt you

"Are you okay??" she said panicking "Yes I'm alright just an old bruise I suppose"

you knew it wasn't a bruise, you knew what this pain entailed. You were petrified. this was only the begging.

your sister, Leiana, had explained what happened go the woman in the family once their first blood takes fruition, it's not only blood and pain, it the nightmares of death that plague you, and the smell of blood everywhere. it was too early you thought..way too early.

One morning you woke with the pain gone but a slick feeling in your thighs, you uncovered yourself and saw the crimson red stain that now adorned the bed sheets.

Although you wanted to think you were saved, Leiana also had gotten it, yet that didn't stop them. Nothing stops them

"You know what this entails right my dear" Lady Stark asked you, as you told her what was happening. you nodded slightly, she smiled.

"Don't worry, I know other houses make the girls marry as soon as there first blood occurs, but not here, neither of you are ready so don't fret, your still a child, I couldn't do that to you" she said empathicly. you just nodded and thanked her, and as she left you could only smell blood, it irked you, you felt disgusting.

Sansa was next to you at dinner talking about how wonderfull this was, you could have children now, give birth to little lords and ladies, which made Brandon's cheeks dust a light pink. You giggled, but there was a part of you that felt a nauseating feeling at the pit of your stomach.

If you had a girl would she deal with the same thing your sister did? Would she be chased down the streets and tainted by the men who swore to protect her?

No. you'd make sure she'll never go through that horrible, thing you'll make sure. Even if it's the last thing you do.

The following day you could barely walk, the pain was getting worse and Maester Luwin said ot was normal. saying it was because you had gotten it sooner than it should.

If only.

As you were walking with Sansa trying to withstand the cramping pain, talking about how you two would want both your futures to play out, the pain got worse, in an instant it felt like soemone took a blow to your lower stomach, making you bend over and groaning in pain. Sansa noticed and went to your aid, but before you could say anything everything went black.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

You opened your eyes and the bright light blinded you briefly, your head throbbed as the distant noise got closer.

You weren't quite sure where you were, but it wasn't Winterfell. It was red, everything, the snow was crimson red, the dew falling off the trees was red everything was red. You looked at yourself in the nearby bloodied river.

it wasn't you.

you felt around the face that was reflected on the river, it wasn't yours yet you could feel it, it was c aked in blood as well as the hair that came with it.

before panicking you remembered your sister's words;

"apart from the normal symptoms, you'll be ridden with nightmares for days might even be weeks"

You felt and indescribable hunger and as you saw the crimson snow it became appealing - appetizing even.

you took a handful of it and ate it, and then another, and another until your hunger was satiated.

everything went black for a while and when you awoke, you still weren't in Winterfell, but in the palace of Corvus. Castle Ravenna.

It wasn't you, you had to remind yourself before any panic would settle in your bones.

It all looked so different, The sigil on the banners was the old one, the walls were relatively new, even the throne looked more polished

this was clearly long before you had been born, who's body you were inhibiting, you didnt know, but it felt... different than in the snow earlier, the blood on your veins wamer, and faster.

"Amelia! are you listening?" the voice of a man said

Amelia? if the stories the women in blood told your sister were true, she was the first necromancer of house corvus.

"Yes dear?" you answered, the voice not your own.

"What have you been doing in the outskirts of the city, I've told you a hunded times. do not." he kept going

"The snow, i helped get rid of the red snow"

You didn't know how you knew what to say. You just did. It was automatic.

"We can't keep escaping from our marital duties.. we need to produce an heir"

Your stomach churned at the thought.

The blackout ensued again, yet this time you were in the garden, your hand was bleeding profusely, and a white rabbit squirmed on the floor, its head was detached.

You wouldn't move, couldn't, it felt as in a second your body was still and then you were looking through the rabbits eyes.

You've heard of wargs, yet they manipulated live animals.. not the dead.. as you snapped out of it, you gasped and quickly jid the beheaded rabbit in a bush, washing the wounded hand on the fountain.

The night you finally consummated your marriage with your husband, he was gentle, truly, he was, but we both longed for someone else. We didn't belong to the other, yet our destinies were written long before our conception.

Another black out. Gods, did you hate them by now.

You held your first born in your arms, a beautiful baby girl, eyes like the forest and caramel skin. She cooed at you and you smiled.

Her father seemed mad, only came in the room to corroborate the gender of the child and left.

Your nightmares showed the many children you or better said, Amelia, had through out the years. Five boy and five girls, only two made with love, the other out of necessity.

The last one was the most brutal of them all

Your body was now old and wrinkly as you could only stare in shock as the torture that was inflicted on your daughters was laughed at, and sang about, the remaining two sat on the table ridden in fear that they would wake up with a man in their chambers, putting the through hell, and you couldn't do anything.

Their daughters' daughters would go through this hell, and their daughters after that. Amelia couldn't bear it. You could feel it in her veins. She mustered any bit of energy left in her old bones and killed the man whom she had married all those years ago

The man who let men do whatever they pleased with your daughters for the sake of the kingdom. It was her last straw.

"You stand here accused of practicing the dark arts, and the worst crime..regicide, how do you plead?" The man asked loud for the whole city to hear

I stayed silent.

"Any last words then?" He asked

I looked up and said:

"My daughters will not be able to use their gifts, but be worry of the ones to come, one will be born so fierce, she'll fear no man, as no man will come to harm her, the loss of her sisters will only strengthen her, and the downfall of the tyrants of Bravoos will come"

The daughters cried as they were held by the perpetrators as your neck was sliced from ear to ear. Everything went black for the last time.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

When you finally woke up, it was in a cold sweat, pawing at your neck with one hand. You looked hastily at your surroundings and saw a sleeping Bran at your bedside, a hand holding yours. Your heartbeat slowed a little, and you smiled

"Brandon, wake up," you say softly, shaking him

He woke up slowly, eyes groggy, but when he laid his eyes on your figure, his eye widened, and he jumped to hug you. "I thought you wouldn't wake up," he said distraught

You hugged him back and said, "Didn't know you missed me," grinning.

He glared at you playfully "Maybe..maybe not, are you okay? you were gone for days, mumbling things in your sleep.. you had me worried, " he said the blush in his cheeks eminent.

You couldn't stop the giggles that exited your mouth. After being cold and distant for so long, who could've thought he would be so concerned for your well being.

"Don't laugh." he added as he tried to storm out the room, but your hand pulling his stopped him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," you say in between laughs. He furrowed his brows and quickly kissed your cheek, making you shut up. your brain malfunctioned, and you just stared at him, eyes wide and cheeks red.

Before you could say anything, he bolted out the door, yelling, "She woke up!"

And you just stared at the door in disbelief.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Thank you so much for getting this far, can't wait to continue this series!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist,let me know ♥︎

(っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

taglist: @etyaty @tcapter

DO NOT;; RE-UPLOAD, TRANSLATE NOR COPY MY WORKS!!

This belongs to;;

-SASAGEHOES

[tallemajas-scriptorium]

Am I working on a FILTHY King Bran Stark smut?? 🤭

@chompchompluke help I’m a total dog

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Can you make a bran Drabble when the jist is that he has a secret bf/gf :) tysm!!

bran with a secret s/o

navigation | warnings : SMUT (if ur uncomfortable with that just skip), caught in the act | a/n : listen, if he wanted to, he could, THE WAY I SAT GIGGLING TO MYSELF WRITING A CERTAIN ONE | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom | bran stark playlist

SFW

bran loves secretly holding your hand, especially when you go out somewhere with him and his family, ugh hand holding is a must

secret kisses🤭

buying you gifts then you having to pretend arya or sansa bought it for you and the awkward silence when they say they didn't

he has you over to watch movies and cuddle

he may beg his fam to go out and do something for the night just so he can do that ^^

he likes sneaking around with you

longing looks across the dinner table when you get invited to have dinner

OML KICKING EACH OTHER UNDER THE TABLE OR TEASING EACH OTHER

you both are sat giggling and everyone just has confused looks on their faces

you sneak into his room in the middle of the night when you have sleepovers just to cuddle with him and then you have to sneak back into whoever's room you were in first

late night talks

always checking up on you, making sure you've eaten etc

once sansa caught him doing this and started teasing him about it

his fam constantly talks about you around him just to see that little smile that appears on his face

NSFW

neck kisses

HICKEYS

imagine going home and you have a big massive hickey appearing on your neck all because bran cant help himself

THIS MAN LOVES HAIR PULLING

imagine ya'll are at it, he's devouring you down there and you're pulling his hair

the moans he has to stiffle😫

constantly telling him to be quiet

loves taking you up against the wall

always ensures your comfort before trying anything new

he loves marking you

if you consent to pics being taken he absolutely will

keeps them all in a secret folder and sometimes beats his meat to them💀 ^^

IM SORRY

bro is very very vocal

sometimes your movie sessions end up in steamy sex

literally does everything you tell him to no joke

bro is submissive af

he needs praise

like a lot of praise

HE NEEDS YOU TO TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM

he craves it

"tell me you're mine"

HE WHIMPERS

i just know he whimpers

and i just know its big

its hard for you guys to get at it because your relationship being a secret yk so when you do its definitely passionate and loving

bran does like it rough but not all the time

Grunts and whimpers could be heard throughout the room.

Bran's family had gone out for the day, but Bran pretended to be sick so he could have you over.

His shirt was thrown somewhere around the room and your bottoms where around your ankles.

As he rutted into you, you tugged on his scalp, earning quiet whimpers from him.

Your moans filled his ear drums, listening as you whispered sweet nothing's into his ear.

His family was supposed to be out for the day, but then just happened to get home early.

They all piled into the hallway.

"Stop." Catelyn said. "Can't you hear that?"

Sansa and Arya stiffled laughs as they all approached Bran's room. The noises got louder.

Catelyn opened the door.

"BRANDON!"

You both turned to look at each other in embarrassment.

"Fuck."

[angrygirlromero]

Masterlist

request are always open…

PERCY JACKSON:

CHARLIE BUSHNELL:

CELEBRTY CRUSH

LUKE CASTELLAN:

BASTARD LOVE

HEPHAESTUS GIRLS

OCEAN EYES: 2, 3, 4.

PERFECTION

MY KIND OF WOMAN

CLARISSE LA RUE:

HELPLESS

GAME OF THRONES, HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

ADDAM OF HULL:

DORNISH PREFERENCE

MAEGOR TARGARYEN:

REQUEST (Maegor x second wife)

REQUEST (Maegor x niece)

LITTLE TOY

REQUEST (Maegor x niece)

REQUEST (Modern Maegor AU)

HEADCANONS

REQUEST (Maegor x pregnant niece)

VISENYA TARGARYEN:

SWEET FANTASIES

[crownedtargaryen]

Modern!Bran Stark Headcanons

A/N: honestly, this is just to give context to the one shot I’m writing and I made these in my class. A lot are of him being a silly little Twitch streamer. So, enjoy!! There aren’t a lot of NSFW ones, but shrugs or whatever.

ALL NOTES ARE APPRECIATED! (REBLOGS, LIKES, COMMENTS)

CW: Semi-Publicized Sex, Slurp Slurp Under Da Desk

NSFW 18+ HEADCANONS ARE IN THIS!

Pronouns: She/Her

SFW

He’s a huge gamer, 100%. The average League and Clash Royale player. He’s a variety twitch streamer in his spare time, honestly having a large following!

He works a lot on his upper body strength, keeping himself lean but not buff. He has a tendency to overexert himself a because he’s insecure about his wheelchair, trying to prove he can still be just as strong as his brothers.

Bran is a MASSIVE nerd, holy crap. He has limited edition collectibles and loves to show you them. At cons, he will buy insanely expensive merchandise and you stand there in shock at how much money he throws into those passions of his.

To be honest, he probably wouldn’t have been your friend if you weren’t friends with his siblings. Plus, you grew up with him which is a bonus. You helped him through the emotional distress he felt being now stuck in a wheelchair, encouraging him that you’ll do anything to help him learn to walk again. A naive child, which he constantly teases you for now. When people ask why you’re friends with him, you respond “I find him endearing is all!”

He works a lot on his upper body strength, keeping himself lean but not buff. He has a tendency to overexert himself a because he’s insecure about his wheelchair, trying to prove he can still be just as strong as his brothers.

Bran is a MASSIVE nerd, holy crap. He has limited edition collectibles and loves to show you them. At cons, he will buy insanely expensive merchandise and you stand there in shock at how much money he throws into those passions of his.

To be honest, he probably wouldn’t have been your friend if you weren’t friends with his siblings. Plus, you grew up with him which is a bonus. You helped him through the emotional distress he felt being now stuck in a wheelchair, encouraging him that you’ll do anything to help him learn to walk again. A naive child, which he constantly teases you for now. When people ask why you’re friends with him, you respond “I find him endearing is all!”

He’s had the biggest crush on you since kindergarten and has dedicated his entire love life to pursuing you. But, he has terrible rejection anxiety and so he hesitates to confess his feelings.

His love languages are as follows; Giving - Gift Giving and Semi-Physical Touch ,, Receiving - Physical Touch and Quality Time

He doesn’t show it nor admit it, but he’s SUPER protective of you and sends Jock!Robb and Jock!Jon to beat the crap out of people for you.

His siblings and parents LOVVVE embarrassing him in-front of you. They’ll tell you stupid stories that you weren’t there for, unflattering pictures they take of him they’ll text you, abut what REALLY gets him all flustered and pulling you away to his room to hide is when they drop unsubtle hints about his deep rooted feelings for you

Bran has really gotten used to swallowing down his emotions and hiding them from everyone. You’d have to know everything going on in his life to know how he truly feels.

He definitely went through a cringey stage in middle school, it’s haunted him since. He may need therapy.

Uses the words Pog, Pogchamp, Rizz, Bruh, Moist, and Holly Molay ironically, and repeats them regularly. He won’t stop. Help.

Can and WILL tell you the entire FNAF lore.

Always urging you into his interests and rambles for hours in what he loves. He’ll GLADLY indulge in your likings as well.

He’s on the neurodivergent spectrum. As someone on that spectrum, he totally is. He has special interests and will never stop talking about them while laying in bed with you.

He absolutely ADORES when upon send him videos and pictures you find on Pinterest or TikTok and say “us”

When you aren’t at his house he BEGS you to call him to merely feel your presence. He has insane insomnia when you aren’t with him and needs to call you to sleep.

On ALL his socials other than his Twitch, you’re his pfp. The thing is, he doesn’t pick flattering pictures of you. No. He picks the most meme worthy goofy photos of you and him, just LOVING it. He’s VERY public about your romance.

His stream LOOOVES you and constantly begs him to have you on. He acts like it’s bothersome but he secretly adores the excuse to invite you over. Of course, there are some of his fans that ignore your existence or don’t like you, which you come to realize is because they’re romantically attracted to him and feel you are an obstacle, so they find it better to be harsh or just ignore you all together.

He’ll do a karaoke stream with you and I love to imagine it’s like this video

NSFW

He loves when his family is out and he tells them he’s streaming so you can come over and just ride the fuck out of him in the living room.

He’s a pervy mf, eyeing you up and down always and getting hard-ons CONSTANTLY when he looks at you. It makes you so flustered noticing the huge cock in his pants rock hard and insanely visible due to his size.

Sometimes he’ll plead you to suck him off when he’s streaming, tying to keep himself together as he talks to his chat. He’ll let out soft whimpers and moans, but play them off as frustration. You’re surprised no one has caught on as he pushes your head down and swallows hard to stifle himself.

He’ll suck on your tits randomly. You’ll be cuddling and he’ll move under your shirt, whining softly and peeking through the top of your shirt. You look down at him and laugh, then give him verbal consent to continue. He’ll greedily lap over the buds, feeling up your sides and slowly grinding against your leg like the wolf he is.

He suggests an OnlyFans a few times and a NSFW Twitter, jokingly at first but then genuinely growing interested in the idea. You think it’s just for money, but he wants to show everyone who he belongs to and who belongs to him.

He loves nothing more than thigh fucking you, moaning into your ear and burying his face in your neck as he marks you up.

He has a private Twitter where he posts (with your consent) photos of him with the messiest hickeys on his neck and the scratches on his back after you and him fuck around. His captions are always goofy like “Just got mauled 🤭😏”

He loves when you ride him while he plays games, moaning softly into the mic and gripping your ass, unable to focus as he messes up and swears under his breath, burying his face between your breasts to comfort himself from the frustration.

[lovebaela]

Ice & Fire ༄ Pt. 11 (Bran Stark x Targaryen oc fanfic)

⋇ Chapter 11: The Wedding ⋇

Warnings: Smut (again I tried LOL)

Tsireya’s POV

A few days before the wedding, the houses of the North came to Winterfell to talk about the marriage. They were at first skeptical about me, until the Starks defended me. “She has been raised along side us before the war,” Sansa said, “we have full trust in her.” After getting that out of the way, I had to figure out which dress I wanted. Sansa and Arya, of course, helped me pick one.

We all met up in the godswood again, requested by Bran. He was really ticked off, he saw in the past all that Little Finger did. He told us and we were shocked. “So…he was the one who sent that assassin?” I asked. He nodded, “yes..” “I knew he couldn’t be completely trusted but wow, he started everything!” Sansa said, growing angry. We held a trial for Little Finger, of course he denied all the accusations, but Bran brought up everything he did from the past. He begged for his life, especially to Sansa, but that wasn’t going to work. Arya passed Bran a sword. He whispered to himself, “the man who passes the sentence swings the sword…” he sentenced Little Finger to death and sliced his head off. At least we don’t have to worry about him anymore.

The day before the wedding is Bran’s coronation. He had to proceed into the Great Hall on horseback like he did before. But instead of doing it as a Prince, he did it as a King. It felt like just yesterday when we had the harvest.

Before he trotted in, the Lords of each Northern house drew out their swords and rose them up. As he passed each Lord, they lowered their swords. Once he sat down at the high table, the maester placed the crown on his head. Everyone chanted, “King of the North!” Just like that, the day was already over. Everyone went to bed extra early for tomorrow.

My maids helped me get dressed in my wedding gown. Sansa and Arya were also in my room too. I decided to put my hair up instead of letting it flow.

“You look so beautiful,” Sansa said.

“Like a queen,” Arya smiled.

“Thank you guys,” I said. I gave them both a big hug, “well, I guess it’s time.” Sansa and Arya nodded and left the room so they could go to their spot outside in the godswood. I thanked the maids and dismissed them too.

When it was finally my queue to go, I took a deep breath and left my room. The sun was starting to go down, such a beautiful scenery. I walked in front of the trail that had lanterns on both sides leading all the way down to the tree. Everyone stopped talking and turned to see me. They all gasped in awe. Bran’s eyes widened as he saw me, making me grin a little. He looked so handsome, dressed in black, kingly attire. I started walking down the aisle, hearing people whispering compliments.

We are both 18 now, man and woman. If only everyone else could see us, how far we have come.

I started to imagine what the wedding also could’ve been like. I pictured Jon, Robb, Rickon, Lord Eddard, and the girls by Bran’s side. For my side, I pictured my mother and the rest of my family. What hit me hard the most was thinking about my father. He could have been the one to walk me down, giving me to Bran. I also thought of Hodor, Jojen, and Summer. I looked up and saw our dragons circling the ceremony, watching from above. I finally made it to Bran and the maester in front of the tree.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of man and woman. Brandon of House Stark, King of the North, son of Eddard Stark and Lady Tsireya of House Targaryen, daughter of Daeron Targaryen.” the maester announced, “now, King Brandon Stark, do you take this woman?”

Bran looked deeply into my eyes, “yes, I take this woman.”

“And you, Lady Tsireya Targaryen, do you take this man?”

I never broke eye contact with Bran, “yes, I take this man..”

We both move closer to each other and hold each other’s hand. Then we face the tree and kneel before it, in prayer and meditation. We both stood back up. “Now you may take your bride under your protection,” the maester told Bran. He removed the cloak from his shoulders and placed it on mine. Then the Maester approached me with a crown, placing it on my head, “Tsireya Targaryen Stark, our Queen of the North!”

Sansa signaled a maid to grab a dragon glass blade. The maid gave it to the maester. The maester first gave it to Bran, he puts it against his bottom lip and slides it down, making it bleed.

He then cuts his hand before giving it to me to do the same. After I cut my lip and hand, he first rubs a mark on my forehead and then I do the same to him. This signifies the continuation of our bloodline. We both take each other’s bloody hand as the maester wrapped the wedding cloth around them.

Bran and I both pledge in Valyrian, “One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” We repeated the vows in common tongue for everyone else to understand.

The maester announced us as husband and wife, “you may kiss the bride.”

Our lips crashed together as the crowd cheered for us and clapped. Bran then lifts me up and carries me the rest of the way to the Great Hall, for the feast.

“To our new Queen of the North!” Bran shouts, lifting his goblet. The Lords begin to shout, “Queen of the North!” I giggled in embarrassment as I drunk out of my cup. We were presented with so much food! We wanted to try every dish, but we were full by the time we reached the third.

“How does it feel to be queen now?” Arya asked me.

“It feels nice,” I smiled.

“I have a wedding gift for you,” Bran said. He signaled the servants to bring it out. It was a Targaryen themed saddle! “I remembered when we talked about saddles for the dragons so…I had two get made for us! This one is yours!”

“Thank you, Bran!” I kissed him on the cheek.

The musicians played a certain song that sounded familiar. It was the song that played when Bran and I danced at the harvest. Bran smirked at me and offered his hand, “Kostagon eman bisa lilagon, ñuha dāria? (May I have this dance, my queen)”

“Kessa,” I accepted, placing my hand in his. We both went to the dance floor and did the same moves we did before as kids. This time, it felt so much more magical than before.

(Imagine them dancing like this)

Everyone watched as we danced in silence until we were finished. They applauded us and then everyone joined us on the dance floor. We did it the same way before, copying our dance moves and switching partners after we finish.

We were all having a blast! The feast started to get more hectic. The music was barely heard, the men were drunk and touching their women, and it was getting hotter. It was about time for bed.

“Now it is time for the bedding!” Bran announced, “but I will gladly carry my own wife to our bedchambers!” He picked me up as I giggled, blushing.

“Don’t be too loud now!” Arya shouted, making the hall laugh.

“Shut up!” We both yelled as we left.

For the bedding, we were given a special room. It sort of reminded me of Bran’s room, just filled with rose petals and nicely scented candles.

As soon as Bran shut the door closed with his foot, we immediately started to kiss each other, moving our mouths in sync. His lips were perfectly plump and so smooth, I could kiss them all night.

We were both waiting for this moment, just the two of us, alone with no interruptions. Bran gently placed me down, and we both started to remove our clothes. He finished a lot faster than me, leaving on his breeches. I insisted that I could do it on my own, so he went to his side of the bed and waited.

I placed the cloak and my white fur coat onto a chair. I started to remove my dress, Bran watched me in admiration as I gracefully removed it, revealing my corset, short braies, and high socks I had under my dress. Before I could hop into the bed, I seductively took down my bun and unbraided my hair, shaking my hair back and forth letting it fall on my back again.

I crawled to him from the foot of the bed. We were both blushing extremely hard. I took a moment to stare at his body. He was slim, but also had a slightly toned build. He was beautiful.

We both have been waiting for this moment, but it still felt a little silly and strange. We both laughed and giggled as I had my body over his.

Bran sat up and placed his hands on my hips as I straddled him. I wrapped both of my arms around his neck. We looked into each other’s eyes and then started to kiss again. The longer we kissed, the more hungrier we grew. This time, Bran opened his mouth more for my tongue to enter. He moaned as I explored his mouth with my tongue, whispering my name. He tried to find the strings of the back of my corset, but it was hard for him to see. He was too overflown with pleasure, keeping his eyes closed.

He managed to untie it and gently takes it off of me, tossing it across the room. He innocently couldn’t stop staring at my chest. I stop kissing him and giggle. I start to feel something strange under me. I glanced down at his breeches, noticing a bulge. I blushed really hard, chuckling, “oh, I guess you like what you see…” He turned completely red, “hey, stop picking on me!” He whined, with a slight grin on his face. I showered his whole face with kisses, making him giggle, “as my King commands.”

I took his two hands and placed them on my breasts for him to feel them. He looked from his hands to my eyes, his were filled with such curiosity and admiration. We started to kiss again, as he massaged my chest. Our tongues were dancing with each other as we kissed. I started to slowly grind on him, making him moan louder. We stopped kissing, out of breath, and I looked down at his breeches. “Do it,” Bran commanded desperately. “Yes, my king,” I tease, giving his nose a kiss.

I start to undo his breeches as he silently watched me. I threw them across the room like he did with my corset. I bit my lip as I looked upon him, blushing. His whole body is beautiful. “I guess you like what you see too?” He asked, laughing. “Yes, I do..” I proudly admit to him. “Alright, my turn!” Bran playfully yelled, switching our positions suddenly. “Oh!” I exclaim snickering, surprised that he did that. Bran started to carefully remove my white high socks and threw them at the side of the bed. He started to eye my braies asking, “may I?” I nod, letting him do the honors. He pulled down my braies and threw it at the side of the bed too. Bran scanned my face and body, “wow.” “What?” I asked. “You’re beautiful, Tsireya. Please don’t ever forget that. Inside and outside,” he said. I blushed replying, “thank you Bran, so are you…”

He kissed me slowly and passionately as I closed my eyes. I bit down on his bottom lip, making him groan in excitement. He positioned himself at a better angle on top of me and he looked at me, asking for permission, he didn’t even need to ask, I gave him a little nod as I panted. He tried to enter inside me, but it wasn’t going in. This was our first time after all. “S-Sorry…” he told me, embarrassed. I place my hand on his cheek giggling, “it’s okay!” After he kept thrusting a little more, I moaned loudly as I felt Bran unexpectedly entered in. Honestly, I didn’t care if people could hear us anymore. I started to whimper as he moved up and down on me slowly. “D-Does it hurt?” He asked me, worried. “No, no, it doesn’t hurt it just feels different,” I said, “but I like it…keep going.”

Without saying a word, he nodded and continued on. He kissed me again, traveling from my mouth to my neck, making me gasp. He started to gain more speed, thrusting harder and harder. I wrapped my legs around his waist, screaming his name in pleasure, “Bran!” I was a little embarrassed that I screamed but I was too in the moment to care.

As we released ourselves, both of us moaned extremely loudly. Bran then sighed and dropped right next to me, “well, we just did that.” We were both out of breath. “Yeah,” I chuckled, “Arya is going to tease us a whole lot tomorrow…” we both laughed. I turn to Bran, laying my head on his chest. “I can’t believe it,” Bran said, playing with my hair. “Us, King and Queen of the North, I never would have thought I would become king. Now, I must be like Robb. I have to be brave, we both do. We must protect our people from the Night King and the dead. No matter what happens, we go through it together.” “Yeah, together.” I agreed, “when will Jon and Daenerys be here?” “They’ll be on their way soon, when they do come, we must tell Jon. Tell him about who he truly is.”

We both just laid in the bed in silence, not sleepy. “So, what now?” I ask him. “Hmm,” Bran thought out loud, “you wanna do it again?” I giggled, “I’m up for it if you are…” I threw my leg over both of his. “I am all yours, my king.” I whispered, running my finger down his chest. I slightly winced as I felt him inside me again but quickly pushed the feeling aside. He gripped my hips hard as I began to ride him, “gods, I love you so much,” he moaned submissively.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

When it was breakfast, we were already expecting Arya to say something. “How did you sleep?” Sansa asked Arya. “Well it could have been better,” she replied. She looked at us and then smirked, “I mean, practically the whole castle could hear those love birds. How is one supposed to sleep when all you hear is screaming?” We rolled our eyes at her, but we still turned red.

I won’t lie, after our bedding, we made love many days after. We just loved each other so much. Arya continued to playfully complain about our sounds of pleasure. “What can I say, I love to ride,” I said jokingly yet serious.

One night before we could remove our clothes, we heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” Bran said. A man entered the room, but he looked familiar. It was the man who helped us get beyond the wall! “Samwell Tarly,” Bran stated. “I thought you would have forgotten me,” Sam said, surprised Bran even remembered. “I remember everything now,” Bran replied.

Sam noticed me in the room, “o-oh, am I interrupting something?” “No,” I reassured him, “please come sit.”

He nodded, smiling, and closed the door behind him. “Thank you,” Bran said, “for getting us beyond the wall, you’re a good man.” “Gee, thank you, your grace, though I’m not really sure that I am,” he replied, “what happened to you, outside the wall?”

“I trained to become the three-eyed raven.” He told Sam.

“Oh! I…don’t know what that means…”

“It means I can see the past and sometimes glimpses of the future. I can see what happens now, well when I choose to.”

“What brings you to Winterfell?” I asked Sam.

“Is Jon here?” Sam asked. “I came to see him.”

“No, but he is on his way back with Daenerys Targaryen from Dragonstone.” Bran answered.

“Did you see that in a vision?” Sam asked.

Bran showed Sam a little letter that was sent by a raven.

Sam, feeling dumb, chuckled, “oh.”

“When he comes, we must tell him the truth,” Bran said.

“About what?”

“About himself…no one knows, no one but me and Tsireya.”

“He isn’t the son of Eddard Stark,” I told Sam, “he’s the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.”

“They held a secret ceremony to get married, in Dorne.” Bran said.

“Oh gods,” Sam exclaimed, “then that would mean he’s…”

“The rightful king of the 7 kingdoms…” Bran said, finishing Sam’s sentence.

A week later…

I’ve been starting to feel strange lately. I’ve been getting more cramps than usual, and my stomach has been making me feel queasy and nauseous. What’s going on? I didn’t let Bran know about anything, I just went to my maid about it.

“What does it mean?” I asked her. She began to cup my breasts, examining them. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. She looked up at me and replied, “your breasts, they are more swollen than usual. Does it hurt when I do this?” “It does feel a bit sore..” I answered. “When was the last time you bled, my queen?” She asked. My eyes widened, I’m pretty sure I was supposed to start bleeding by now. She took my hand and placed it on my flat belly, “my queen, you are with child, the gods have blessed you!”

I continued to sit there, thinking to myself, me, pregnant? When the Long Night is coming? I can’t believe it…he’ll never let me fight if I told him now. “Shall we inform the King?” She asked me. “No, it’s fine, I can tell him when the time feels right.”

┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈

(a/n) Hey guys, sorry I’ve been slacking in posts but I started writing some chapters so they should be out soon! I hope you are enjoying the story! :)

Taglist: @icarusignite @rinisfruity14

[vhagarfire]

Bran Stark x F!reader

First writing post on tumblr! I hope you enjoy it. I know Bran doesn’t actually walk much and is technically not “Bran.” Let’s just pretend like he walks fine for this story.

Description: You and Bran have been friend since you were children. While the boy has changed, seeing as he is no longer a boy. You still adore him and enjoy being around him. After all these years he realizes why you enjoy being around him so much.

Does he feel the same way?

Warnings: Smut

“Hello Bran,” I speak, a gentle smile tugging at my lips.

“Y/n. What are you doing?” He asked, the slightest hint of a smile.

I look over the boy. The two of of us are standing outside in the snow. I admire his fur coat, it always looked so wonderfully warm.

“I came looking for you.”

“Why? What do you need from me?” He raised one of his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes at my long time friend, “I just wanted to spend time with you. Is that a bad thing?”

It seemed as if lately he had less and less time for me. When we were kids, we were almost inseparable. Yet now he asks me what I want from him. Things had changed since he had fallen from that tower.

“Why would you want to spend time with someone like me?”

“Because I like being around you.”

Bran gives me a mischievous smile, “What do you like about me?”

I place my hand on my hip, “A lot of things. I just enjoy being around you.”

He takes a step closer to me. My heart picks up at the close proximity. I love and hate when he teases me like this.

“Are you sure there’s not something else that it is you’re after?” He speaks in a playful manner.

I blush lightly, I ask him something else like what? He smiles as if he enjoys seeing me panicked.

“Something like my attention. Perhaps romantic attention?”

I attempt to hold my composure, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind your attention…”

“Is that so? Do you find me attractive?” Bran smiles as he asks this.

I look at him funny, “Oh shut up!” Playfully, I smack his arm.

He burst out laughing, grabbing his arm in “pain.” I can’t help but chuckle at this. He looks at me, pausing for a moment.

“So… Would you be interested in perhaps… Going out sometime, like a date?”

I look at him, waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, I realize he’s serious. I nod my head at him.

“Have you thought about asking me before?”

He admits that he fantasized about it. He never did it in fear of being rejected.

“I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

“I’ve always liked you Bran,” I grab his hand gently.

Bran’s face lights up. As soon as I finish speaking he leaning in toward me. Placing a lingering kiss to my lips. His lips are soft, the kiss is gentle. I kiss back, taking in the moment . The kiss stops, Bran pulls me into a hung tightly against his chest.

“Would you like to come to my room for the night? We can spend some alone time together. We won’t be interrupted…”

“I would like that very much.”

Bran leads me to his room. I look around, it fits him nicely. The corner is lined with books, maps, and artifacts from before the Andals came to Westeros. Bran’s desk is set up here, with piles of unfinished history scripts, maps of the North and several old books. I walk over to the books, picking one up. I look at Bran, smiling.

Bran walks over, I set the book down. He gently grabs my cheek, brining me into a kiss. When he pulls away he takes my hand. Leading me to the bed he sits down. I take this as an opportunity to sit on his lap.

“What would you like to do Bran?”

He rests his hands on my hips, “I think you know what I would like to do. I’ve never been… physical with anyone,” he pulls away a little, “If you’re not ready. I’ll respect that, we can wait.”

I reach my hand up, tracing his jawline, “I hope you don’t think me any less of a lady… However I wish not to wait. Do to me what you please.”

Bran bites his lip, looking up at me, “If you’re sure, then I would be more than happy to…” his grip on my waist tightens, “… do what I wish.”

He kisses me deeply, hands roaming my body. I back, tugging on his shirt as a suggestion. He doesn’t hesitate to take his shirt off. I begin to gently run my fingers down his chest.

“Am I making you happy?” He asks.

“Quite,” I reply.

Bran smiles, “Good, very good.” His face looks thoughtful for a moment, “How about I show you how happy I can make you?” His hands begin to trail up my back.

He kisses down my chest, his breath growing heavier as he reaches my midriff. His hands continue to move. My body begins to tingle. I press my hips forward and down into his lap. A grown escaping his pretty lips.

He giggles at your bodies reaction. His hands travel downward as his kisses get more passionate and intense.

His hands travel under my dress, “Is this okay?”

I nod in anticipation. He speaks again, “I’ll be gentle.” His lips graze my neck.

As promised he gently slips a finger inside. He starts slow, curving his finger ever so slightly. He can’t help but stare at your beautiful face. A small whimper escapes me, spurring him on. He continues to kiss me, his hands moving at an increased speed now.

“Does it hurt?” He looks at me with a lust filled look.

I shake my head no. He takes this as a sign to add a second finger. My body feels like it’s in heaven. A knot begins to build in my stomach, before quickly snapping. I lean my forehead on his neck. He slows down, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Do you want to go all the way. We can stop if you would like, I won’t be mad we can stop immediately.”

The concern and softness of his face makes my knees feel weak. I reassure him that I feel perfectly okay. I’m ready for us to commit ourselves to each other.

He nods his head, carefully taking off my dress. I get off his lap, allowing him to slip off his pants. I look at his groan area, he is quite an impressive size. I shutter lightly knowing what’s to come.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, okay? We can go slowly.”

I nod, allowing him to lay me on the bed. He places himself above me. His eyes search mine for approval, I let out a small yes. He pushes himself in, watching my face.

I grab his other hand, threading our fingers together. For a moment, it seems the world has slowed. Honing in on the two of us. His eyes soften as he continues. As I get to used to this feeling, It’s suddenly painfully slow. I look at him, pleading for him to pick up the pace.

He does so great fully. Still staring at me with adoring eyes. A smile stuck on his face. The both of use begin to be vocal, enjoying each others noises. His groans and whimpers only spur me on.

“Bran..” I softly moan, slightly tugging his hair.

He too calls out my name, I can tell he’s getting close. He brings one of his hands to caress my cheek. He leans down, kissing me with an intense passion.

His pace picks up even quicken than before. His motions become sloppy. Every movement bringing me closer to the edge. Finally, my body explodes with pleasure. Bran quickly pulls out, he too quickly reaching his end.

After we were done, Bran cleaned himself and I. We laid back on the bed, his back against the mattress. I allowed my head to rest on his still bare chest. He looked down at me, placing a kiss on my head.

“I very much enjoyed this.” He gently played with my hair.

“As did I..”

I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep in his arms…

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P3)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself enjoying the past with Cregan more and more.

There is light smut in this one. You have been warned.

Part 1, 2

Masterlist

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

Only two days later did it happen again. 

She and Robb were in the crypt visiting Robb's ancestors for the first time since their marriage.

The torch lit up the dark cavern and only the sound of their footsteps and water dripping could be heard. 

Her head moved on a swivel, going to each statue that was placed in the crypt. 

"And that's my grandsire, Rickard," Robb said as he pointed to the statue. "Oh, and this one," he said as his eyes moved to another one, "my father's sister, Lyanna."

She stared at the statue of Lyanna. She remembered her father, King Robert, who had spoken about Lyanna. 

His only love.

"She's beautiful," she said quietly. 

"Aye," Robb smiled. "The statue hardly does it justice to be honest with you."

She nodded, letting her feet begin to walk further into the crypt. Her eyes landed on a statue of a man, burly and broad. "Who is this, Robb?"

"Brandon. My uncle," Robb said with a downturned lip.

Her brows furrowed as she studied the face of him under the torch light, "He seems like he's never known a smile."

Robb couldn't help the light laugh that left him, "I don't think he did to be honest, my love." He let out a light sigh, "my mother was suppose to marry him."

Her eyebrows shot up and she turned to him, "What?"

"He died at the hands of the Mad King, along with my grandsire. They were trying to protect Lyanna."

Her eyes softened, "I am sorry. That cannot be easy to live with."

He shrugged lightly, "It is the past. So be it."

"That does not make it lighter of a burden."

"No," he said as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

He held out his arm to her, and the two continued their walk. 

As Robb pointed out various people, the were walking closer and closer to the eldest of the Starks. 

"Rodwell. Barthogen. That one is Jonnel. All brothers and Lords of Winterfell." His eyes roamed the statues he'd seen a million times before. "Raya. Mariah." 

It was a lot to take in for her. At least 300 years of history sat in these caves.

"Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, Eric…"

Cregan. 

Her head seemed to perk up at that. "I'm sorry. Which ones?"

Robb grinned, pointing them out again. "Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, and that one is Eric." 

Even from far away and by mere torchlight, she'd know the form of that statue from anywhere.

"My lord!" A voice called down the dark crypt.

Robb sighed, "Forgive me, love. I'll deal with this. Here." He handed the torch to her, "I'll return quickly. Do enjoy your time here."

She took the torch, feeling his lips brush a gentle kiss to her forehead before he walked away. 

Her eyes were glued to Cregan's statue. 

She forced her feet to take careful steps to the stone carving. 

It was a decent resemblance, she knew that. It seemed that his statue guaranteed him a longer life than she had seen, noting the changes in the face of it that could've only been made through time. 

He lived to be much older. 

He was no boy when she had seen him, no. But this in front of her? Was a man who had seen it all.

She looked back down the direction Robb had left before a soft sigh left her. 

She reached up, gently brushing the cheek of the statue, ignoring the dust that collected on her fingers. 

"You're not as handsome in stone," she mused in a whisper. 

When it seemed Robb wouldn't be back for a while longer, she lowered herself to the feet of Cregan's memorial to sit. 

She turned herself away from it, moving to lean back on the feet of his statue. She closed her eyes as tried to relax as she leaned back.

She let out a grunt as her back met the cold stone floor.

Her eyes shot open.

The crypt was a lot darker. 

She pushed herself up, looking around in confusion. 

Cregan's statue wasn't there. 

Most of the statues weren't there. 

Every newer statue Robb had shown her only minutes ago was nowhere in sight. 

She stood with the torch, cursing lightly. 

Of course, it had to happen again.

…

After a while of losing her way in the dark, she managed her way back out of the crypts.

In the middle of a heavy snow. Winterfell wasn't far if she hurried. 

The snow was thick and she was hardly near wearing the right boots for it. 

In her time, it hadn't snowed in almost two weeks. But here? It seemed to be the first snow of the winter. 

She pulled her thin cloak around her and placed the hood over her head. 

It was going to be a long trek.

…

Nearing the doors of Winterfell, one of the guard's eyes widened, "My lady!"

He ran to her, "Are you hurt, my lady?"

She was shivering. She moved to speak, but her jaw chattered too harshly, so she shook her head. 

He nodded, "C'mon. I'll get you to Lord Stark myself."

The man shrugged off his cloak, throwing the heavy furs over the girl. 

They made it into the castle walls in no time, and a message was sent to Cregan. 

The guard forced her to the nearest fireplace, barking at servants to arrange for hot cloths. 

She stood shivering by the fire when Cregan entered. 

He stormed in, throwing the door open loudly. When his eyes met hers, they held a concern look to them. He quickly moved to her and took her face in his hands with a firm grip, "What were you thinking?"

"I was… I…" She tried to speak. 

"Gods, you're freezing! C'mere."

He held her to his chest, the warmth radiating off of him as it always did.

"Why were you out there?"

"I… I'm sorry…"

He sighed, "You're here now. I suppose that's all that matters."

…

"Where are you?" She asked with a giggle.

Her feet moved quickly, nearing the wardrobe she was sure younger Brandon was hiding in. 

She pretended to look around for him, and she smiled when she heard his giggle come from the wardrobe.

She ripped open the doors, laughing when she heard his playful scream. 

He made a run for it, moving down the hall at a fast rate. 

She ran behind him, determined to catch the boy and win the game. 

She rounded a corner, seeing him gone. 

She looked around as a small crease came to her brow. 

Perhaps he was too good. 

Or maybe she had returned. 

Brandon came from behind her, tackling her down. She grunted from the force, catching herself with her hands with a laugh. 

She twisted her body around to grab him in her arms and pin him down. 

"I win!" She panted. 

"Hardly." He teased. 

She scoffed and let him go, now sitting up. "I had you pinned."

"Yeah, but you were losing before."

She chuckled, "I don't believe that's how the game works."

He grinned, pushing her down again and trying to tickle her now.

She let out a shriek as he did so, but it was quickly gone when someone picked the boy up off the ground.

"Attacking my lady of Winterfell?" Cregan teased. "That's treason, boy."

Brandon wriggled in his brother's arms, "She started it!"

"Does not matter. I side with the lady." Cregan smirk grew, "Perhaps I should teach you a lesson."

"No! NO, Cregan! No, don't!" He giggled. 

Cregan turned to Y/n, "What do you think, my love? Shall the boy be punished?"

She sat up on the cold floor, "Do be merciful today, my lord. He's just a boy."

He grinned, "My lady has spoken." He set Brandon down and ruffled his hair, "But I'd best not see you attacking her again."

Brandon grinned with mischief, "Yes, my lord."

Cregan playfully pushed his head away, "Go on, Brandon."

The two watched him run off before Cregan's hand moved to help her up. "You two have much more energy than you should."

She smiled and brushed off her dress, "You say it as if it's bad."

He pulled her to him, "Only when I hear your shriek across the castle and I fear for you."

She scoffed, "It was not that loud."

He chuckled, "I assure you it was."

She flushed, "Apologies, Cregan."

He shook his head, "None of the sort. It's quite nice to hear your laughter throughout the halls."

She looked up into his eyes, studying them, "I'm glad."

He grabbed her chin, holding her in place, "You know, I've been missing you, as of late."

"Have you?"

"Aye. Quite fiercely."

Her eyes turned playful, "Well, I'm right here."

His darkened, "That you are."

He picked her up bridle-style with ease. She shrieked at the sudden movement and held onto his shoulders. 

"Scared I'll drop you, pretty?"

Her wide eyes met his. 

He grinned, "I've not dropped you before. I'd be a fool to now."

He began to walk down the halls of Winterfell, nearing their chambers. He threw open the door and playfully threw her onto the bed. 

He shut the door and locked it before moving next to her on the bed. "How long before they'll require our attention?"

"Who, my love?"

"The North."

She grinned, "A few minutes, I'm sure."

He gained a predatory look, "I can use a few minutes wisely."

She turned her head towards him, "You haven't yet."

He grinned, pulling himself over her and kissing her deeply.

She let out a groan at his suddenness and kissed back fervently. 

He pulled off his clothing piece by piece without breaking their connection. 

She thanked herself for choosing a dress with ties at the front today, for now Cregan was eagerly yanking at them, pulling them out from the corset. 

He began to kiss down her neck, grinning when he hit a spot that made her moan.

"Can I have you, my love?" He asked against her skin. 

She sighed and closed her eyes, "Please."

He growled, capturing her lips again as he pulled her small clothes off, moving from her only to get it over her head then continuing as before. 

His fingers moved under them, tracing her thighs teasingly.

"C'mon, Cregan."

He smiled against her lips, "Yes, my lady."

He moved two fingers into her, watching the groan leave her lips. 

She could hardly think of Robb at this point. 

She let out shaky breaths as his fingers pumped in and out of her. 

"Ugh… Cregan…"

He grinned, "I know. I know."

He kissed her again, curling his fingers into her, catching her groan with his mouth. 

A knock sounded at the door, "My lord?"

Cregan's jaw clenched as he pulled himself up, not withdrawing his fingers, "What?"

"You're needed at the petition, my lord."

He grinned, curling his fingers again, watching her try to hold in a moan. 

"I'll be there momentarily."

He pulled his fingers out as he pulls himself away from her with a dissatisfied groan. 

He grabs his tunic, pulling it over his head as he looks over to her. 

She's staring up at the ceiling in thought. 

He smiles, kissing her cheek. "Join me?"

That's strange.

Robb never asked her to join for petitions. He always said there was "No reason to worry a lady with trivial things."

"You don't have to, of course."

She shook her head, "No, I… I would like that."

He nodded, his teasing smile returning, "Get dressed then, pretty. We've got the North waiting on us."

She sat up and kissed him, "Can't keep them waiting then."

Hopefully, the North was not waiting for her return to Robb.

Who knows when that will happen again?

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

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters, @happinessinthebeing, @abaker74, @helo1281917, @idonotknowenglish, @zizouu23, @aelora-a, @twinkletwinklenotastar

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.” 

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place. 

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but  you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks. 

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself. 

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats. 

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes. 

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it. 

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that. 

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten. 

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison. 

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him. 

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed. 

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.” 

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp. 

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line. 

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day. 

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him. 

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!” 

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers. 

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket. 

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?” 

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words. 

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.” 

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting. 

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison. 

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with. 

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door. 

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined. 

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed. 

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members. 

“What do you think Jesse's up to?” 

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.” 

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.” 

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again. 

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members. 

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother. 

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions. 

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[arcielee]

Ours never knew peace.

Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone... Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 7600 Warnings: Third POV and first POV, AFAB, mentions of infidelity, graphic violence, character deaths, and there is a hyperlink for the smut, so mind those warnings too. Author’s Note:  I definitely played with the timeline of the Dance of the Dragons a lot to fit with the narrative. Also, the idea is the bloodline stems from Cregan Stark's sister, which is why Lyanna's granddam is still kicking. Also, this was not beta read, please feel free to DM me any mistakes you may find 💜 A huge thank you to my Tumblr kindred spirits: to @aegonx for this inspiring gifset, and to my darling @itbmojojoejo for these perfect dividers 🦝💜 Also, to Hozier. I started writing this in June and had not touched it until I started listening to Unreal Unearth. The title for this and the smutty one-shot are from the song Francesca.

“I have a gift for you, my dear.”

Lyanna was leaning against the ornate balustrade and watching how the sun rose above Gods Eye. She drank in the sight of the rays dancing against the blue-green gemstone surface, shimmering with the rippling waves that met with the shoreline and towards the center where the Isle of Faces jutted upwards; she saw the weirwoods shift lazily with the breeze, its red foliage breaking away and littering the laketop, drops of blood.

She pulled her eyes away to see her granddam standing in her room, poised with her walking cane; a handmaiden was in tow, carrying a wooden box that had once been intricately carved into, though its detailing was now worn with age. 

Her granddamn was the matriarch of House Stark and the only mother figure she had ever known as hers passed away when she was very young, leaving Lyanna with her father and three brothers: Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen. Though she originally had come from a noble house in Oldcastle, she had been proud to don the grays and whites of House Stark, dignified in such a way it seemed that she was born into and not just married. 

Her reputation was notorious and though some would consider her shrewd, Lyanna knew her granddam had a sharp mind and wit, an undeniable ability to see beyond the façades of court with her storm colored eyes; she was gallant, devoted to her husband until his last breath and remained in Winterfell after, her devotion extending to the North. 

“This is my home,” she had explained as if it was the simplest thing. “Always.” 

Time now showed itself in silver streaks, a bold contrast with her dark hair that had been meticulously combed and knotted at the base of her neck, showing the severity that lined her features. This look alone had the other handmaidens–who before had been aimlessly flitting around her room, coaxing Lyanna to ready for the day’s events–quickly excuse themselves, allowing her a moment alone with her granddaughter.  

“Set it there,” and the remaining handmaiden jumped to command, placing the wooden box on the vanity before following after the others. 

There was the click of her cane with her sure steps, one hand resting on the gilded handles and the other coming to place on the edge of the wooden box, its brass hinges groaning in response to her opening it. Placed against the velvet inlay was a necklace of a peculiar silver that did not shine, but seemed to permeate a strength despite its delicate, celtic chains interwoven with one another; its pendant, a sapphire stone no larger than a silver pence, was nestled in the same style, curled around to hold it in place. 

Only the stone gleamed, just like the water’s surface–alluring, calling, but she kept her hand at her side. “It is beautiful,” Lyanna acknowledged. 

“It is reforged Valyrian steel,” her granddam continued, and she was pleased to see how her eyes widened with a reverence for the rare medium. “This is a heirloom that has been passed down, once belonging to your thrice over granddam. It is something for you to wear today.” 

Lyanna remained rooted, only a wistful sigh in response. “This is my duty in life now, to be adorned in gems and silks and rare silvers, just to be shown off at this event.” 

“It is our lot in life, yes,” her tone cut through the self-wallow. “Lord Whent wants nothing more than to parade the money he poured into this cursed castle, to show off his simple-minded daughter to the highest bid. The queen of love and beauty,” and her laugh was sharp, “only her brothers would defend that nepotist title!” 

Lyanna felt her lips curl; she loved her granddam, dearly, especially when she was unabashed with her bold opinions. Her eyes fell back to the necklace. “Love and beauty,” Lyanna murmured. “No man has want for a clever wife.” 

It was her turn to sigh. “This can be true, but some are fortunate with their matches.” 

“Robert has no want for a clever wife,” Lyanna continued as if she had not spoken. “He wants something docile and pretty at his side while he wags his cock at every set of tits in Westeros.” She could see how the inside sagged with the weight of the necklace and a bundle of parchment that was tucked beneath, hidden in the folds of the fabric. 

Her granddam plucked the paper bundled together with string and then moved back towards one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace. “My dear girl, love is always unexpected. Perhaps in time, despite the faults you each share,” she gave a knowing look as Lyanna moved back towards the bed, “you, hopefully, may have a gradual love and respect grow between.” 

“He is already convinced it is love,” she sat back on the mattress, sinking against the goose feather pillows piled at the head. “But it is with this idea of me. He does not know me, who I am truly or what it is that drives me…” her eyes were drawn again to the box, opened still, and to the glint of the sapphire. “How did this come to our possession anyway?” 

“It was a gift,” her granddam scoffed, untying the string and smoothing the letters on her lap. 

Lyanna closed her eyes a moment, her own smile playing at her lips. “Yes,” her tone forced, “but who would have gifted this to her to begin with?” 

Her granddam hummed, now her turn to smile. “How clever of you to ask, sweet girl,” but she did not answer Lyanna. “I saw how you are blossoming into a lovely young woman, especially after last night’s banquet,” and she saw that her granddaughter grinned, cheeky. “Ancestry has its weight with House Stark, and I thought now is the time to gift this necklace, just as your grandsire gifted it to me, and how it was given to your mother, who listened to me read this, years ago,” and she gestured to the letters.  

Lyanna reached for the pillows, fluffing them and sinking back into them, her arms folding behind to hold her head upright. “I would never deny my granddam of my company,” she teased.

“Yes, how kind of you,” her tongue wet her lips, her eyes flitting over the first page. “Now shut up and let my old eyes read.” 

And so she began.

It was the unmartyred act of my mother to bring me into the world. My father was a proud man, an honorable man who would never blame me, but I could see how he would wilt in my presence; perhaps it was that I reminded him of her as I grew, reminded him of the cost of her life so I may live instead. My brother, Cregan, kept his grief quiet, though it clouded his storm-gray eyes with this pain, this hurt that shadowed behind his irises. 

With the unsaid, I know my existence haunted my father, Lord Rickon Stark, the Warden of the North, to his grave. It was only then that Cregan truly recognized me with our sorrow now shared, as well as the burden as our uncle Bennard was quick to come to Winterfell, bringing his shrewd wife and his sons, our wretched cousins. 

I could only watch from the shadows with how Cregan fought to stay afloat with the smothering regency brought with them; our uncle was cunning, wishing to isolate my brother, which was why it was decided for me to be sent away to King’s Landing. It was under the promised lady-in-waiting for Princess Helaena Targaryen, though its true intention was for me to marry a Targaryen prince, for the opportunity to have a Stark within the royal inner circle and a direct line to the Iron Throne. 

Cregan hugged me farewell, the whispered promise that he would write, and I was ushered into the carriage, cramped with my trunks, and my aunt Margaret, with her wardrobe and endless idylls of how I would lure King Aegon II. 

I reminded her that King Viserys was not dead, and of the crowned Princess Rhaenyra. She bristled with her response: “No woman will ever rule the Seven Kingdoms.” She embellished this, and her inane plans to make me a princess; I had just turned ten and three with the soured taste of her words the further south we traveled. 

We arrived at the capital almost two months later, coming as the last of the daylight disappeared in the horizon, with the full moon and stars already glowing in response. I wished to sleep, but was forced to bathe, to be soaked in a gilded tub with rose petals that floated on the surface while hands flitted over combing and scrubbing and cleaning every bit of me, all while my aunt hovered with her critiques. 

The next day was our debut luncheon, allowing my formal introduction to the House of the Dragon. My aunt was peevish that the king did not join, we still met with the queen and Lord Hand, who introduced Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. 

It was said that Prince Daeron was away in Oldtown and Prince Aemond would not attend either, but did not speak more of it. 

The prince and the princess held their old blood features, the shades of purple in their gazes and the gold-silver of their hair, a contrast to their mother’s auburn and her dark eyes that were watchful and worrisome. 

Prince Aegon already had an exhaustion lining his face, with shadows that stretched beneath his lilac eyes, something heavy for someone only two years older than myself. In time I would learn that his shoulders sagged with the forced Hightower expectation placed, and its accompanying slow suffocation. The prince responded to it as well as any adolescent with unwanted responsibility: to rebel. 

The princess–who we learned, to the woe of my aunt–was his betrothed, but that day she also became my savior, in a sense. Though she carried her own burdens, something deeply rooted within the ichor of Old Valyria that surged her veins, her company was enjoyable, nonetheless. 

I enjoyed my time spent with the princess, learning of her fascination with entomology, with a favoritism that stemmed towards arachnids; though I found it unsettling, I still knew it was better company than my aunt. I was devoted to the task to fill mason jars with dirt, leaves, sticks to create little habitats for her ever growing collection, and it became our daily ritual to walk the gardens of the Red Keep, always in search of more to add or to release others who dutifully served their time in their glass confines. 

One thing I noted was her utterances, her singsong riddles on repeat. “Be mindful,” she said with a hum one afternoon.

“Of what, princess?”

“A song of ice and fire,” her eyes were glassy, sorrowful. “It is a tragedy, again and again…” 

My evenings were held captive by my aunt and her ever growing determination to force her way into the royal social circles; her daily mantra to remind me of the two remaining Targaryen princes, how I need my focus to be on snaring one of them. 

I knew that Prince Daeron was a child and away in Oldtown, which left the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond, who I thought peculiar and quiet. He was isolated the first six months after we arrived, and I heard the whispered incident at Diftmark that had involved the crowned princess and her bastard sons; I also learned how it ended with the loss of his eye, but that was not learned until Princess Helaena brought me to visit with her brother. 

“It would be good for him,” and her lilac eyes sparkled. 

He was sullen, but rightfully so; he was still bandaged and refused the milk of the poppy, though I knew he was hurting, his anguish was vicariously heard with the roars of his dragon, Vhagar, whose bellows rattled the entire capital, leaving the inhabitants uneasy. 

Eventually, Prince Aemond healed enough to leave his room, though the queen was still adamant he not venture outside of the Keep. I watched him, a dragon caged, stalking the corridors, a dark passing in search of confrontation, his unbridled want for vengeance and his inability to see it through; a tormented unrest, an unruly anger from the injustice of what happened that fateful night at Driftmark.  

I had been present for over a year and would inevitably have the misfortune to cross his warpath, alone, without my shield of his sister. It was a foreboding presence that drained the air, a palpable anger that hung heavy, and I flinched, perched by the window, curled up with Ten Thousand Ships. 

“What are you doing here?” He spat. 

I remember how his anger darkened his features shown, but the rest was still hidden beneath bandages wrapped around his silver head. “Reading,” was all I dared reply, refusing to look away from the pages as if the very tale of Nymeria held me captive. 

“They educate the women in the North?”

His words were mocking and this is when I pulled my eyes away to meet with his one uncovered. “The North does not only teach their women how to read, but how to fight as well, my prince,” my tongue had a life of its own I could not control, sneering his title in return.

Her granddam paused a moment, peering over the edge to see how Lyanna had shifted; she was now closer towards the foot of the bed, curled up with one of the pillows, her eyes glowing with admiration. 

“My great-great-great granddam was fearless,” Lyanna concluded.

She chuckled in response. “It is a trait in Stark women, that is for certain,” she clucked her tongue. “Stark men also search for strong women to survive the winters. Maybe another day I will tell you about your great-great-great aunt Alysanne Blackwood.” 

Her eyes shone. “I would like that very much.” 

And then, her granddam continued. 

I would learn that Prince Aemond was just lonely; allowed out of his quarters, his mar was forever isolating with how the castled treated him with kid gloves, like an open wound that never healed despite the jagged red of new flesh mended, cutting from his brow to his cheek and peeking beneath the eyepatch he took to wearing. Though he would never apologize for that day in the library, the next time I found him within the walls I saw he was lost in the pages of Winter’s Kings, or the Legends and Lineages of the Starks of Winterfell. 

I could only assume it was all the apology that could be expected of a dragon prince. 

Our friendship was something predetermined by the gods, or this was what Princess Helaena wholeheartedly believed; for a time, we were a trio of lonely souls akin and knitted together until the princess inevitably became pregnant with the twins. And then, there was the subtle change of our dynamic with the seasons passed, an initial wariness that settled in the edges of his features that only softened whenever I took his hand and pulled him forward. 

Perhaps he believed that I would abandon him for his sister’s company, which would be expected of her lady-in-waiting. But I did not. 

Instead I indulged the prince and his company, and we became inseparable; whether we visited with his sister, playing with the little prince and princess, while Helaena budding with a third, or going to the courtyards to train under Ser Criston’s watchful eye and my aunt’s apparent disdain. It was then that the evenings became our own and spent in the library of the Keep; it was here that Aemond dared remove his eyepatch, the sapphire stone that showed brilliant from his scarred socket. 

The first time, I stepped closer so his nervous exhale fanned my cheeks; I could see the plumes of pinks to his features, my fingers ghosting his jawline as I attempted his ancient tongue. “Gevie.” 

Beautiful. 

Prince Aemond was respectful, always, but he was also fearless with me, allowing the same sense of freedom in return, to speak my mind as I always had. But I faltered with what I truly wished to say: that the years crafted him beautiful as any Targaryen prince, with sharp edges chiseled from marble stone, his lips that curled with a perpetual smirk as he voiced his peculiar insight which always led to a good natured battlement between us, leaving me flushed. 

And then the day came that he took my hand, that his palm now enveloped my own. 

It was the familiar touch now paired with a feeling, a fluttering in the pit of my stomach that I could not place, though writing these words allows a clearer perspective with the retrospect: that I was falling in love with him. 

My aunt grew more insufferable with the passing days, though I expected as much with the letters I exchanged with Cregan. I knew his every action in Winterfell, what he was learning, of his sweetheart Lady Arra Norrey, my new nephew, but mostly of how our uncle continued to tighten his hold. My brother was a wolf, restless, and spoke that his hour was coming; and meanwhile, I continued to play my role, a simpleminded girl from the North. 

My aunt tsked. “He will never see you as more than a plaything,” as if this was a cruel fate. In truth I was still so unaware of what was growing within the confines of my heart, but I knew that I only wished to remind at his side, devoted, present, always. 

So when Aemond asked that I finally become acquainted with Vhagar, I went. I remembered how my hand fit within his as he pulled me to follow his steps, moving through the ingresses that weaved with the castle walls. We broke out to follow the coastline, a crisp salt air and the clouds covering the sun, heavy with the threat of rain, but Aemond promised we would rise above them. 

I followed his long steps until we came to where Vhagar waited for her rider, diligent, alert. 

Dragons are magnificent creatures, and I swear them sentient with the bond I saw between Aemond and the she-dragon. Fear trickled my spine, but Aemond held onto my hand and I tightened in response to the massive eyes that focused on us, her pupils constricting in query. Aemond held up his other hand, the honey spill of his soothing voice of his old tongue to coax her and allow me to climb aback. 

I then felt the gaze of Aemond and refused to allow my fear to root me, moving to take the bottom rung of the rope ladder; he was pleased, a hum, the slight curl of his lips, and followed behind me with his promise that he would not let me fall. At the top, he pushed past to settle into the saddle, then reached to pull me behind and I settled against his backside. 

“Just hold onto me,” he murmured, bringing my arms around his slender waist. 

This moment I was adamantly aware that he was no longer that sullen child that sneered within his gilded cage, but against my hold that Aemond was solid, lithe, and so warm with a woodsy musk mixed with smoke against his skin. 

Pressed against, I was able to feel his low baritone command Vhagar, followed by her jolted steps forward, the beating of her wings to take flight. To feel this power beneath you is indescribable; I could not help my scream, my laughter from the exhilaration that that spate my veins; I dared not close my eyes, tears streaming, and I peered to marvel at how small the capital seemed beneath, how large the shadow we cast overhead. 

It was a newfound euphoria, and I felt my cheeks burn from the crisp air above the gray clouds, but I also knew it was from my close proximity to Aemond. I held onto him as we soared out over Blackwater Bay, and sighed from the touch of his gloved hand, from the heat that permeated through the leather when he placed it over my own. 

And I knew then that I never wished to let him go. 

He eventually brought Vhagar back to land onto the grassy knolls outside the city; the afternoon was growing late but there was still enough light to return. Aemond warned that my legs would be shaky and again he moved first, again with the promise he would not let me fall. 

I still trembled when he set me on the ground, his large palms kept their hold on my waist and my hands rested on his broad shoulders. My eyes were wide admiring the beauty of his mussed, silver braid, his cheeks lined with his dimples with his pursed grin. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Enjoy myself?” I was incredulous, I was a mess; windswept and blooming red, a grinning fool with tear-streaked cheeks, “Aemond, you showed me the heavens.” And a boldness pressed me onto my toes, my lips against his. 

It was my first kiss; it was a heartbeat’s length, it was everything, and when I pulled back, I fell solid to the earth, my soles grounded back on that gassy knoll. I looked up into his bicolored gaze, the lavender of one eye and the gleam of sapphire for the other that stared back. 

Aemond was unreadable in that moment, and I felt my blood surge from my heart and pour into my face; the quiet that settled between us the same length of the years I had spent in King’s Landing, a choking regret that burned in my throat with the thought that I had ruined everything built between us. 

Then he kissed me back. 

And I felt alive once more with the touch of his arm that curled around my waist, how his other hand followed the curve of my spine, tangling into my hair and holding me to capture my mouth. His lips were warm and soft and his tongue clever in a way that drew the very breath from my lungs. I melted against him, my fingertips soft to follow the sharp contours of his jaw, trailing his neck and grasping his collar to bring him even closer.

We only parted for air; the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his riding leathers, the crimson on his cheeks with his quiet confession, something he held close to his heart.

“For how long?” I breathed

And he thought for a moment. “Always.” 

To take his hand now was finding a piece that I did not know was missing from me; our fingers interlaced in a way that felt akin as if I held my own hand, though I knew it was him from the warmth of his skin, from the fire in his blood. By now the tendrils of dusk began to curl over the city, its amber hues bold against the blues and purples of the coming nightfall, but we continued our leisure pace back, Aemond and I. 

We were greeted by the gold cloaks at the gates and they escorted us back, and though he did not let go, I saw that it was no longer Aemond who held my hand but the second son of King Viserys, a Targaryen prince. He was stoic, but this time I could tell the other emotions that flittered beneath, his uncertainty of what awaited, but above that was his determination. 

We finally came to the barbican of the Keep where we were greeted by his queen mother, my aunt, and several White Cloaks. 

Relief washed over the queen while my aunt raged, lifting her skirts to meet us in the courtyard, her nails biting with her grip on my arm and pulling me back; the rushed spill of her words, “I cannot believe this unseemly behavior of a lady, unchaperoned with a prince! We are leaving this moment–”

I tried to twist away but she held on still, a madwoman. Aemond moved after, quick, and his anger burning from him and his long legs moved to block her path. “She will not be leaving.”

The finality of his words, the barrier his form created halted her at once and I felt my heart between my teeth. “My prince,” she stammered in response. “We must leave this very moment! We have imposed on your hospitality far too long as it is, and when my lord husband hears of her behaviors–” 

But she was unaware that Cregan and I wrote, dutifully; he shared his life within the walls of Winterfell, as well as his growing concern with the regency our uncle imposed still. She also did not know the newest letter I had received, how my brother was now the proper Warden of the North and our uncle imprisoned; my aunt paled with my words and it was commanded for her to be taken away. She did not leave quietly, her wails echoed and I watched impassively, knowing her every action was a self-serving and a selfish ploy for power for herself, her husband, for those wretched cousin kin in the North. 

And I knew I would not miss any of them. 

Ever the diplomat, the queen stepped forward with her congratulations for my brother, her condolences for the betrayal within our family, her practiced concern for my well being and its shift to confusion that knitted between her brows when she saw how I smiled at her son. She offered my escort back to Winterfell, but I was quick to decline as I knew I could not leave Aemond. 

I saw the understanding began to roll over, and she then asked her son if he loved me. Aemond responded, “I believe I always have, mother,” and I knew I loved him in return. 

It was decided that the ceremony would be held in the Royal Sept, and chaperoned until, though Aemond stole a moment to gift me this very necklace. I could feel the power of Old Valyria thrum from the metal, adoring how it was woven around the sapphire stone; he told me it was a piece kept from the same stone fitted for his eye.  

I lifted my hair and turned my back towards him, my skin prickling from his touch to clasp the necklace around my throat. 

He hummed. “Gevie.” 

Only a week later, and the service seemed surreal. I felt his warmth that held to the robe he brought around my shoulders, the touch of my palm on top of his large hand kept me grounded while the Septon wrapped the ribbon around; shy glances shared, me to Aemond and seeing his gaze on the sapphire stone beneath my collarbone. The muted words called for a kiss and I burned when Aemond captured my mouth with his own. 

The celebration after was an intimate meal with the king, who was a man withering away beneath a gilded mark, the queen, his siblings, and the Lord Hand, who seemed pleased with the idea of solidifying a truce with the North. 

But I could not think of politics this night, not with the subtle touches from Aemond, a warmth that curled in my lower abdomen when he inevitably took my hand, his low voice that tickled against my ear. “Come with me, my sweet wife,” as we walked towards his quarters.

Her granddam stopped abruptly, flushed. “Well, you understand what is implied.”

“Understand what?” Lyanna quirked her brow. 

It was a pregnant pause that allowed her eyes steel onto her granddaughter, and Lyanna returned her gaze with a cheeky, taunting grin. 

“It would serve you well to not agitate your elders.” 

“What a bore I would be if I was just another docile woman of nobility?” Lyanna countered, gleefully. “Granddam, Robert has bastards and I am no fool, I do not believe his immaculate conception claims…” 

“Yes, you are very bright,” she huffed. “Now hush up and let me read.” 

Our marital bliss that followed left me in a haze; Aemond was not one for public displays of affection and how I craved his subtle touches, his lingering hand that would have me blushing furiously in response. He would only hum, his perpetual smirk that played on his lips with my every visceral response to him. 

I wrote to Cregan and informed him of our union; he was quick to respond with his congratulations, as well as his newfound concerns, asking if it was true that the crowned princess had sired bastards with the intention to make them her heirs without ownership of her actions. 

“Our father was honorable until his last breath,” he wrote, “I would not besmirch his memory or our house, our legacy, for an oath made for bastard-born heirs to the Iron Throne.”

This was a topic I had already discussed in length with Aemond, even before we had even kissed. I was aware of his scar and its cause, and I knew of the old blood and the features lacking when it came to his nephews, something made apparent for the claimant hearings of Dirftmark, as well as the cruel response of Prince Daemon when a lord spoke out loud what the court was thinking. 

I answered my brother truthfully, knowing full well that this would sway the North behind Prince Aegon II.

And then King Viserys met his inevitable demise; the small council moved quick to announce that his final words were that he wished his firstborn son to take the crown. Aegon panicked, but my husband and Ser Criston fetched him, washed him, fed him, but also comforted him. 

It would be Ser Criston who coaxed him to the coronation, to be the one to place the crown of steel and rubies on top of his silver head, announcing: “King Viserys is dead, long live King Aegon!”

My husband would be sent to Storm’s End to negotiate a betrothal for his brother, Daeron, to one of the Four Storms. It resulted in tragedy, or vengeance on who spoke the narrative. The room stilled with Aemond’s words, the unspoken terror in the queen’s large, brown eyes, the shock that lined the severe features of the Lord Hand, but it was his brother, King Aegon wearing the Conqueror’s Crown who spoke that Aemond had shown the true blood of a dragon. 

But in the quiet quarters we shared, Aemond lamented the loss of life, the war it started, a guilt that weighed heavily, and once more I saw the sorrowful prince when I first came to King’s Landing. 

“There will be repercussions for my actions,” he rasped, unable to meet with my eyes. “I have ruined my namesake, and I have cursed our family…” 

“War seemed inevitable,” I began slowly, my hands careful to hold his jaw, to bring his gaze to my own. “And with it comes rash decisions, with impossible choices to be made…I trust it was not intentional, but even if it was, cursed or not, I am still yours, husband.” A soft kiss to seal my words. “Always.” 

War and its bloodshed was rampant in Westeros, and my brother wrote they would travel South when winter ended to help King Aegon with his rightful claim. I feared for the delay, for what would follow Storm’s End, and how it seemingly unleashed the Rogue Prince. 

Hired men with the monikers Blood and Cheese came in the night, and I knew them to be sent for me, as one repeated, “An eye for an eye, a son for son,” but followed with his slow realization, “she is not a son,” before his sword was drawn and struck Prince Jaehaerys. 

The screams of Helaena resounded against the cobblestone; Aemond found us covered in blood, his rage and his grief conflicting on his angular features. The king cried for vengeance for his firstborn son, to search for these men and place their heads on spikes; the kingdom was repulsed by the murder of the princeling, a martyr made with his blood spilled. 

Aegon’s bloodlust made for rash decisions and the battle of Rook’s Rest; though one dragon and its rider slain, its cost was the king crippled in a way that he was not fit to rule. So Aemond stepped forward to take the title Prince Regent and the Protector of the Realm, a natural role that was suited for the second son. 

The Rogue Prince struck against the Riverlands, torching until ash remained. In response, the now Prince Regent and Ser Criston left to claim Harrenhal. 

I was told to wait, to remain at the side of our grieving queen, my sister by all accounts; I watched over sweet Helaena, coaxing her to eat, washing her, sitting alongside her in the haunting silence of the quarters that somehow still echoed her screams from that fateful night. We were often left alone, as the maesters and the dowager queen never left King Aegon’s side, and I remained with her until I received the latest letter from Aemond. 

Harrenhal had been dispelled of every Strong traitor to the crown, and he spoke of a witch he wished me to meet, that I was to leave King’s Landing and be by his side, as the gods ordained. 

A quick kiss to the silver head of Helaena and I left the castle, careful to retrace our steps that led to the coast and I continued until I was back on the grassy knolls from what felt like a lifetime ago. I waited the skies until I felt the rumbled call of Vhagar in the distance, gleeful when she finally landed and watched my prince descend to envelope me in his arms, his whispered adoration, “My love, my sweet wife.” 

We returned to Harrenhal to meet with the witch he spared, a hushed reverence when he told me of her abilities. “She sees much and more.” 

I could see she was hardened by life, but her expression was kind when she greeted us; her eyes roamed around, watchful, looking through to my bones and only then did I understand what my husband meant. 

At supper, we sat around the table, along with Ser Criston, and her eyes watched the flicker of candlelight, the flames licking her irises, before she spoke: “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Aemond finished chewing before he asked her. “And I am which?”

Alys’ eyes were black, her painted lips curled and framed around her pearl teeth. “To be the greatness, you must end the madness,” was all that she offered, and then, “the Rogue Prince is coming.” 

Ser Criston looked uneasy, but it was a silent understanding in regards to her statement, something that pressed heavily on us both. King Aegon could only have a true chance to rule the realm if his sister lost the power she had with her husband, the Rogue Prince; it was known that he was unruly, untamed, but loyal to a fault, and willing to see it through to its brutal end. 

That night, we fell back into an intimate embrace, cherishing the feeling of skin to skin–

Her granddam was crimson. “Oh, my, I believe I should skip this as well–”

She watched her granddam a moment, the intrusive thought to take the letters for her own readthrough, but it was muted by a growing sadness that began to settle in the edges of her sharp features. Lyanna knew well the history of the Dance of the Dragons, something scrawled on scrolls and tomes, its tragedy saved in ink and tucked away.

And still, she had to know this truth.  

“Please,” and her voice was soft. “Please, continue.” 

And granddam did. 

It was the 22nd day of the 5th moon and we waited on the shores of Gods Eye, myself, Aemond, and the witch. Ser Criston rode North to meet with my brother, and we remained, waiting. 

It had been a vision for Alys, something sinister; it was no surprise when the wyrm screeched its arrival, circling above, wary of Vhagar, before finally landing. Prince Daemon had an arrogance with his dismount, with his walk towards us. 

There was a symmetry as they squared towards one another; the Rogue Prince was cloaked with the past and my Aemond embodied the future, the true hope for House Targaryen. My husband faced him, unflinching, his brow furrowed with his ever present determination, while Daemon rolled his eyes over the each of us, sucking his teeth. 

Aemond broke the silence. “You were a fool to come alone.”

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” Daemon was amused. 

But it did not deter my dragon. “Yet you are, and here I am,” he sighed. “You have lived too long, nuncle.”

“On that much we agree.”

The prince retreated to his wyrm and Aemond looked to me, his eye pleading, the glassy lavender that bore through my skin, and the gleam of sapphire for the other. He then dipped forward to kiss me and the tears pearling in the corners of my eyes spilled onto my cheeks at the taste of him, the touch of him; I knew I could never imagine anyone else. Those words stilled on my tongue, how I wanted him to beg to stay with me, but I also knew that he must. 

“Do not say it,” my voice broke, hushed against our kiss swollen lips. “Just come back to me.” 

His two fingers pressed against the sapphire pendant I wore, before leaning forward to press his lips to my hairline, and then he climbed aback Vhagar, his lithe body quick to mount. I remained on the sand with the witch at my side, and we watched these winged beasts rise above us. 

Dragons are truly magnificent, but they are also equally deadly. I trusted Vhagar was loyal to Aemond, but also knew it matched by the bond shared between Prince Daemon and his wyrm. It was said that Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, and I believed this as I watched them on dragonback, circling above the massive lake. Their roars vibrated through to our bones, the snapping of the jaws like cracks of lighting and their flames that singed the threads of my gown from my place on the shore. 

My eyes did not leave, and I asked Alys. “Will he live?” 

She was quiet for a moment. “The memory of him will live on,” and I felt her hand reach and touch my stomach. 

And all I could do was hold onto my pendant with prayers to the old golds, to the new gods for mercy for my husband, whose child I carried. 

They did not listen.

It was a clash of scale and bone, something that reverberated to Harrenhal and rattled the castle walls that still stood. The wyrm’s screams were cut short as the massive maw of Vhagar clamped onto its neck, and its talons flailed and cut deep into the old dragon’s underside. Blood rained onto the lake and I watched, struck with mortification at the dull glint of Valyrian armor, the flash raise of Dark Sister, and I knew it was over. 

I remained on the shore as the waves created from the fall of dead dragons crashed against the sand, a blood foam that flooded and wet my skirts. I remained still as the sun tucked beneath the horizon, until I heard the call of the witch. 

“My lady, the wolves have arrived.” 

This would be the shift of power needed for King Aegon II; the Rogue Prince was dead and his men fell to the sword under the command of my brother and Ser Criston. Cregan was shocked to see me and I was stoic still, dumbstruck with my grief that did not feel real; we returned to King’s Landing with the Northern army, quick to dethrone Rhaenyra and place her in the cells with the company of all the lords who supported her. 

King Aegon was scarred cruelly with a gimp to his steps, but he made his way to the Iron Throne, his crown of rubies and steel, and greeted his mother and the queen. This joyous moment died as I was tasked to share the news of the death of Aemond, of my husband and father of my unborn child; we cried our heartbreak, but I had no tears left. 

This pivotal moment would be known as the Hour of the Wolf by our history. It will speak of the heroism of Prince Aemond and what he sacrificed to kill the Rogue Prince, of how my brother descended onto the capital with a vengeance and helped return the throne to its rightful heir. The casualties of war included the bastard princes, as well as both sons of the king. 

When King Aegon learned that Prince Daeron the Daring met his fatal end, he decided mercy on the remaining Targaryen princelings, Aegon III and Viserys II, with his solemn vow to raise them as his own, as his heirs to the Iron Throne. 

Cregan served as Lord Hand through my pregnancy, for the birth of my darling Lysara with a patch of silver that showed against her dark curls and her eyes the same as her father’s, lavender. My brother had also been widowed but met the Lady Alysanna Blackwood, a woman I admired fiercely, and Lysara was smitten with, and was thrilled when I learned I could call her sister. 

It was then Cregan asked to be relieved so he could return to the North, to his son, and I asked to go with him. My time in King’s Landing was over, with every stone haunted with presence of Aemond; I already swore I would never marry again, would not dare have another set of hands touch and taint the memory of his hands against my body, his touch forever etched onto my skin and seeded into the marrow of my bones. 

Aemond would return to me at night, a silver dream, my body thrumming with the warmth of his touch, his gentle kiss, the low murmur of his voice, but it always ended the same: my realization when my hands pressed to his chest and felt no heartbeat.

That I would never feel it again.

The pain of losing him has not dimmed nor diminished with time, but I do not mind it as it serves as my reminder that he was real, and that the love we shared was real. 

As the witch predicted, Aemond also still lived within Lysara who was solemn, brilliant, and as determined and stubborn as he had been. I made sure to do an annual trip to King’s Landing, allowing her to meet her granddam, her royal family, and so that my daughter could learn that her blood not only held that of the Andals, the first men, but also of the fire that licks within her veins. 

Which is also why I write this, along with the gift of the necklace. It holds legacy, but also the reminder of the words Queen Helaena spoke to me when we were girls, something said a lifetime ago and before I could comprehend the weight of them. 

There is something in the blood of House Stark that calls out to these dragons, perhaps an ancient power of the old gods or a kindred spirit, the disparate bond of ice and fire, a clash that is brilliant, violent, and tragic, always. 

As she once said: a song of ice and fire, it is a tragedy, again and again…

It ended with a finality that rested against her chest. This was a tragic history of the crown, something already written with facts and dates, but this was a personal storying stemming from the blood of Stark woman, and only now did Lyanna begin to understand how the stories remained so vivid, so detailed despite its years of retelling. 

But also…

“What does this mean for me?” Her voice was soft, an almost childlike naivety to her tone. “I am already engaged to Robert Baratheon.”

Her granddam watched her, a tight lipped smile in response as her mind returned to the feast of last night, to the looks shyly exchanged between her granddaughter and the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, as he played his harp for her. It left her unsettled with a hunch, an inkling about this interaction. 

Instead she agreed. “You are right,” and she sighed. “Let me help you get dressed for the tourney.” 

The new Harranhal swelled with the life for the festivities, with the kingdoms’ best sent in response of Lord Whent’s invites; the new cobblestone seemed bright against the darkened foundation that still held, its ghosts trapped still and trampled underfoot by the crowds as the seats filled, the echoing chattered excitement that vibrated. 

It dimmed with a hushed reverence to see Prince Rhaegar Targaryen entering the field on his steed; his lavender eyes scanned the masses, an intent to spot one soul in particular, and she unknowingly called to him with her sweet smile, by the glint of the sapphire that rested against her chest. 

There's not one thing that I would change.

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[asa-do-your-thing]

The Game

18+ MINORS DNI Eddard Stark x F!Reader x Robert Baratheon 6.2 k Warnings: P in V sex, porn w/o plot, smut duh, virginity, alcohol, fingering, doggystyle, mmf, threesome, blowjob, cunnilingus, overstim, actualy really cute and fluffyas always no proofreading no nothing dedicated to @zaldritzosrose and @foxyanon <3

"Everything is fine," You assured Ned, your voice quiet as you looked over at him. He was holding your dress together at the back where he had accidentally ripped it with Brandon's shield. "It's fine, we can just wait here until my sister can bring me a new dress," you suggested. Robert Baratheon's tent was impressive in size - expected for someone of his status as head of House Baratheon.

Eddard Stark, the man you have long since felt affection for, stood in front of his friend and blushed as red as an overripe apple, and tried his best to look away from your exposed back. “Robert, I’m sorry, you know I couldn’t take her back to her family like that and I would dishonour her if I brought her back to my tent… Brandon sees everything and I couldn’t possibly harm her reputation…”, he rambled and looked apologetically at his friend.

Robert gave the two of you a wicked smile and wiggled his brows, before beckoning you to come closer. “Is that not the shy Lady you danced with yesterday, Ned? My, I did not think you to be so chivalrous. Or sly… it is not like I told you yesterday that the view of my tent’s entrance is obstructed…”

Your heart started beating rapidly as you watched the two handsome young men interacting with each other and felt the back of your dress drooping again, a cold draft passing over the tops of your buttocks. “Eddard, the dress!”

Eddard started, his gaze snapping back to you. He quickly gripped the torn fabric of your dress, drawing it together. "Apologies," he muttered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Robert roared with laughter, slapping his knee. "Seven hells, Ned! I've known you since we were boys, but I never thought I'd see the day when you’d be flustered by a woman’s bare back." Even as he teased, there was affection in his voice.

Eddard shot Robert an irritated look but held his tongue. He turned to you again, still fumbling with your dress, and then dropped his hands and looked helplessly at Robert. "I can't hold this all day," he admitted grudgingly.

Laughter still dancing in his eyes, Robert stood up from his seat at the head of the table and ambled over to a chest by the side of his tent. He rummaged through it for a moment and then came back carrying a thin fur cloak. "Here," he tossed it over to Eddard who barely caught it in time.

"Thank you," said Eddard quietly as he wrapped the cloak around your bare shoulders, careful not to let any more skin show than necessary.

The fur felt warm against your cooled skin and you sighed in relief. You turned around carefully to look at Eddard who was now standing slightly away from you. His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the remaining length of the cloak and your heart fluttered at the brief contact.

Meanwhile, Robert sat back down, eyeing both of you curiously. “Actually… Now that I’ve come to think about it, I’ll send a servant after your sister and tell her to forget your dress. I think we shall spend a wonderful evening here, instead of having to prance around in front of Lord Whent’s daughter and that Targaryen Prince once more. I have a bottle of strongwine I’d wish to finish with you.”

You nervously eyed Eddard and Robert, slowly shaking your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, I shouldn’t… I…”

Robert held up a hand to stop your protest. "Barely half a week in Lord Whent's castle, and you've already attended more tourneys than I can count," he said, then waved around the tent with a flourish.

"What is more enticing? Another night of listening to Whent’s daughter prattle on about the virtues of housekeeping, or an evening of mayhaps too much wine, laughter, and stories from two charming men from Great Houses?"

Eddard looked up at his friend, his eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden change in his tone. To you, it was clear that Robert had more to offer than just a simple drink; it was an opportunity to escape the stifling expectation of propriety.

He moved closer towards you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight and revealing a new depth of fondness. "I used to tell Ned that laughter is the best cure for everything - war, heartbreak, even frostbite." He paused, looking straight at you with a reassuring smile. "Perhaps it is time we tested that theory... together."

Silence hung heavy in the air as Eddard nervously rubbed at his neck. His shy, grey eyes met yours, pleading silently for you to consider Robert's offer. You saw not just affection from him but also a desperate desire for companionship - an appeal that tugged at your heartstrings. Your father would never have approved - this alone made you consider their offer.

Robert broke the silence by standing and extending a hand towards you. His eyes were warm as he waited patiently for your decision. "So?" he asked, his voice laden with anticipation.

You glanced over at Eddard one last time before finally reaching out and placing your hand into Robert’s, to which he softly made you shuffle over to a settee. “One evening won’t hurt,” you said with a small smile. “We already snuck around the tourney grounds last night, Eddard, and no one saw us. And you, Lord Robert, I’ve heard many good things about you. Some time with you and strong wine will not hurt, I think…,” you said softly, almost as if trying to convince yourself that whatever you were doing was, in fact, normal and alright. It would’ve been easier to do so, you thought, if the two of them did not make you feel giddy and if your dress - and to your horror, your shift under it - was not falling apart.

Robert’s laughter rang out again, hearty and infectious, filling the tent. “Ah, you underestimate us, my lady! We are far more entertaining than any tourney,” he declared, settling back onto the settee with an exaggerated flourish, his arm draped behind you and Eddard.

The evening passed in a whirl of stories and laughter, of shared glasses of strongwine and knowing glances. Eddard’s bashfulness was soon replaced by quiet amusement as Robert recounted tales of their childhood adventures — some heroic, some foolish, but all engaging. Eddard would chime in now and then with corrections or additions that made the stories even more enjoyable.

Your nerves slowly eased away as the night progressed. You found yourself laughing heartily at Robert’s boisterous jokes and charmingly exaggerated anecdotes. Eddard’s reserved wit added a refreshing touch to the cheerful atmosphere. The soft fur cloak provided not only warmth but also a sense of comfort and security amidst your unusual predicament, especially as you finally felt the last few inches of your dress and shift falling apart.

Robert had been right; this was indeed far better than another tedious evening at Lord Whent's tourney. The unspoken expectations for noble ladies like yourself were temporarily forgotten in the company of these two captivating men. And most importantly, you felt a strange sense of camaraderie with them, an intimacy that belied the short length of your acquaintance.

Eddard - no, Ned you were supposed to call him, Robert had said - looked at you then, a soft smile tugging at his lips as if contemplating an endearing secret. You met his gaze and smiled back, feeling a tenderness towards him that startled you with its intensity.

Robert interrupted the moment by raising his nearly empty goblet. “To unforgettable nights.”

You toasted back and finished your cup, your head body all warm and woozy. “This… this is the best I’ve ever felt. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Ned, much to your surprise, stayed quiet and eyed both you and Robert with a small smirk. His fingers gently touched yours as he looked deeply into your eyes. "You're welcome to stay longer, if you wish," he said softly.

“But… Lord Robert…?”, you asked quietly and looked at the big, muscular man with the beautiful blue eyes, who, just like Eddard, seemed to look better with every instant that passed.

“Oh, I won’t mind. Though… Actually, let us properly finish this bottle before we can even think about sleeping or leaving. My Lady, have you ever played truth or dare?”, Robert asked you with a smirk that mirrored Ned’s.

You blinked at Robert, taken aback by his proposition. “Truth or dare?” you echoed uncertainly. The game was something children played during frivolous feasts, not something that nobles such as yourselves indulged in. His smirk widened at your surprise, delight sparkling in his eyes.

“Indeed, my lady,” Ned chimed in, his grey eyes twinkling with mirth. “A chance to honor honesty or test courage. Both qualities we admire.” His gaze held a touch of challenge, daring you to accept their proposition.

A wary heart warred with a curious mind within you. But the boldness of the Baratheon and the comforting presence of Stark had already stirred a perilous thrill in you. This game could be terribly revealing and potentially jeopardizing. But it could also be liberating. You were never one to shy away from challenges.

“Very well,” you sighed dramatically, feigning reluctance. “I accept.”

Glee replaced the smirks on their faces as they hastily poured more strongwine into your goblet than was necessary, making you giggle at their eagerness. You raised an eyebrow at them suspiciously as they clinked their goblets against yours before gulping down their share heartily.

“As our guest of honor tonight, you shall have the first choice,” Robert declared after he set his goblet down with a loud clank. He was already halfway through his strongwine again and his cheeks reddened as he looked at you expectantly.

Your stomach fluttered nervously as you considered your options but seeing the anticipation in the men’s eyes only made you bolder. You wanted to prove to them that you were not afraid of their questions. Dares could easily be done - though the truth… the truth, in your opinion, could be far harder. “Alright, my Lords. I choose the truth,” you said with a small smile, not showing any reaction to Ned’s hand on your leg. You slowly understood what game was truly being played here, but to your own surprise, it only seemed to thrill you even more.

Robert, with a roguish grin, leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Very well," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Whom do you fancy more, Lady? Ned with his solemn eyes and honorable ways, or me with my charm and good looks?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as the words echoed in the air of the tent. The two men watched you expectantly, their eyes bearing into yours. This was indeed a tricky challenge, you thought with a soft smile. A truth that could possibly upset this delicate balance between you three.

"You're putting me in a difficult situation, Lord Robert," you said playfully, pretending to be distressed by the question. "Both of you have your charms."

Robert chuckled at your answer while Ned's grey eyes were unreadable but his hand on your leg tightened slightly in response.

“Very diplomatic,” Robert teased, swirling his goblet of wine around before taking another deep gulp. “But it won’t be that easy to evade our questions by being coy.”

“Agreed,” Ned added with a smirk that was quite uncharacteristic for him but suitably devilish for the situation at hand.

“Alright,” you said, sighing heavily for dramatic effect once again, “I’m drawn to both of you.” You paused for effect and looked at both men. “To Robert’s infectious laughter and bold spirit.” You turned to look at Robert whose grin widened at your praise while he nodded approvingly.

“And,” you continued, “to Ned’s gentle strength and handsomeness.” You then directed your gaze at Ned who seemed slightly taken aback by your confession, and blushed deeply. “That was… not so bad,” you mumbled with a small grin, “ and I choose you, Robert, next. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” Robert replied almost instantly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You smirked mischievously as a dare popped into your mind. It was nothing outrageous but something that would surely entertain you.

“I dare you, Lord Baratheon, to sing us a song. A love ballad preferably."

Robert’s eyes widened at your words before he groaned loudly, much to Ned's amusement. "By the gods, woman! You truly are a sadist!" He complained, but there was a twinkle in his eye that was hard to miss.

"Those were the rules of the game," you retorted cheekily and gestured for him to proceed.

With another dramatic sigh, Robert started humming an old Westerosi ballad about a knight and his fair lady. His voice was surprisingly melodious for someone so gruff and brawny. The smile on your lips widened as he really got into it, gesticulating wildly and not missing out on even one of flourishes.

When he finished, he bowed low in front of you with a grand flourish causing both you and Ned to break into uproarious laughter. Your sides hurt as you tried to stop laughing while Robert feigned hurt.

“Your turn, Stark,” Robert said after everyone had finally managed to calm down from all the laughing. “Truth or Dare?”

Ned thought for a moment before replying, “Truth.”

Robert rubbed his hands together as if relishing what he was about to ask next. “So Ned… Is it true that you have ripped this fair maiden’s dress on purpose?”

Ned turned scarlet at the audacious question and apologetically pressed a kiss on your hand. “I… Fuck, Robert, that was mean! Y-yes, I did. I only wanted to rip it a bit, but my dagger must’ve slipped and I also nicked your shift and… I only wanted to be a gallant knight to maybe steal a chaste kiss, but now I’m here, with your clothes falling off of you…”

"Quite the confession, Ned," Robert boomed, laughing heartily at his friend's discomfort. "The shy wolf with lecherous intentions. Who would have thought?"

You smirked, looking at Ned whose blush went even deeper. "It was quite the sight to see you flustered, Ned," you confessed, keeping your tone light-hearted. "I must admit, it only added to your charm."

Despite the blush on his face, a pleased smile spread on Ned's lips at your comment.

"And since I've been putting you gentlemen to test so far," you continued, amusement coloring your voice and a wicked glint in your eyes. "I believe it is high time I got a taste of my own medicine."

Both Robert and Ned exchanged glances before Robert turned back to you with a deep grin. "Dare it shall be then," he declared, raising his goblet in a toast.

Your heart skipped a beat as you awaited their command – the thrill of the game alive and pulsating in your veins.

And then Ned spoke up, his voice slow and deliberate – enough to send chills down your spine. “We dare you to dance for us.”

The request caught you off guard - dancing did not seem like much of a challenge until you remembered that there was no music playing in the tent - no lute or harp melody to guide your movements, not to mention that you only had Robert’s thin fur coat to cover your body.

"How will I dance without music?" You asked, attempting to divert this dare to something easier. “My dress will fall of completely…”

Robert shrugged nonchalantly and pointed towards himself saying, "Oh, that won’t bother us. But if you won’t dance, I guess you’l have to kiss us, then…”

Your cheeks flushed with excitement as you watched the two of them exchange a sly look. "Oh, so that's how we're playing this game?" you whispered with a mischievous grin. You sprang up and blew out the candles, enveloping the tent in playful darkness.

With a twirl, you shed your garments and snuck over to Ned for a slow, seductive kiss before moving on to Robert for a quick, teasing one. Giggling, you hopped onto Robert's bed. “If you want more, I guess you will have to catch me…,” you whispered and giggled as they cursed and something clattered against the ground.

The next moments were filled with soft laughter and hushed whispers as the two men seemed to plot your capture. You held your breath, wondering which one of them would make the first move. Then suddenly, the bed dipped gently at the corner signaling that someone had made their move. Grinning wildly, you leapt off the bed just in time to avoid Ned's outstretched hand.

"Where are you?!" Robert's gruff voice echoed in the dark followed by a thump and his subsequent curse. It was clear that he'd walked into something and you stifled a chortle, pressing your hand to your mouth.

"Oh, come out! Come out! Wherever you are," Ned called out playfully after a moment of silence. You stayed hidden behind some draped fabrics which seemed like an enclosed pavilion within the tent. Their cautious steps were heard shuffling about in the dimness as they tried to locate you.

Suddenly, a hand brushed against your arm, and before you could react or run, you were being pulled into a warm embrace and gently lifted back onto the bed. You yelped in surprise and then giggled when you recognized Robert’s husky chuckle near your ear. “Got you,” he murmured triumphantly.

"Oh, well done," Ned's voice came from somewhere close by, accompanied by soft clapping. The smile on your face widened when he added with evident amusement, "Now I guess it's best we see how our lovely maiden plans on escaping this situation."

Robert laughed heartily at that but didn’t release his hold on you while you squirmed lightly in his arms trying to appear as if you were attempting an escape, only stopping once Ned’s hand softly gripped the top of your thigh, above the point where your stockings ended and dangerously close to your growing heat. “I… oh!”, you gasped and blushed.

Ned chuckled, a low rumble that made you shudder. "Oh, I like this game," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You could hear the grin in his voice. You felt his hand squeeze your thigh before sliding away in an achingly slow journey.

"Now, now Ned," Robert's voice came into play. "Let's not be overly greedy, shall we?" His arms tightened around you again as if to doubly emphasize the fact that he was the one currently in control.

You squirmed and twisted around to look at him over your shoulder, giving him your best impression of an innocent doe-eyed gaze. "But if I can't move... how do I continue the game?"

Robert's laughter filled the tent once more. "That's the point, lass. We have you right where we want you."

A thrill ran down your spine at their words, the playful darkness of the tent somehow making their intentions all the more exciting.

Suddenly, Robert let out a groan followed by a muffled curse. Ned had managed to prod him in the ribs with his knee and taken advantage of Robert’s momentary distraction to pull you from Robert’s arms into his own lap. This new position offered no respite; Ned's form was just as hard and unyielding as Robert's had been, yet his hands started wandering once more, shyly cupping your breasts and rubbing your nipples with this thumbs.

"You're sneaky, Stark," Robert protested but there was no real heat behind his words. The tent quieted down as Robert moved from the bed - something clattered against the floor, probably his doublet - and you tried to calm your breathing, so as not to show them how much this… game excited you.

"I learn from the best," Ned replied, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"You haven't seen my best yet," Robert retorted with a sly grin and let his hand wander over your body, stopping short of your mound making you inhale sharply.

“Your… best?”, you breathed and stifled a moan as Ned continued gently playing with your breasts, dipping down to kiss you every now and then.

"Yes, my best," Robert grinned. His voice was huskier than you'd ever heard it before and it sent shivers down your spine. The silence in the tent was only broken by the occasional mutterings of the two men and your small gasps as they touched you in places no man had ever dared to before.

Ned's mouth began tracing a path down your neck, nipping lightly on your collarbone before he moved lower. You whimpered at the feel of his mouth on your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, suckling gently. You clung tighter to him as you felt yourself being pushed back against Robert's equally demanding body.

Meanwhile, Robert’s large hand traveled up and down your thigh, slowly creeping closer to the apex of your legs. His touch was driving you insane, and you could only imagine what would happen when his hand finally reached its destination. "It really is an interesting game," he murmured into your ear, his hot breath washing over you.

"Ned...Robert..." you gasped out their names like a prayer, squirming against them, pleasure building within you like a flame ready to consume everything in its path. The world spun around you, everything focusing down to where their hands and mouths were on your body.

Ned pulled away from your breast with a wicked grin, leaving it wet and your nipple hard. He leaned over to whisper something into Robert's ear while his fingers continued their torturous dance over your body. Robert laughed heartily at whatever Ned said before leaning in to steal a rough kiss from Ned's lips.

Your eyes widened at the sight in the darkness but immediately closed your eyes as you felt Robert’s fingers spreading your moist lips open and after an instant, the warmth of his tongue on your pearl. You did not even notice that Ned took off his clothes, nor did you notice that he softly retuned to his spot behind you, holding you softly in his strong arms. All you felt was the warmth of Robert’s tongue, the pleasure it gave you as it swirled over your sweet spot and at the way his large fingers trailed up and down your heat, not daring to enter you yet, only laying them teasingly against your entrance.

“I think I’m in the lead, Stark, she’s so wet already and I haven’t even been inside her,” he said as he demonstratively patted his hand against your slickness, making the tent echo with your small, suppressed moan.

"Is that so?" Ned's voice was low, his breath sending tremors down your spine as he nudged your ear with his nose. "Well then, let's see where this leads us." His hand slid down your body, joining Robert's between your thighs, their fingers brushing against each other and creating an electric sensation that tickled the pit of your belly.

Robert paused to let out a gruff laugh, but didn't move away from you. Instead, he pressed a hot kiss onto your inner thigh, his stubble scratching delicately against your sensitive skin. "Where are you headed with this, Stark?" His voice was muffled as he continued his ministrations on your throbbing nub.

Ned didn't answer at first. He shifted behind you, moving closer until his naked body was completely pressed against yours, turning you slightly onto your side. You could feel his arousal pressed against the small of your back causing a gasp from you. He chuckled darkly, his hands moving on their own accord to cup your breast and massage it in rhythm with Robert's flickering tongue.

The pleasure coursing through you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. Ned's strong hands expertly kneading at your breasts coupled with Robert's relentless assault on your wetness had you writhing and moaning in ecstasy between them.

"Ned... Robert…" Your plea came out more like a desperate whimper as Ned’s hands moved down towards your arsecheeks, spreading them, squeezing them, spanking them. Suddenly, the sensation of Robert’s mouth retreating caused a frustrated whine to escape from you.

"Patience, darling," Robert admonished gently as he leaned up from between your legs, pressing one final kiss on your warmth before moving up to your face, kissing you sweetly, his mouth tasting of your cunt, yet you could do naught but to kiss him feverishly, because Ned, in your moment of distraction managed to crawl between your opened thighs, and inserted his finger into your warmth, making you moan into Robert’s mouth.

“Let me… anything… oh…,” you muttered wantonly and let your hand explore Robert’s big body that loomed over you, before shyly closing your small hand around his hardness, your mind spinning as you noticed that you could easily hold his with your second hand as well. With a growing blush you moaned as Ned slowly inserted a second finger into your heat, slowly moving them, whilst pressing small, sweet kisses onto your rosebud.

"Ned...more," you whimpered, your hand tightening around Robert's length as the tension coiled tighter within you. The Baratheon lordling let out a low groan at your touch, his own hand nestling in your hair to keep you close.

"All in good time, love," Ned murmured against your heat, sucking your juices off of his fingers bore gently inserting them again, curling them inside you and sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body. His other hand left your thigh, travelling up to tangle in your hair as he guided your head towards Robert's ready arousal.

Gods, they both made you feel tiny as they roamed their hands over your shivering body. Helplessly you did as he motioned, opening your mouth and tasting Robert for the first time. He was rich and salty and filled your senses completely. You heard Robert's sharp inhale as you took him in deeper, his hand tightening in your hair as you choked on his length, your tongue swirling around him.

Meanwhile, Ned had taken advantage of your distraction to press his thick digit further into your warmth, matching Robert's moan with one of his own. "I believe I have taken the lead again," he chuckled lowly, continuing his torturous pace inside you. His voice was ragged, filled with desire and anticipation that mirrored yours. You could feel him shifting behind you once more, and when you felt the blunt pressure of his cock against your entrance, it took everything within you to keep from crying out loud.

"Ned..." It was a plea this time, a desperate cry for release that he answered with a gentle thrust inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, filling you completely as he stilled inside you to let you adjust to him.

Robert's grip on your hair loosened and he pulled away slightly to meet Ned’s gaze, though all you could do was to suck him deeper again, unable to keep yourself from moaning and screaming at Ned’s length in your womanhood. You’d been a maiden, of course, so the feeling was overwhelming - the way he stretched you out, the way he grunted at the way you tightened around him. After a few moments of respite, he slowly began to move inside you.

“Are… are you alright, my girl?”, he panted and looked up at Robert, who quickly pulled back from you so that you might answer Ned’s question, his cock glistening with your spit as it loomed over you.

“Yes, yes! I’m… ah… please more… feels’s’good…,” you mumbled, trying to give him an encouraging smile, even though it didn’t fully matter - your mind had been tunred into jelly. You hyperfocused on the delightful stretch of his cock, before gently stroking Robert’s again. “D’you… want me to continue?”

"Continue..." Robert echoed your words, his voice brimming with desire. His hands once again found their way to your hair, tugging gently as he guided you back onto him, a groan rippling from his chest as your lips encased him once more.

Ned started to move again, a low grumble of pleasure escaping him as he sank further into your warm depths. The sensation of them both filling you was intoxicating, the taste of Robert in your mouth and Ned inside you causing a fevered heat to pool in your belly.

With that affirmation, Ned's thrusts began to quicken, each one met with a gasp or moan from you. His hands were everywhere - roaming your body, making sure no inch of your skin was left untouched. He took great pleasure in watching as you writhed under his touch, the sight of you taking Robert into your mouth only adding fuel to his flaming desire.

Meanwhile, Robert's hand tightened in your hair as your tongue worked him over. He watched as Ned moved within you, his chest swelling at the sight before him. He had to stop himself from reaching out and touching where Ned disappeared inside you, the sight so erotic it drove him wild.

"Gods... You're amazing," Ned murmured against your ear, gently picking up your legs and pressing them up against your heaving chest. Every inch of him attuned to every move you made, every gurgle that escaped your lips as Robert began wantonly fucking your mouth.

"Yes," Robert agreed hoarsely, "Perfect."

Emboldened by their praises you continued with newfound zeal, matching Ned's movements inside you with the rhythm of your lips around Robert's length. The tension built within your body, tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks. You grunted, desperately hoping for some fresh air as you felt your release creeping up to you.

"Yes, darling." Robert withdrew his length from your mouth and pressed a sweet, comforting kiss on your forehead, his hands cradling your face as he whispered words of encouragement. "Let go, love," he murmured, stroking your flushed cheek with his thumb.

Ned continued his relentless thrusting, each movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. His fingers dug into your thighs as he quickened his pace, his grunts and moans in sync with yours. "Can you feel it, love?" he breathed into your ear. "Are you close?"

Nodding frantically, you whimpered in response. “Please, Ned, please, please, I…” Your body was shaking under the pressure of their combined attentions; the tension building to an unbearable point that begged for release. And when Robert whispered a final command into your ear —"Now."— it was all you needed.

Your orgasm tore through you like wildfire, a scream escaping from your lips that Robert quickly muted with his lips, as every muscle in your body tensed and shuddered. It was all-consuming, blinding even, and for a moment all you could feel was the pulsating pleasure coursing through your veins.

Ned groaned at the feeling of your warmth clenching around him and with a few final thrusts reached his own climax moments after yours. His body stilled above you as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping off him onto the sheets beneath.

Anxious not to leave Robert unsatisfied, you reached out for him once more and gave his throbbing member a firm stroke. But before you could do much else, Robert swatted your hand away gently and gently pushed Ned to the side, turning you over onto your trembling knees and pushing our face down into the hot furs, so that you were practically on the same height as your previous lover, who gave you quick, sweet kisses.

“Be a good girl for me,” Robert muttered and spat down onto your throbbing heat, making you moan wantonly in response. You had thought that many things could happen in this tent - this was certainly not one of them. Your thoughts were quickly pushed aside as Robert, who had a thicker cock than Ned, slowly pushed himself into you, spreading your arse wide open with his hands, as if to amire the way your cunt was taking him.

Robert's entry was slow but relentless, easing into your tight heat bit by bit, his large hands spreading you even wider for him. You cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he filled you in an entirely new way. "Gods… So tight… So hot…" Robert growled lowly, his eyes closing in bliss at the feel of you around him. His pace was slow and measured, each thrust carefully calculated not to bring you discomfort, but to bring you maximum pleasure.

Your body convulsed as you tried to adjust to his size, your walls clenching around Robert involuntarily with each soft moan that escaped your lips. Ned’s comforting hand on your back steadied you, his gentle strokes soothing your trembling body as he watched Robert take you from behind.

"Relax," Ned whispered in your ear. "You're doing so well." His words were a balm on your heated skin, bringing comfort and reassurance amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

Robert took his time with you, savoring every tight clench of your walls around him. He groaned in pleasure as he felt every ripple of your muscles contract against his thick length. His fingers dug into the plush flesh of your ass, pulling you back onto him with every thrust.

As Robert continued his tantalizing assault on your senses, Ned moved to kneel in front of you. His soft gaze met yours, a silent question hanging in the air between you two. When you nodded slightly in acceptance, he smiled softly before leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

Their attention was too much - it felt like blissful agony as Robert impaled you on his length while Ned, sweet Ned, reminded you to breathe, kissed you, reassured you that you were doing perfectly well.

With each slow, deliberate thrust from Robert, Ned's kisses became more fervent, his hands sliding up to cup your face as they explored each other's mouths. His tongue traced your lower lip before delving into the warm recesses of your mouth, matching the rhythm of Robert's strokes. The intense stimulation from both ends had your head spinning - it was almost too much.

Then Robert's pace began to pick up, his fingers digging deeper into the sides of your hips. The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure as he hit a spot inside you that made your eyes roll back and a strangled gasp to escape from your throat. "That's it," he grunted, trying to hit that spot with each thrust. “Our pretty little girl, overflowing with our seed…”

Ned pulled away from the kiss to watch you, his gaze filled with adoration. The sight of your pleasure-painted face was enough to have him hardening again, but he held himself back, focusing on your needs instead. He stroked your hair gently, whispering words of praise as he watched you unravel from Robert's ministrations.

Soon enough, you could feel another climax approaching, and this time, it promised to be even more intense than the last. Your breath hitched in anticipation and your body tensed, signaling Robert that you were close. "I got you," he breathed against the back of your neck, quickening his pace. With a few final thrusts from Robert and a rough kiss from Ned, waves of pleasure washed over you once again - stronger this time. Your body tightened around Robert who groaned out his own release moments after yours.

There was a moment of silence as all three of you laid on the bed, panting as though you had just run for leagues. You shivered lightly and twitched, your mind too hazy to comprehend anything.

“Shh, it’s fine… we’ll take care of you,” Ned whispered and stroked your hair lovingly, motioning for Robert come closer and to hug you. “You did so, so well.”

"Did we go too far?" Robert asked, his voice hoarse and filled with concern. He positioned himself on your other side and pulled you in close, wrapping a strong arm around your waist. “We didn’t mean to fill you up…”

"No," you mustered a weak smile as your response, shaking your head as you sought refuge in the warmth and comfort of their bodies. "I... I enjoyed it."

A hint of relief passed over their faces and they both leaned in to press soft kisses to your forehead. "You were amazing," Ned whispered, his voice filled with so much awe and admiration that it made your heart flutter.

"You're ours now," Robert stated firmly but gently, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. His blue eyes probed yours for any signs of fear or hesitance but found nothing but acceptance.

The moment was silent as you all listened to each others' laboring breaths, the air heavy with pleasure and contentment. You were still trembling slightly from the orgasmic high, and the feeling of their naked bodies against yours only heightened your post-coital haze.

Sleep came easy for Ned first, the exhaustion of the night's activities catching up with him. His strong arm wrapped protectively around you as he snuggled into the pillow beside you.

Robert kissed the crown of your head lightly before whispering a sweet "Goodnight," in your ear, his voice hoarse from all the moaning earlier. His hold on you tightened just a bit more before he too succumbed to sleep.

In the quiet refuge of their arms, under the warm blanket of their affections, the three of you drifted off into a peaceful slumber — the game, or its victor, completely forgotten.

[sasagehoes]

THE NECROMANCER

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ;𝐂𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐏𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𓅨˚₊‧⁺⋆♱;; Your days in Castle Ward are far from peaceful ever since that eventful night. And now with the announcement that the King's arrival is near, who could sleep well? So you ask yourself, will the gods be satisfied with all the bloodshed that shall take place outside of these walls?

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CW; This series contains a LOT of sensitive topics. Just like the show, there will be individual warnings for each chapter, I'm not responsible for what you read.

graphic depictions of gore/ caracasses/ dead animals/ death/ death/ and more death/ violence towards humans and animals

2.6k words

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After everything subsided and countless visits from the maester you were told you could finally leave the chambers, your mind was so confused at everything, the nightmares, the horrible stench that everything had, the subtle ire that consumed you at the looks men started giving you around the time of your 12th name day. 

Arya occupied most of your time with the sneaking about to spar, ending with more than a couple of bruises, mud stains, and scoldings from both the septa and Lady Stark.  

After the whole kiss ordeal Bran had avoided you like the plague, not out of ill intentions, that you knew, simply out of embarrassment. You found it hilarious, shouldn’t you be the one embarrassed? He kissed you not the other way around. 

You made it your mission that week to annoy him the most, see how much it would take for him to break the silence. 

At dinner one day you sat next to him and smiled. His body visibly stiffened, and his face went red, you tried your hardest to not let a cackle slip, but to no avail, as soon as Robb mentioned something about his reaction, you broke in laughter, the rest of the table followed suit. His eyes were fixed at the table in shame. 

“Are you alright my dear?” you asked with a knowing smile. 

“W-what?  Yeah, I’m good” he said with a slight stutter. 

The interaction earns a few other giggles from the youngest Stark. 

Once dinner culminated Bran was the first to bolt out the mess hall, you followed suit 

“You’ve been avoiding me like Greyscale Brandon” you say  

“I have not,” you cached up to him and started walking by his side 

“Yes you have, can't we just be normal friends? I'm not asking you to love me right away, hell I know I do not” you laughed and continued; “just, don’t be a stranger” 

His steps met a stop and he replied, looking at the floor “Fine, don’t keep teasing me about it, and…sorry about the other day and the days before that’ 

You knew what he meant, the constant cold shoulder, and the peck on the cheek the day you woke from your nightmare fueled slumber. 

Now it was your turn to go red “I didn’t mind...next time just ask, good night my lord” you waved and left, quite in a hurry to avoid any other questions from the boy. 

The next morning the avoidance was gone, and you exchanged a couple of words in between duties, the hesitance was there but it was a step forward. Over the months that followed the shy conversations turned into full on banter.  

Once he had tried convincing you of climbing a small wall on the castle which led to both of you on the floor laughing, gathering yourself quickly to avoid a scolding from his mother. 

One of the climbing escapades had worked out fairly well apart from the subtle scrapes on your knees and hands from constant slips, both of you now on the top of a wall hidden away, looking at the falling sun. 

“Did you have any dreams before you were told you had to marry me?” he asked you abruptly, even he caught himself by surprise “You don’t have to answer that, it's none of my business” he retaliated. “It's all right, I do not mind... I can’t really say if I longed to do something, but I know I’ve always wanted to serve my people no matter what...although now my views have shifted” you say calmly, the sadness in your voice palpable 

 “What about yours, did you have any dreams before the news?” you asked, not letting him ask any questions about your newfound hatred against your people back home. 

“I wanted to be a Kings guard” he said slowly, your eyes went wide for a second. 

“Do you resent me for depriving you of your dream?” you ask. His head turned to look at you, eyes wide “No! of course not, neither of us had a say in this arrangement, even if my parents said I could decide whether i would marry you or not, i knew they were only humoring me” he said holding your arms, you winced at the cuts getting irritated by his sudden touch. 

He took them away quickly “Sorry, we should go down before the sun goes down, the others might get the wrong idea” he said looking at the floor below the both of you. 

“Alright lead the way” you say not wanting to imagine how difficult the journey to descend was going to be. He seemed to notice and chuckled “I'll go first and wait down there, if you fall I'll catch you my lady.” 

“You better not or ill poison your food at dinner” you throw him a small scowl at his teasing. 

At the end no one fell, and no one was poisoned yet as expected your little escapade resulted in a brief scolding about how dangerous that climb was. 

“You, Brandon Stark may be experienced climbing, yet she isn’t, what if she falls? '' Lady Catelyn asked exasperated, “I would catch her mother, I helped her up and down, she’s fine” he replied. “Truly my lady I’m fine, just a couple of scrapes, nothing serious, I promise it won't happen again” 

It did happen again. 

The day of your 13th name day was just around the corner, and although the Starks prepared a small feast to commemorate the three years you had spent with them, you couldn’t get a pestering feeling that crept up in your head. Every night for the last week, your dreams were filled with the corpses of people you have never met before, dead animals, but one was a recurrent resident in the abode of your mind. A raven, as black as the night, sometimes it would stay still and quiet, while sometimes it opted to be more aggravating, screaming in your ear, flying in your line of sight to stop you from gazing at something you should not. 

Every night you would wake up in a cold sweat, it was slowly eating you alive and it was eminent in your eyes. The bastard, Jon Snow was the first to notice, although he and you did not really interact, you considered him someone that would bring you safety, having saved you from that horrible man, moons ago. You often sat next to him in silence, as he went about his duties, he never questioned it really, the silence was welcomed and so were you.  

“You’ve seen better days my lady” he said as he polished his sword, not looking at you. “Have you seen death my lord? Does it haunt you in your dreams?” you ask now looking directly at him 

To say he was surprised was an understatement, he's never been in a war nor a brutal battle, but he had seen his father execute men who take the black and proceed to break their oath. 

“It used to but then I got- accustomed to it as I got older” he said looking back at you now, “Does death plague your dreams?” he asked with a frown 

You thought for a second for an answer, saying yes would entail him asking about said dreams which would- 

“No, just wanted to ask” your response was rather quick, “I'm sorry to bother you, do carry on” with that you left the room, leaving the snow's son quite disturbed to say the least 

You sprinted back to the courtyard, the stench of blood emanating from every crevice of the garden, your insides contorted as a way to seek relief and as a final effort to do just that, the food you had eaten earlier that morning ended up on the ground. Your breath was heavy and your hands were supporting your body from touching the floor as you cursed out to the old gods and the new. You felt a piercing gaze near where you were, unmoving. You looked up and saw a raven staring right back at you, for a moment you thought you were having one of those hellish nightmares again since its eyes were as white as the snow that was said to decorate the land beyond the wall. You tried moving your hand its way to make it go away but to no avail, “What is it that you want from me you bastard” you scoffed at the feathered animal. As soon as those words left your mouth you felt your eyes go to the back of your skull, and just as it happened many nights ago. Everything went black.

You stood in front of an out of commission tower in Castle Ward, one that you failed to climb with Brandon during one of your escapades.This time it felt much taller than it did that day. In the blink of an eye, a bird fell from the upper window, falling right at your feet, making you gasp. After that, another came crashing down, and then another, and another, until the ground was covered in bird carcasses and you could only stare at it in disbelief and terror. As the last one fell, a soft scream could be heard. It sounded vaguely like Lady Catelyn’s voice, as you understood what the screaming voice said, your blood froze, Brandon it called. Brandon it wailed.

You jolted awake in the same soft grass you had fallen, the raven nowhere to be seen and the smell of rotting flesh nowhere to be perceived. You stood and went running to go find the boy, when you spotted him holding his bow, pointing the arrow at the target, you heart felt at ease once more. 

After that scare, the day went on rather normal, though your mind kept going to the Lady’s screams, the ravens and all the blood, you couldn't bear to relive that again. As the night fell, everyone returned to their chambers. You felt restless, you didn't want to succumb to sleep because the nightmares would haunt you, but at the same time the less you slept, the more irritable you became. Once you decided to go to bed at last, your mind was filled with blissful images of your family before all the atrocities that went down. Leiana chasing Ophelia down on the corridors as Amadeus taught your younger self how to read

‘All ladies should be well informed of the worldly matters’ he used to say

The images soon changed settings to the gorgeous gardens that reside in Castle Ravenna, the tulips that would only bloom in the warmer months, the lilies that often decorated Ophelia’s hair as soon as they bloomed, and the red roses that-

There were no red roses in Castle Ravenna.

Mother hated them.

You gasped as you woke up in front of that dreadful tower back in Winterfell, the ravens still surrounding you, yet instead of lifeless they were now croaking at you, all at once. If the nightmares wouldn't make you mad, this certainly would. You ran as fast as you could to the main entrance of Castle Ward yet the doors would not budge. From behind you, you could hear countless horses trotting your way, as the horses came closer and showed no sign of stopping only then did the doors open. You hurried back inside of the castle yet no one seemed to acknowledge your presence, everyone focused on the..King.

The King hopped off his high horse and went closer to the Stark family. Starting out with Neddard Stark, as soon as he hugged him, a horrible image flashed in your vision. Heads mounted on spikes, flies grouped around them, feasting on the rotting flesh, and among them all one stood from the others.

It couldn't be. 

As if to not let you know more, the vision ended, and you were once more back in front of the family being greeted by the King. Next was Robb, at the shake of their hands another vision struck you. A man with the head of Wolf was paraded as a laughing stock in a gathering. The blood from the wolf intertwined with that of the man’s, linking them as one. Your vision panned to the view of a horrified Arya, a few years older than what she was now, age not the one weighing down her features, but the things she had seen and gone through. As soon as your ears heard the words “King in the North” being exclaimed  by one of the perpetrators, you were pulled out of the nightmare. You opened your mouth to scream as the king neared Lady Stark, but the chords down your throat were not being strung, as if they were cut completely. Yet that didn't stop tears from welling in your eyes as you fell to your knees, another vision engulfing your tired mind.

You found yourself in a quiet hall as bodies littered the floors, a heaving Catlyn could barely muster any words as she held a young girl by the hair, dagger in hand, pointed at her neck. As if thunder had struck, the lady’s neck was slashed such as quick, all while her hostage held the same fate.

You couldn't handle anymore, this was your new found family..how could you stand this.

Once back at the entrance, you walked with all your might to try and stop the king from touching another family member. Yet a man with eyes as pale as snow, whom you had never seen before stood right in front of you.

“The God’s make things happen for a reason, all for which you will see with time, you were never supposed to see this. Sleep now child.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, a murder of ravens engulfed him and everything around you.

You awoke from the living hell you were just pulled from and sat up, slowly, you noticed that instead of the comfort of your chambers, you laid in the cold ground outside. In the very center of Castle Ward. Afraid this was another one of your mind’s cruel tricks, you grabbed the sharpest stone the floor could provide and gashed your hand. You let out a wince as the blood now trickled down the creases of your palm. Your body and soul were too tired to let out sobs, so you opted to stare at the abysmal darkness that the outside provided. Soon enough your eyes caught the one of a dead bird not too far away. Like a predator salivating after its next prey, the blood on your palm oozed quicker, and your mind only had one thing resounding in it, take it.

And take you did, like a rabid animal you ran to take it, your blood mixing with the birds still one, interlinking as one.

In the blink of an eye it felt like how it felt back when you were Amelia, yet this time it was more intimate, more.. Personal, it was your body getting traded for that of a carcass. Your soul transfering itself into the empty vessel of a bird. Your eyes went to the back of your head, the pearly whiteness quickly turning stygian. The lifeless bird no longer so, as your limp body fell on the ground with a thud, the bird took flight, standing atop of the tree near your sleeping figure.

In some way or another you must have regained your body’s soul back to its rightful place, since you were awoken by Sansa as you laid comfortably in your chamber bed.

“Wake up sister! I come bringing great news, the King is to come to Winterfell, and I shall marry his son Joffrey!”

The Gods have abandoned us long ago, we just pretend we are still in their presence.

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ Thank you so much for getting this far, can't wait to continue this series!! If you'd like to be added to the taglist,let me know ♥︎

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DO NOT;; RE-UPLOAD, TRANSLATE NOR COPY MY WORKS!!

This belongs to;;

-SASAGEHOES

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

5 - A War of Tragic Beginning

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

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, mentions of executions, discussions of war, blood and violence, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, slight dom/dub dynamics, casualties of war, major character death, unexplained mystical phenomena, slight canon divergence

Notes: I have no excuse for the length alright, I apologize. Anyways, I told you this was a slow burn, so strap in because we are in for the long haul now. Series Masterlist Here.

Little news had come out of Kings Landing since Robb had received your raven about his father being injured in the streets by the Kingslayer. Maester Luwin had tried to maintain an air of rational saying that things are likely too busy but it was an unspoken look between him and Robb that talked of a worry about what as to come. Once word from you stopped coming, Robb stopped sending, the likelihood of anothers eyes intercepting any word between you, too much of a paranoia.

He had kept busy, falling into his fathers role as Lord of Winterfell more naturally then he had once feared. You had assured him the morning you left that you had every confidence in him, and a boyish part of him hoped that you’d be proud for seeing the right future in him. Bran was still getting used to his older brothers new demeanour having separate Robb from him as a brother and his more common demeanour now called Lord Robb. If he remembered correctly, he didn’t have too different of a point of view when he was a child.

Still very young, and his only other sibling, only friend even being Jon, Robb had many memories of having the free time to watch his father assume a role he was never meant to have. Winterfell was meant to go to his Uncle Brandon, and once the war ended, his father had to quickly learn to take this role over. Days his father was in court, he was much more stern whereas in the quiet of the night was when he finally could see his father laugh and joke.

Robbs nights however, weren’t filled with the same peace. A plot by the Lannisters to murder his brother that none seemed to know why, his father, sisters, and wife away in Kings Landing where the only word was him being attacked by the same Lannisters, and his own brother, his closest companion for his entire life now up at the Wall swearing his entire life to a whole new family.

It was Jons choice, but somehow it made it harder to accept.

Somewhere along the lines, Robb couldn’t help but realize that he should’ve done more as his brother. He should’ve made Jon’s life less of a series of obstacles to jump over, should have stepped in more between him and his mother’s anger. So much of Robbs life had changed so drastically so quickly.

His father named hand of the king, leaving for the captiol with both of his sisters, his brother falling from a tower in a plot to murder him, his brother leaving for the wall, and now to add being tossed into a sudden marriage with one of his oldest friends and only having one night together before she too was dragged to the capitol. Even just a year ago, Robb would’ve had Jon there to talk it out with.

They’d ride to some challenging terrain in the woods and spend the afternoon switching between jesting at the other for complaining and reassuring the other. They were both good at that, or at least Jon was. Robb once more, regretting not being more of that reassuring support to his brother when it would have mattered the most. But at least Robb could’ve gone to Jon to stop the noise in his head screaming about you.

Jon knew you as long as Robb had, and he had a better friendship with you as well. He was close with you for so many years and that was nothing to scoff at but there was a quiet understanding you and his brother had that he was thankful for. Whatever Robb couldn’t see, you always did, and vise versa. Robb had only started to work with you in the training yard, because Jon had started teaching you first. Were the one brother he could talk to still here, maybe he wouldn’t feel so strange about his feelings over you.

Robb wasn’t blind, he knew all too well you were pretty. By the time you had come to Winterfell when you were fourteen and had matured considerably since the last time he saw you, Theon who had not met you by that point made an off handed comment about being the one to teach you what a man looked like. All three of them were around sixteen at the time and he could still see the glaring and aggressive looks both he and Jon gave him instantly. But he wasn’t wrong, you were very pretty.

There had always been a spark of something there, but something in Robb told him to hold off on acting on any of it. Your friendship regardless was fond, soft looks that always warmed him on the inside and eventually Robb simply had matured enough that if this was all there was then it would be alright. Then the letter came.

Something about the morning you came to his room, nervously trying to get out that you didn’t want their first kiss to be in front of the way too big crowd of the wedding set Robb alight. The fact that you did want to, the softness of your lips and skin under his touch and the sigh that Robb didn’t even think you realized you let out dragged him down.

It was duty to marry, but you were someone he cared about, and neither of you were shying away about what being married would entail. He had to guide you that night, and as he watched you nervously collect yourself in his room looking out the window he truly felt like some lecher. His eyes unable to stop looking at you in a way he never really did before and how easily you melted under some of the lightest of touches made him want to ruin you.

It scared him how easily you two fell into something neither thought you’d ever even have, how well you felt around him and how responsive to his touch you were. And now not seeing you for months, not even knowing if you were okay? It made Robb desperate to talk to someone about how on edge it made him feel. Like he was too protective, his thoughts about you too obsessive and he needed someone who understood him to work through his mess of a mind over you.

He couldn’t really talk to Theon. He trusted him like a brother, easy to forget he was a ward, a prisoner, when they both treated each other like he was just meant to be there. But Theon wasn’t the right one to talk to about you. His interest in girls was always just sexual and Robb couldn’t even remember a time he talked about someone in any kind of romantic way. Being so far apart so soon after marrying you was messing with his head.

But, that feeling only got worse. A raven came from Kings Landing, and as he stood there with Theon and Maester Luwin, that confusion turned to rage. Holding it in his hand he looked it over again. “Treason?” Looking up to Luwin he felt as confused as he was enraged. “Sansa wrote this?”

Luwin was doubtful but confident, “It is your sister’s hand, but the Queens words. You are summoned to Kings Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

His blood growing hot he couldn’t even bring himself to read the words another time, for case he tore it up on the spot. “Joffery puts my father, and my wife in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?”

Luwin spoke low, offering a reason that as Robb only imagined the right of you and his father tossed away in their dungeon, sunk to the lowest parts of the sea. “This is a royal command, my Lord. If you refuse to obey..”

His voice was confident now, the Lord Robb that Bran would call him. It felt drastic, but as every other scenario played in his head, none came to mind that sat alright with him. “I won’t refuse. His Grace summons me to Kings Landing, I’ll go to Kings Landing. But not alone.”

This was it, he says these words and he has chosen his, his families, and the Norths course of action but as he looked at Luwin, he didn’t see the look of someone who didn’t trust him. He saw the same support and loyalty that he’d seen towards his father many times over.

“Call the banners.” Asking to be sure, asking if he truly means all of them and he didn’t blink nor pause to respond. “They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not? Now we see what their words are worth.”

Luwin was proud, even if he didn’t say it. They’d dismiss him as a boy, but that was not the command of anything but a man and a leader.

It took some of the houses far sooner to get here, the North was vast but as they arrived it was with no doubt or offence. It would be a few days before they could expect all of the banners, should all of them prove their loyalty at least, and it left Robb tense.

Unable to relax, there was a constant clench in his jaw, a heavy set in his shoulders that hardened each passing hour. Grey Wind stuck dutifully by his side. He didn’t have the words to explain it, but there was a connection he had with his direwolf, something that he was sure if he brought up to Maester Luwin, would be dismissed as his imagination. But Grey Wind always knew what Robb was feeling it seemed and at times, Robb didn’t know why but it felt like he was controlling him as if he were the true wolf.

It was that sense which he put trust into that night. Grey Wind grew agitated and worked up, Robb letting him out into the main yard thinking he may just be in need of a good hunt as all of these men converged on Winterfell.

Robb was speaking with Maege Mormont when it happened, the howling of Grey Wind, a chattering just outside and the galloping of a horse. Drawing him out the doors, Robb had barley stepped onto the gravel below when his eyes deceived him.

You were feeling truly exhausted. Not having slept in days, and the second you had landed in White Harbour you heard of the banners being called and made one hard ride to get here. The no food and barley any water wasn’t didn’t make you any less shaky either. Climbing off the horse, you could only look at Robb as you struggled to catch your breathe. Looking at him, he was more of a leader then when you departed, and you were certainly not similarly better off.

He called your name, and it was hard to remember if you went to him, he you, or met both ways but all you could really recall was collapsing into his arms. Robb pulling you tight against him, one hand wrapped around your lower back and the other cupped the back of your head to hold you close to his neck. Your name once more murmuring quietly from his lips, being hummed into the side of your head as you tried pulling back. “No, no, no, relax. Hold onto me, okay?” That warm voice almost made you cry, soothing in a way you hadn’t heard or felt in months you only managed to wrap your arms around his neck before Robb swiftly scooped you up.

Turning his head away to the crowd you heard him command someone to fetch Maester Luwin, only to turn back to you quietly when you tried shaking your head. “He’s looking you over, and that’s final.” A command in his voice that was well suited on him.

A woman’s voice shouting in the background as Robb brought you inside to, “You heard him, get your asses moving,” He chuckled into you when your brows furrowed slightly.

Your eyes tried fluttering shut, so in need of sleep but Robb slightly adjusted his hold on you to be tighter and higher, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” You tried to speak, mind racing to get it all out at once but he shushed you with a gentle murmur of your name. “It’s alright, relax for me first. Let’s just make sure you’re okay before we do anything else.”

Sitting you gently onto his bed, you winced to sit up against the headboard as Robb took to the edge of the bed facing you. A hand running over the side of your face, his bright eyes narrowing with flashes of anger at the dirt and cuts still scattered about. Your hand gently reached up, grasping at his wrist and holding it there as you ran a thumb over his pulse. Still as strong as it was when you left. “I’m fi-”

“You’re not fine, you could barley stand for two seconds the second you got off your horse.” Opening your mouth to protest, Robb called your name firmly with his other hand gently at your waist. “You going to force me to make it an order?”

Smirking weakly, you felt some of your insides come alive too at the soft one he returned. “You ordering me around as what, Lord of Winterfell or my husband?” A playful scoff left his lips as he leaned in, sliding the hand on your cheek to gently hold the back of your neck. “I’ve only just gotten back, my Lord. A little patience wouldn’t hurt.”

You barley saw him roll his eyes before he pressed his lips to yours. Nothing firm or pushing, just an ever so gentle kiss as he ran his thumb over the back of your neck from his firm grip. Your hands weak, only willing to grasp at his waist before he already pulled back. Meeting your eyes, you wanted to pull him back at how much was overwhelming his.

Both of you looking to the door as Luwin came in, a genuine look of relief in his eyes as he closed the door behind him. One that was so much more real then any of the people around in Kings Landing.

Robb stood close by as he watched him check you over. Answering his questions, where certain marks came from and Robb’s jaw tightening with each explanation. “They are mostly innocent, should heal in a matter of days but you are okay. I can get someone to fetch some food and water for you,” he looked up to Robb “and you make sure she gets some sleep.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, “You’ll need all the energy you can to deal with the lot out there.” Laughing weekly, you leaned your head against the wall behind you, covering your face with a long sigh, collecting your thoughts.

“Are you up to telling us what happened?” Hands falling down to your lap you nodded, much more serious then just before. Glancing between Luwin and Robb you explained as best you could. About looking into Jon Arryn, the King’s death and what Renly and Petyr Baelish tried to propose and by the time you got to what truly occurred you felt the same rage you did in the moment.

“He played us for fools. Trusting him, the city watch, all of it.” Your eyes on the fire at the opposite end of the room glazing in the flames as you saw it all again. “He was right, she didn’t care what we were going to do, she knew. Cersei knew we wouldn’t stay quiet and she counted on it, we were always going to get thrown into those cells.”

Luwin relayed what the raven from Sansa had said, and you confirmed what Lord Varys had told you himself. “She’s still engaged to Joffery, and as long as she is she’ll be safe.” Pausing with a tilt of her head, “Relatively safe.”

You hadn’t mentioned Arya and neither did the letter, “What about Arya?”

Shaking your head, a weaker feeling passed over your eyes. “She’s still in the city, and if she is they’ll find her. They’ve got eyes everywhere, someone will see her and Cersei will likely keep her under close watch.”

Luwin had thought it over, “The Queen needs them alive, especially now. Three Starks to trade to prevent war.” Robb asking what about you, and the glance between you and Luwin said it all. Your eyes narrowing as you looked down to nothing as he was far more grim. “She’s not just your wife, she’s Stannis Baratheons daughter, his heir.”

Your voice was tight, yet fooled no one of the strain behind it. “If I didn’t leave when I did, I wasn’t coming out of there with my head.” Missing the restrained anger in Robb as you failed to look at either party in the room. “If somehow they beat my father, then the claim passes to me.” The words felt heavy and unnatural on your tongue as you said them. “Then they really can’t risk it.”

“You’d be dead either way.”

Turning to meet his eyes, you knew the rage behind his stilled expression all to well. A rage many Starks held and one that you had seen in his father as things continued to get worse. He wouldn’t lose it here though, with his fathers bannermen outside there was a real place to channel that rage.

Luwin left you both alone, going to ensure someone sent you up something easy to down as Robb came back to your side. Sitting close enough now that he could lean his forehead against yours, his hands on your cheek and waist while yours found enough strength to gently slide around his neck.

Despite how you both got here, there was no doubt that in this very moment, Robb felt like home and how much you truly had missed him. Maybe it was too strong or too soon, but now wasn’t the moment for you two to talk about that. Right now as he waited for someone to bring you something, you both sat in the others presence. Appreciating both the quiet and the feeling of the other in your arms, but like that day by the Weirwood as everyone else left to give you two a moment. Just quiet closeness to reassure the other, it had to be about you two now and your heart was much lighter at the sensation of how easy it was getting to allow it to be that way.

You’d remember your strange dream that night in the black cell later, the one of fierce cold and fire and the urgency in the rasping voice that you once knew but couldn’t place the longer you were away from the dream. But right now, it was the soothing, all consuming warmth of the one you vowed to be with.

Laughing to yourself, he pulled back with a slight grin. Running a hand over your hair, “What?”

Maybe it was how tired you were, but it just slipped out no matter what you had just tried to tell yourself not to do. “You make it too easy to fall in love with you, you know?” Robb’s eyebrows raised and his eyes lit up playfully.

“Do I, now? Do you want to elaborate on that at all?” Rolling your eyes you tried turning away but he gently pulled you back. “Oh no you, don’t. You’re in my bed, you’re not getting away that easily.” Leaning in he brushed his mouth against yours as he spoke, “How about my pretty little wife tells me all about what’s made her cold, hard, exterior fall for a man like me?”

You smirked as you felt your insides fluster, you were exhausted and for days on end now, in a constant state of panic and yet here Robb was making you feel like a little girl as he teased you. Part of you felt guilty at how Jon had simply known you’d find it easy to do so, but looking at Robb you knew not only did he deserve to be loved but you wanted it to be from you.

Something about these Starks apparently spoke to you. One real father away on the island of your home and yet the one you worried for was the wolf trapped away in Kings Landing. So much of the men in your family found no love or affection for the women in their life and yet both of Eddard Starks eldest sons found their own unique way to make you soft on the inside.

Pushing forward to kiss him yourself, Robb sighed into your mouth. His body relaxing a bit more like you both could only put on a ruse like this for so long. Pulling away just enough to press his lips to your cheek and down your jaw you smiled weakly, “You’re supposed to let me rest.”

Humming as he kissed your neck, it almost tickled from the brush of his facial hair. “I never said you had to do anything, my lady. Just relax, and take it like a good girl.” Oh he was unfair, he was not allowed to make you shiver like that now of all times.

Lightly pushing him back, he breathed a laugh at the knock at the door, sitting back to give you space as he called them in. To your surprise, the door was rather busy. One made sense, Grey Wind having found his way inside, no doubt also keeping to Robbs side more as people arrived. Some likely unsure of being around the increasingly growing dire wolf, and seeing him obey at his masters side would lighten that doubt.

The three others, one was a large man you recognized as Hodor carrying little Bran who upon seeing you widened his eyes and exclaimed your name. Nodding to the bed, Bran glanced at the large man with a polite, “Please, Hodor”.

Steps loud and large, Hodor reached the bed where Robb gently took his brother himself to sit up up close to you the way Robb was. Bran reaching forward the same time you did with a hug, you burying your face at the top of his head running a hand over his back, little exchanges of “I’m so glad to see you,” followed by an “I missed you too.”

Pulling back he sat in front of you as you looked up to the other woman. Not a face you recognized but putting down a tray of what looked like a simple broth and bread. She avoided your eyes but curiously glanced up as you moved your head to meet hers. Bran spoke up first, “This is Osha, she’s-”

“One of the free folk.” She paused before adding on a quick, “My lady.” That sounded unnatural from her mouth, which given who she was you supposed made sense. A quick glance to Robb he nodded calmly that he’d explain later but assuring enough to trust her. Gesturing towards Bran, her voice was deep and with a bit of a rasp that sounded strained, but appeared to just normal. “The little lord heard you’s was here and wanted to see you.”

Thanking her, she turned and slunk away as you watching curiously before looking back to Bran, running a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up.” He seemed to be in better spirits then what Robb had written to you about, no doubt time doing much of the help.

You three sat for a while, you slowly working away at the food while Bran sat, leaning slightly against Robb as you all pretended like the world outside the room wasn’t awaiting death and war. You noticed Rickon wasn’t there, but Luwin later would tell you that Robb calling the banners had almost sparked something in the six year old that made him spend more time on his own.

You felt for him, he was too young. Bran was as well, but at ten he was better equipped to handle and understand the situation. Growing late into the night, Hodor took Bran to bed as Robb insisted you sleep, noticing it was getting harder for you to keep your eyes open.

By tomorrow night almost everyone should be arriving or close to, and when they did? You and Robb were to be put to the real test. A lifetime of being raised by respected lords and leaders and the question of not only could you both be leaders, but did you have it in you to do it together.

Morning came early, far too early but you had woken up in a way you could barley remember by your return. The sun just lightly shining into the window from the more cloudy northern skies, a warm fur draped over you as you lay in a bed, one actually soft and forgivable on your muscles. But it was the warm body behind you that pulled you out of your sleep.

One large warm hand draped over your hip has caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, enough that it let him slip under and explore whatever he could find. Sometime during the night, he seemed to have pulled away the thick of your hair out of his way, giving him the space to rest his own head partially against the back of yours and enough for Robb to have pressed a few gentle kisses to your neck when he joined you in bed hours after you fell asleep.

The stone walls of his room were so much more relaxing then the brightness of any quarters you had in the captiol. Twisting slightly, you tested if you could move without disturbing him, but Robb just adjusted in his sleep to whatever you did. Turning to face him now, your hands rested gently in the small space between you.

You wondered if you looked so calm, so at peace in your own sleep. Somehow you doubted it, Robb was the better one to look at in this pair afterall. His brown curls once more tinted red in the morning light, begging you to gently run you fingers through them. Trying not to jostle, you sighed quietly at how soft they were and how easily you could play with his hair.

This..well this was something unique for you. For everything that had your heart before him, the only time you’ve ever had the real grace of waking up next to someone to intimately were dark, stormy nights on Dragonstone. Nights when Shireen had snuck into your room and whispered if you could let her sleep in your bed tonight.

But waking up like this was something you only had once before, with the same man. This time your exhaustion wasn’t from any memory you wanted to look back on, this time it was the scattered fears of fleeing a city wanting your head no doubt. Just as you tried to shake off such a thought, Robb’s brows furrowed, eyes still not open.

His voice matted in sleep, accent thick as anything and slurring together as it came out raw. “You trying to drive a man crazy this early in the morning?” Opening one eye with a playful annoyance you breathed out your own laugh in return. Robb flipped onto his back, arms pulling you along with him, your body cuddled into his side as your head rested closer to his chest.

Moving in closer, you felt your limbs buzzing at how new yet normal it felt with him. “I’m not allowed to admire my husband?” If the way his grip on you tightened, so freely calling him that stirred something within that man.

Keeping his eyes sharp on the ceiling with a smirk sliding onto his lips, Robb let one hand trail down your side. “Not when it riles him up so easily, and you’re supposed to be resting.” His hand said something different however. His palm rough on you as it made its way to your waist, stopping to greedily squeeze the soft skin he could grasp at. His smirk grew at the skip in your breathe.

Your own eyes narrowing playfully as you gently ran your own hand over his chest. Pushing the open sides of his shirt off him to give your fingers room to explore without anything in your way. “I’m supposed to be. Didn’t stop you from getting in the way of that last time.”

Mistake. That seemed to be a mistake. Robb shoved his hand down your hip and thigh, the force of the action shoving your pants down with him. Turning slightly to see you better, you weren’t nearly as teasing or daring as your words. It only made him bold.

Suddenly moving so that you were the one on your back and Robb learning over you on his side, his face looking down your legs as he yanked them the rest of the way off one leg. Pulling back to hover over your bottom half he grabbed the other side and yanked it off as well, tossing the article to the floor like it offended him.

He didn’t give you a chance to return the favour. Climbing up your body, Robb just as roughly pulled your shirt off as well leaving him mostly clothed and you laying back in his bed completely bare. His eyes raking over yours he found himself pausing, “How is it you look even better then I remember?”

Not giving you a chance to answer, Robb leaned down and captured your lips. His kiss much greedier then last night as he wrapped an arm around your back to pull you up into him. Your hands running over his chest and pushing the material off of him enough that you could grasp onto his shoulders.

One hand grasping your jaw to tilt your head to stay exactly where he wanted. Your knees parting without thought to let his hips slide into the space as he hovered over you more. Biting you bottom lip, you could feel the sting from his force pulling a gasp from you. Robb chuckled darkly into your mouth at the high pitched sound, using the perfect opportunity he wanted to slide his tongue into your mouth.

One hand raking up into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as he dragged his tongue along yours while his hand on your jaw gave you no choice but to let him taste you at his mercy. Dragging his fingers along your inner thigh as he dragged them slowly across your folds, you jolted and grasped onto him tighter when he dragged his nails over your clit.

Moving your neck to push your head into the pillows, he granted himself access to your neck with bites not letting you ease into it. Gasping his name, Robb smirked against your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin with much more ferocity then he had your only other night together.

His fingers slid back down your entrance and back up in the same tease as before with no pause, your thighs now sat the side of his own hips shaking slightly as you exhaled trying to keep composure. A feat not worth fighting as you let a whine slip as Robb pressed his lips firmly to a sensitive spot of your neck that he could feel soak his fingers more. Slipping them up to your ear your eyes fluttered as his warmth breathe ran over it, “Is it really this easy to make such a composed woman into such a needy thing for me?”

Another whine failed to swallow down your throat before he heard it. Pushing up onto his knees he pulled the rest of his shirt off. Reaching for his own pants he paused, hands right at the lace when he looked up at you with a dark need. Slowly Robb moved his hands to slide over your thighs and grasp at the skin.

Your chest heaving you couldn’t stop glancing down as your veins burned in a need. “Robb-”

“You want my cock?” It should’ve been shameful how you didn’t even think to nod, but his eyes only grew darker. “Be a good little wife and pull it out for me, then.” What should’ve been more shameful was how quickly you sat up to obey him. The way he looked at you like you were just a juicy piece of meat all for his ravishing hunger made your brain feel foggy.

Looking up at him, you undid the lace slowly pulling the material down. Just as you freed his cock, he grasped the back of your head, keeping your eyes on the thick length begging for attention. You couldn’t understand why you felt so willing to do anything he wanted or asked, but it was like having only him and his touch in your thoughts was a craving. Your hands gently grasped at his hips as he still knelt above you, his voice thick as anything. “It’s all yours. Just ask for it.”

“Please, Robb, my lord, I want you in my mouth.” Were he not spreading them you’d have clenched your thighs together at how tightly he fisted your hair as he almost hissed at you. Unable to risk speaking, he pushed your head forward.

You licked the tip of his cock, eyes closing at the salty taste of precum already leaking out. Moving to take the rest of his length into your hands, he tsked at you with a tightening in your hair. Fingertips flexing, you kept them on his hips as you took his tip into your mouth. Sucking gently as you licked what you could it, it didn’t miss you that even just this he stretched your mouth wide.

Ever so slowly, he allowed you to take him at your own pace, your own saliva building up and coating his cock the deeper you took him. Pushing past a certain point only a little over a third, your heart skipped a beat of what felt like panic. Robb however, seemed to sense it, loosening his grip and more massaging where he held you at your hair, his other hand reaching for your neck. His thumb gently running up and down your throat, as you felt your heart steady and your muscles relax.

“That’s a good girl. You can take all of me, I know you can.” How was he so calming yet making you even wetter all at the same time? It took some time, Robb muttering small praises before you were more then halfway down his length.

You pulled back a bit, as Robb guided your head himself now to pull your mouth up and down his cock, the sight of your closed eyes enjoying as you bobbed your head on him too much. His head falling back with a needy groan, something which might be your name thrown in there as he let you take this for now.

The more you sucked his cock, the more you forgot the world around you, the more worked up you felt on the inside and the more eager you became to take all of him. His length throbbed just as he yanked your mouth from him. A trail of saliva caught between his length and your gasping lips as you looked at him. Soaked from your mouth and shining from how much you spread his own precum along as well.

In an instant, Robb shifted. Pulling you up to his lips as he leaned down to yours. “Turn around for me,” He muttered between another kiss.

Without thought, you moved onto your hands and knees as Robb yanked your hips up more, forcing your face slightly towards the bed. One palm sliding over to roughly grasp at one of your ass cheeks he swore with a grumble under his breath. The other went to gather the wetness between your legs and ran across your clit with two fingers. You gasped as the spark of pleasure burned your core as he was firm and rough in his touch.

Pressing himself closer the tighter the rough circles he had on your clit, the more overwhelmed you felt from it. Head dropping you found it hard to breathe at the constant touch and Robb behind you left your ass to drag up your spine and grasped the back of your neck. Pushing you to stay face down into the sheets as he slid the two fingers deep inside you. Pumping quickly for only seconds before pulling them back out and up to your clit again as you begged with “Please,” and breathless “Robb- oh fuck,”

The hand on the back of your neck made you feel like an animal forcing to obey their pack leader, but perhaps that's exactly what this was. He was the wolf, and you were the mate on your hands and knees soaking his hand. Only Robb’s own need was strong.

Just as you moaned, the fire inside you burning to bright and snapping, your orgasm washing through you did Robb push inside. His cock just as soaked from your mouth and what his own touch gathered from you, he slid in deep way too fast.

You were too slick inside and he sunk deep enough in one thrust that you could’ve cried, but you may have cried more if he pulled out. Pausing, Robb leaned over you, his cock that way pressing firmer inside as he rested his forehead against the back of your own. “Fuck- I should punish you for keeping a cunt this good from me for so long.”

His hips started to move, and they were not gentle but maybe they shouldn’t have been. The pace was fast but the roughness was unrelenting to the point that you could only dig your hands into the sheets and brace yourself. He felt so thick inside of you and his thrusts so fast and rough that it took your words and your breath but not his own.

Biting at your ear he slurred out in great desire as he pounded into you, “My perfect girl, perfect little wife so fucking good for me, taking my cock,” You whined his name and his laugh almost sounded somewhat delirious. “Oh fuck, clenching around me like you want me to spill inside of you already, That what you want? Want me to fill you up already?”

You barley could nod from how pressed into the sheets you were, but you would’ve stayed that way for as long as he kept fucking you so intensely. “Anything, fuck anything Robb please,”

His strength was less rough but his pace was deliciously cruel. “Don’t say that, don’t you fucking say that if you don’t mean it.” His entire chest laid over your back as he buried his head into your neck rambling. “You have no idea the thoughts that run through my head about you, no fucking clue. You’d run back to your father if you knew the things I want to do to you.”

You cried out his name, reaching one hand blindly behind you to grab onto him and grasp his hair like your own anchor. “Please, I mean it, I mean it I promise. I’m yours, fuck-”

His words spitting into your skin as he pushed your orgasm right back to the edge, his cock having to pound into you with more force just to fuck you as deeply as you clenched so tight around him. “You’re mine, pretty girl?” You nodded but he needed more. “Say it. If you’re mine tell me, fuck tell me you’ll always be mine and I’ll fill this cunt right fucking now.”

Nothing else came to mind, only him. “Always. I’m yours, Robb. Now and always,”

The angle was awkward, but as Robb turned you to bring his lips to yours with force neither of you cared about how messy it was, how your teeth bashed against the other at one point as he kissed you and fucked you, he dragged your orgasm right around his cock.

Crying his name into his mouth, his deep groans turned to moans as he came as well. You could feel his seed, more thick then you remembered and somehow so warm as he filled you up. As long as you were still feeling shocks of pleasure from your orgasm, somehow you kept milking Robbs cock for all he could spill inside of you.

Both of you were ragged, out of breathe as he stayed inside you, laying atop you as neither tried to move him or yourself. It was a while you stayed just like that, his touch turning to gentle and soothing eventually. His voice turning much warmer and soothing again as he lulled you back to the present with soft nothing whispers.

You two only had one other night in this bed, and yet today was your last for you didn’t know how long once more. Only this time, as the men all gathered on Winterfell, you’d decide on final plans before departing and then in the dead of night?

It would be the true final judgment, did your lives truly prepare Robb and yourself for war. But at the very least, you both had the other for however this journey took you both. You weren’t going to sit idly as war fought alone for the father who made you feel as he was yours as well.

For all his faults, you at least understood what it was about Northerners that you could see would greatly put off your father. Some of these men you knew, others you didn’t but there was no question that they saw you as part of the dynamic. Maege Mormont took a liking to you right away, with a comment that would’ve flattened your father and sent him walking into the sea were it him.

“And those ingrates said you didn’t have enough of the North in you.” An arm wrapping around your shoulder, she pulled you into her tall, large frame fondly. “Looks like our lady here got plenty of Northerner in here last night.” Her other hand nudging at the marks you had quickly realized just wouldn’t get covered.

Robb had smirked quite proudly to himself when you realized he had done so on purpose.

The laughs though, didn’t put you off. From everything you’d heard about the woman next to you, your tongue slipped the words out easily as dry as ever. “I can hear the bears all growling without you to warm their nests from here, Mormont.”

Grasping your shoulder she shook you with a hearty laugh as did the others. Introducing you to her daughter, Dacey. Just as large and imposing but with the same grin on her face as she forewent the formalities with you as well.

Maege had been the one to give you the run on which lords were which and what houses you didn’t already recognize. Normally with a greeting and nudging you up yourself. Knowing the men you’d fight beside with was not out of the ordinary for you, you knew most of your own fathers bannerman by sight but the ease of their handshakes and talk put your mind at ease.

Northerners were different then you, for many reasons you got along with them but at the end of the day you to anyone else would be seen as the enemy. You grew up in the Crownlands, your Uncle was the King and your father one with his own claim down south. Your blood was that of the Andals, theirs of the First Men and yet the ones who didn’t trust you spoke to you and found little to care about in those differences.

And the others, well seeing how you already knew a number of these houses was answer too. It was hard to remember, that across the continent, another war was being prepared by the one man it seemed the Crown thought you’d stand by.

But you were told to stand by your family, and if Eddard Stark had not made you feel as if he was a father to you already? You lived half your life in the North, with these people, your heart belonging to more then one. And now you were Robb’s wife, and that made you a Stark to them more then those who still saw you as a Baratheon.

As the sky fell, more plans begun to form and a camp was in mind that would be the first act of taking them all out into the field. Draped in a fur and standing so confidently at Robb’s side you could feel the starting of looking at those who made such promise of council.

Having come over to greet Robb, you were then met with a pair of curious eyes that sat on the face of a very hard to read man. His voice was smooth and with a quiet kind of power his handshake to you felt unusually tight. His eyebrows raised however, when you squeezed back with your own strength as he now kept his eyes on you. “I must say, my lady, you are surprisingly exactly what I expected.”

Your face remained impassive as you struggled to find something behind the polite gaze. “And what would that be, Lord Bolton?”

Then there was a small half smile on one side of his mouth. “Your father has quite the reputation as a commander. I see much of that in you.” Nodding his head to Robb, “The lad is lucky to have you by his side.”

He and Robb shared an easier look before he pulled you a tad closer with a playful tug around your waist. “That I am. I’d be a fool if I just left her here after spending all those years knocking her into the dirt.” You narrowed your eyes playfully as his smirk grew wider. “Hey, I didn’t say I was still doing it.”

Bolton looked at you with a curious gaze. “I look forward to finding out how a southern girl fairs against her own kind with the North at her side.”

In the moments as he walked off you and Robb were silent before you spoke up. “You’re sure I should come with you?” His eyes narrowing as he turned to stand at your front. “You don’t think it’s a mistake having me at your side out there?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shaking your head, you tried turning away crossing your arms over your chest. “I know how to swing a sword, but maybe that doesn’t mean I have the right to be out there with you and these men.”

Robb grabbed your upper arms, not a trace of amusement in his eyes and a sternness in his voice as he looked at you. “How many wars have you fought in?”

“None.”

“How many have I fought in?” You tilted your head at him in indignation but he ignored it. “How many?” You repeated the last answer. “Exactly. You’ve been in as many battles as I have. You’ve trained like I have, and yet none of those men are telling either of us we should just stay here and let them do the fighting for us. They trust me to lead them as I’ve called upon them. And I trust you.”

You looked off at the nothing in the growing sunset for a bit, your voice smaller then you wished. “It’s paralyzing. Not knowing that it’s really going to be like.”

You didn’t see it but Robb smiled softly. Tilting your chin to look over at him with two fingers he leaned down to you. “At least we’ll be scared shitless together.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips before pulling away and tugging you into his side.

“Now come, we have a bunch of men in the main hall all clambering to yell about which one of them gets to do the most killing.” Huffing a laugh, you thought back to your father once more.

Certainly, a very different atmosphere then the kind of army he commanded indeed.

The more ale in their bellies the more rowdy they became over it. Robb had you sat by his side in the hall, Bran beside him on the other table end and Grey Wind having found a place between both of them on the floor. You felt for him, having to watch his brother leave off for war and leaving him in charge of Winterfell at only ten.

At the opposite end of you and Robb sat quite a large and imposing man. Greatjon Umber has a loose tongue and a louder yell as discussions continued. “For thirty years I’ve been making corpses out of men, boy. I’m the man you want leasing the vanguard.”

With one elbow on the table resting over your mouth your eyes narrowed slightly at the roundabout debate continuing on. Robb beside you was stern yet too growing agitated. “Galbart Glover will lead the van.”

Greatjon acted as if he’d just been served piss stew as he scrunched his face up in offence. “The bloody wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover.” Robb leaned forward, resting both hands together in front of him, his shoulders tense. “I will lead the Van, or I will take my men and march them home.”

You rose your head high, a narrowed look that caught Brans attention before Robb’s did. His eyes were unamused when he looked to Greatjon. Sitting back as his voice came out rough and yet unwavering in tone. “You are welcome to do so Lord Umber.” Standing slowly he braced his palms on the table as the ferocity didn't even blink in his eyes. “And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.”

“Oathbreaker?” Jumping from his seat, Robb stood straight as you and multiple others stood from yours in defence. The man pushing his luck a great deal too far had silence wash over the hall. “I’ll not sit here here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass-”

In an instant something that caught stuck with you played out. Not even half a second went by, did he reach for a blade by his side did Robb’s eyes narrow slightly and a growl let out. Grey Wind leaped up onto the table and in a few short steps lunged onto the man grasping at his hand with his teeth.

A snap echoed as Greatjon yelled out in pain on the ground, while Grey Wind calmly returned to Robb’s side. Calm as the wolf had been moments before the outrage as Robb scratched behind one of his ears staring still at the rising man holding his bleeding hand. “My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord. But doubtless. The Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me.”

Throwing his chair to the side, none moved but all with watching unsure eyes as you and Robb both stood next to each other with still gazes. “Your meat...” Something in the man seemed to dull back down as he looked around the room then back to the two of you. Realizing in his haste, he had pushed Robb too far and bore the punishment for the subordination. He rose his bleeding hand, and so did he lighten his tone. “Is bloody tough.”

A different air in a Northern Army indeed, as both men started to laugh as did the hall join in with ease as the tension melted down to nothing. Crime committed, justice given and both men could look at the other knowing their limits. For a quick second as the man looked at you, a smirk on his face as Robb placed a hand on your thigh, the touch burning as if his blood ran hot from such an encounter.

“No wonder you fit so well, lass. I’m not the only one whose got a wild bite or two in ‘em now am I?” Gesturing with the bloody hand to your neck, maybe you should feel ashamed for such marks be so glaringly obvious but the laughs that came weren’t at you. In fact a fair few seemed to be of an amused approval.

Robb beside you, tightened his grip on your thigh. Roughed up by a wolf indeed, you were. Only you’d ask for it, even beg for it at this point. The warmth of Robb beside you, the heat of the castle, and yet for some reason as you glanced at him? Feeling something grow inside of you at how easily he sat there in control of such a rowdy barrage of soldiers?

You felt a strange wave of cold, a cold that felt just like that image of fire and rasping tone that so far away from you now, you couldn’t quite recall what it was you had dreamt. But the cold returned as you sat there, at Robbs side preparing to leave for war.

It didn’t last, but it wasn’t the same cold that the army had all left into. Whatever cold and the distant rasp seemed to be trying to get to you with, was something that not even the furs around you shook off.

For only a second, you thought of ice.

Snow had begun to fall once you had reached Moat Caitlin. Only a light dusting that stayed not long after hitting the ground but it felt fitting. The North left for war and this brought the cold with them.

You had all left in the middle of the night, eyes could be on you at any time and under the cover of darkness was the safest bet. Robb took no chance at allowing the Lannisters to find out they were coming. You both had looked back at Winterfell one last time before turning to the other. If the other had nerves running through their heart, neither of you showed it.

A number of you stood in one of the tents, around a map as word reached you all of both forces against you. Tywin Lannister had his army planted close to the Trident and had the numbers, but with a lesser number still greater then the North had, Jaime Lannister was besieging Riverrun fast and pushing them back close to their tails.

“Lord Tywin has more commanders at his own camp-”

“Jaime’s moving faster through-”

Your eyes trained on the map, seeing the forces move in the stillness of the image as you looked to the numbers coming to mind. Either choice was risky, yet the lands that surrounded them spoke to different fights to come. The man around you speaking in your watchful quiet, “Our scouts confirm it’s even larger then the Kingslayer’s.”

“One army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times as large.”

You were quiet but the eyes you as you spoke both had a similar understanding. “We worry about their numbers to ours we’ll be here until they find us. We push on Tywin and there’s nothing around us except to chance us against theirs.”

Roose Bolton glanced to you curiously, “What are you suggesting?”

“If we break-” Multiple lords at once looking up, had you and Robb turn to a sight that you hadn’t expected. Lady Catelyn stood with Ser Rodrick almost with a look between shock and worry on her face to the scene she arrived at.

Her and Robb shared a moment where they hesitated to embrace in front of the men, almost making you smirk. Truly there was more love in that little moment then you think you’d ever seen publically from your father in a lifetime. Whatever image of leadership was at their thoughts was already far too much for Stannis Baratheon.

Lady Catelyn smiled at her son in front of his men at the minimum.

Looking at you, she found a far sight from the stripped down emotions you two shared in Brans room as he lay unconscious. Had you asked her, you reminded her far more of the detached reputation of Lord Stannis. You nodded once at her as she requested, “I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.”

In a quick moment, you found yourself feeling unwelcome. Not to any fault of hers, but you found yourself pulling from Robb. His quick touch to your waist pushed back gently as you jolted your head to the entrance of the tent. “You heard her.”

Beside you, Theon was shoved forward as well. Greatjon snatching him like wrangling a child, “You too, Greyjoy. Are you bloody deaf?”

The pair of you came beside the other as you gave the pair space to talk, you not looking back at what still didn’t feel like your place. Theon however, felt no qualms of bringing it up. “You’re as much her family as you are Robb’s you know.”

Face flat, you shrugged a shoulder. “She said alone. Can’t be alone if I’m there.” Looking forward you could see Grey Wind wandering along the edges of the camp, eyes trained on you without having any need of. You thought of that day in the hall before looking back to the men around you. Theon kept looking as you shook your head. “What?”

Stopping, you turned to look at him as he looked not like he did to a superior he served, but just as the boy you spent years with at Lord Stark’s side. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Brows narrowing in confusion he stepped forward with an eye roll. “Your father’s off on an island about to declare war on the Lannisters too and you’re not with him. Don’t try and tell me that doesn’t make you feel a bit fucked up.”

Oh, oh this is not what you wanted to talk about at all. It was hard to tell if you gave anything away in your expression as you looked to him. “Robb’s-”

“A husband that he chose for you.” Something inside you felt uncomfortable, not with Theon but with an implication you were clever enough to pick up on. “I’m just saying, you’re still that old bastards daughter and if he’s the one with the actual claim to the throne then that-”

“Don’t.” A harsh almost whispered hiss that took him back. You did not want to hear this, that was not the life you chose and not something you were meant for. “I’m not fighting for a fucking chair, Theon. I’m here for the Starks. That’s all.”

The air between you was thick at the sheer amount that neither of you were saying, and it wasn’t lost on you how he didn’t chose his path to serve this House as you did to marry into it. If he was almost one, as he was insinuating that you could be one right now?

Absolutely not. You wanted nothing to do with this, and neither should he. He tried saying your name and you shook your head. “We are not discussing this.”

You hated whatever the hell this had turned into. Something unspoken and volatile swimming between you both that if you wanted nothing to do with, you pleaded on the inside for him to drop it as well. It was not the same as what happened then. This was about Lord Stark, about the girls, about keeping together the family that had made you both like one of their own.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Grey Wind perched closer by with an eeiry aggressive look in his eye looking in Theons direction. Nervously looking between you both, he backed off with a genuine regret. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

“It was.” A mere second passed before you exhaled. Looking around the camp with a much easier time breathing before turning to stand more beside him as you felt the brush of Grey Wind come to sit close next to you, your hand reaching down to run over his head gently.

“Now that you’re married, is it wrong of me to say you look sexy in that armour?”

Whatever he tried to bring up, now gone into the wind once more. It wasn’t a life meant for either of you, and you knew it. So you both stood there and laughed. Nudging him with your arm he nudged back as you both glanced with a small smirk. “Still look better then you, Greyjoy.”

If something more was running through his head, it was impossible to say, but you laughed together and felt less like you both were here armed and armoured for bloodshed. But once more two people who had long bonded over irritating duties and even more distant fathers.

Running your hand over Grey Wind you spotted Maege Mormont over in the distance, what looked like yelling but could just be her natural manner when story telling. The rowdiness of the northern army stood out so much more. The only other army you’d truly seen ironically was what led you to Theon.

Your father had taken charge of taking down his uncle, Victarion Greyjoy and his Iron Fleet in the Straits of Fair Isle. A victory which allowed your uncle, Robert and Eddard Stark to gain access to the Iron Islands and end the rebellion. In exchange for Balon’s life he surrendered his ambitions to take his crown and gave his last living son up as a ward to the Starks.

Victarion as far as you knew continued to serve his brother and the third, Euron had been banished for crimes that you need not think about. That was a man who was a true Iron Islander. Does and takes what he wants, only paying what they called the Iron Price. If they want something they only get it by taking it. Standing next to Theon though?

Watching other Northerners? You two felt similar. Neither of you belonged with these people by blood, but in many ways you also didn’t feel at home with your real blood. Balon hadn’t been Theon’s father for ten years and Stannis had not treated you like a real daughter in the ten years since Shireen was born either. Yet you stood here now, accepted amongst these kinds and both someone of great importance to Robb Stark.

But still, perhaps what was spoken between you? Was just the insecurity of both, the worry that you wouldn’t be seen as one of them, and the wonder if you should be? For now, all you had to focus on was getting the Starks back.

Everything else now was secondary. This wasn’t a war of anything but justice.

It was Catelyn who later found you, “It seems our families can’t stop going into war together.”

Looking up at her from where you had been partially leaning against a tree, your tilted your head in mild agreement before looking back out to the camp. “Perhaps the crown should stop giving us reasons too.” Clearly there was something else on her mind, but you could see she was struggling to find the right words for it. Pushing up you stood next to her for a moment before speaking up. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Her face shifting into something confused before it morphed more into a motherly concern, saying your name consolingly you just shook your head and looked straight.

“No, I know I shouldn’t have. I thought I didn’t have enough time to get to him, or find Arya or Sansa and I just left. I was there to stand by your husband and do my duty, and I failed that.”

You could sense part of her wanting to come closer, the soft embrace of a mother but with your arms crossed and a distant harsh stare she looked down before taking but one step closer to your side. Not that she said anything, but it didn’t fail to occur to Catelyn that her own reunion with Robb was likely nowhere near anything you’d get should you see your own father and mother again.

The truth she spoke wasn’t sugar coated at the least, “If you had stayed there, the Lannisters would prefer your head on a spike then to even consider trading you.”

A whisper, but one without fear or pain as if you had thought of it too many times to be bothered anymore. “Knowing Joffery, he’d have it sent to my father. Paint a nice picture of what he was willing to do to keep his uncle from taking his throne.”

It bothered Catelyn that this didn’t seem to horrify you as it did her or Robb. “And yet you still think you shouldn’t have left? What would that do, whose justice are you serving by rotting away in a cell?”

A question you thought you knew, but the more you considered it the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that running wasn’t how you were raised. “We both stood in that room and committed the same crime, but I’m the one free and he isn’t. My duty was to stand by his side, what should these men think of me? Knowing I fled that?”

“Your duty is also to stand by Robb’s side, is it not?” Shoulders tensing, you felt tightness in your chest that put a pressure on your lungs. “There is every chance we can get Ned and the girls back safely, but you’re also Lord Stannis’s daughter. Cersei thinks she has no reason to fear us, but she does about your father. And killing you sends a better message then keeping you alive.”

Your eyes were trained down on your feet, a noise in your head that begun to turn into an ache. “I’m willing to wager trading your families lives in favour of my own would’ve caused a lot less bloodshed.”

She had no chance to respond, Robb’s warm voice coming up behind you both. “You mind if I steal her away?” Catelyn relented, but a look between them spoke of a worry in her eyes as his hand found it’s way to your lower back and pushing you forward. Beside him was a larger man, a harsh narrowed almost glare on his face and an armour that was dissimilar to the men around him but a little more like the lighter material of yours. The black colour also flared out in what looked like scales.

Robb introducing you both, and the design clicked. Brynden Tully, known to many as the Blackfish. You nodded to him as he watched you back with a curious look. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, my lady but I would’ve much preferred it to be anywhere but here.”

A weak willed half smirk slid onto your face for only seconds. “Same to you.”

Robb could sense something wasn’t quite right, but it just wasn’t the moment to address it nor did he suspect you were going to make that easy. He’d seen Theon talk to you about something and since then it was like something changed in your brain and kept you at arms from everyone around you.

At least it’d be easy to get out of the Greyjoy what he said then to try and force you to explain what was bothering you. He knew all too well you tended to keep it bottled up until it exploded.

The area around the table was crowded as those present huddled to debate their movements, plotting out who was where in the process. Robb was standing at the head, you and Theon on either side of him. Ser Rodrik to your left, then around the bend was Greatjon Umber, Brynden Tully, Rickard Karstark then closing the loop beside Theon was Roose Bolton.

Night had fallen on the camp and a decision needed to be made now if they were to have any chance at riding ahead of any scouts from the opposite end. Roose Bolton leaning forward as he debated his own stance. “We need to get him on broken ground, put his knights at a disadvantage.”

Greatjon was loud in response to the former’s more quiet tone but with no less fever. “No, we need to get around him and break Jaime Lannister’s siege of Riverrun. Do that and the River Lords will join us.”

Peeling your eyes from the map you met the man’s eyes, a spark of agreement that had you both give the other a very slight nod. Loud and brash, but he had a better point in your eyes. Robb beside you had his eyes much like yours on the map as he plotted out in his head. “To do either we need to cross the river, and the only crossing is at The Twins.”

Palms braced on the table, you scratched at the wood with your nails slightly. “Robb’s right, we need that bridge, but Lord Frey isn’t going to just open the gates and let us pass. Or if the Lannisters have bribed him to their side.”

Brynden Tully rapped his knuckles lightly against the map, “We get to the Twins, then what is it going to be? Do we move against Jaime, or Lord Tywin?”

The answer on Robb’s tongue was interrupted however, two men dragging a small man covered in grime in between. “Pardon, my lords. We’ve captured a Lannister scout.”

Both you and Theon taking an edge and throwing it over the other half to cover the pieces at play, catching the Greatjon’s amused attention. “Don’t you worry, he won’t be leaving this tent with his head.”

Robb watched the scout with careful, dark eyes. Calmly asking where they found him. “In the brush above the encampment. He looked to be counting.”

The quiet in the tent was thick, the only sound being Robb making his way around to the front never taking his eyes off the nervous scout. Coming in front of him, he still made no move that put him at any less fear. “How high did you get?”

Eyes darting around the room before looking back to him, “Twenty thousand. Maybe more.”

Leaning forward, you watched Robb who had yet to give anything away but you could see the gears in his head click into place. Ser Rodrick beside you, knowing him still as a boy tried to offer an out. “You don’t have to do this yourself, your father would understand-”

Turning to him, Robb looked not like the boy he thought he was speaking too, and his voice as sure as any of the seasoned fighters in the tent. “My father understands mercy, when there is room for it.” The men around you far more looked with less confidence as he looked back to the scout. “Let him go.”

The smallest whisper of protest was let out, but a pride filled you with how quickly it was shut down as Robb turned to look at them all. Only as his eyes met you, did yours narrow slightly with a tiny tilt down of your head almost like a nod of yes. You could see the conclusion, both Greatjon and Roose were right.

Stepping towards the scout, Robb leaned in close, voice low and a dangerous authority to it that ran shivers down your spine. “Tell Lord Tywin, winter is coming for him. Twenty thousand northerners marching south to find out if he really does shit gold.”

Almost shocked at leaving with his life, the scout had some decency before being dragged out. “Yes my lord, thank you my lord.”

It appeared, his choice was not yet clicking in some. Both Roose Bolton and Greatjon Umber appeared their own distinct variety of angry but it was the hulking size of the later that rounded the table to get into Robb’s face. Almost spitting as he scolded him, “Are you touched boy? Letting him go?”

Without even a blink, Robb was quietly calm and unflinching. “You call me boy again.” Greatjon leaned forward as did Robb. “Go on.”

Greatjon stammered, taking a leave with nothing more then a huff. A rowdy man that you suspected wouldn’t quite temper that aggression until Robb could prove his worth, a worth you had no doubt in whatsoever. Turning back, he looked to you as your eyes shined with a proud and impressed glaze over them, pulling the map back Robb assumed his previous position. Two carved wolf heads being put down in front of each carved Lion.

“Once we reach below the Neck, we split into two.”

The plan had to move fast, whatever negotiation with Lord Walder Frey was going to have to be done quickly. Roose Bolton would lead two thousand men to the Green Fork and sneak up on Tywin in the early morning before any word could reach him or Jaime Lannister that the main force of the army was sneaking right up on the kingslayer in Riverrun.

If the scouts were correct, you’d come right up behind him at Whispering Wood but first as you stood on the hill in sight of the crossing at the Twins you knew time was ticking. Theon stood primed with a bow, ensuring no word was coming in or out by raven. So far none stood out, and none were directed anywhere but as letters to other Freys, the last one read out by Theon, “A birthday to his grand niece Walda.”

“Or so Walder Frey would have you think.” Catelyn looking to Theon, “Keep shooting them down, we can’t risk Lord Walder sending any word to the Lannisters.”

You and Robb stood next to one another, the tensity in your veins seemed to twist and connect to his as you stared at the bridge in the bright barley rising sun. “Father rots in a dungeon, how long before they take his head? We need to cross the Trident and we need to do it now.”

Theon looking over to him, “Just march up to his gates and tell him you’re crossing, we’ve got five times the numbers. You can take the twins if you have too.”

Watching the sight you could only see the darkness of the black cells you knew Eddard Stark was still tossed into. “Not in time, Lord Tywin will either get too far north to surprise or he’ll hear word from his own scouts before we can get Bolton and his men at their heels.” You and Robb glanced the other, an urgency in both your eyes. “For six hundred years they’ve exacted their toll, we need to get in there and make a deal now.”

“Have my horse saddled and ready.” Peeling his eyes from you, Robb looked to his mother who turned to look at him with her own disapproval.

“Enter the Twins alone and he’ll sell you to the Lannisters.”

Others threw out other suggestions, but if you were to get across now there was no use in standing around debating how to go about it. The longer it took as well the was increasing the chance that you’d lose the ambush on Jaime. Robb shutting down his mens protest. “My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing. Whatever it took, and if I’m going to lead this army I won’t have other men doing my bargaining for me.”

Just as he looked down to you, Catelyn spoke up. “I agree. I’ll go.” The protests were just as loud as before but there was a calm confidence in her. “I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl. He would never harm me.”

Something turned in your stomach, like it was filling up with blood and threatening to spill out from a slice inside it. Only Robb heard you, gripping your wrist with a thumb over your pulse to ease you down as you whispered. “Unless he had a profit in it.”

Nerves raced within you the longer time ticked by, an antsy feeling that refused to give up no matter how calm others around you felt. You supposed this was normal, that most in your position felt this way but the passing of time had you staring out to the water like jumping in would wash away the growing lurch of anxiety.

Sat down on a high stone nearby, you had one arm laying across your chest as your elbow rested on it to bring your nails up to your lips. Threatening to tear at the skin until a rough hand slid across the back of your neck firmly. “You know it never felt real until right now.”

Robb didn’t question, just coaxed you to stand up. Facing you now his hand drifted more to the side of your neck so his thumb stroked at your jaw. His blue eyes bright in the morning sun and an anxious pang smacked you at what was to come once more. You grabbed at his wrist, turning with it so he rested it alongside your collarbone and you leaned back into the cold armour on his chest.

“All these men, they all came at my call. Following my commands, but they’re all far less terrified then I am.” Your hand tightened against him with a furrow of your brows. “Maybe they’ll know we’re coming, get the jump on us and then I lead them all into a slaughter.” You could feel him glancing at those whom were to be headed towards the Kingsroad into Tywins forces. “More then I already am.”

His voice was deep and rough in your ear as he forced himself to stay calm about it. “I thought the scariest part would be the prospect of yourself dying when I was a kid. I never understood why my father didn’t even blink twice when he set out to take out the Iron Fleet, but I think I get it.”

Your heart raced and your limbs itched to move as you both stood there, “I’m not just watching you sail off to war and hope you come back. I’d have to watch it, or even worse have to live with myself knowing I survived and you don’t.”

He didn’t show the fear he spoke of, it was kept tight in his chest and you wished you had that ability to stay so together. “Then we just don’t die then.” You could feel the small grin in his voice, bringing one out of you as Brynden approached.

“Pardon the interruption, but I know two scared shitless kids when I see it.” If the anxiety weren’t so strong you may have felt flustered at how Robb didn’t move an inch from you as he turned to his great uncle. “Saying we all felt the same before our first time won’t help, but it’s true.”

Robb holding you an indeterminable amount of tighter, “It’s not just being able to fight, I have to lead these men. My father needs me to lead them.” His voice was controlled, not letting much get passed an even tone.

Coming next to you both, Brynden from that angle reminded you a lot of Catelyn. Tougher, brasher and far more authoritative by nature you assumed, but you could see the same worry in his eyes that you had seen in hers many times. “If you weren’t good enough to lead them you would’ve have gotten all them this far anyways. Not just anyone can command twenty thousand men for the first time. Gods know Edmure doesn’t have that kind of leadership.”

You hadn’t met him, but from all accounts he seemed to be in a similar place as Renly once was in the trio of siblings. The youngest and the one which didn’t have the same kind of authority that ran deep in the families blood. At least the Tully didn’t see fit to crown himself and tear the family apart.

Not a single Baratheon was working together, and yet the Starks and Tullys both seek to work together for the sake of a cause of family and justice. The only Baratheon who is even with another of your family is Shireen, but being ten she didn’t count. You were quiet in volume, but the more you leaned against Robb the calmer you felt. “Your fathers a good leader, for all his faults mine is too but I think that’s the problem.” Robb looked down to you, his curls brushing over the side of your head slightly. “You’ve gotten us this far on your own merit, and we didn’t follow you because we expect you to be like Lord Stark. We all followed you because we trust in you.”

Brynden nodding to him, a fond look in his eye to his great nephew before looking to you. “And you’re certainly not your father.” Looking over with a raised eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders as his arms crossed his sleek black armour. “Trust me, us riverlands folk might be more forgiving, but that lot wouldn’t trust Robb if they thought you’d bring him down.”

You bit your tongue, keeping your face impassive. “Guess I die, we’ll find out if that's true.”

Maybe on another day this talk of death would’ve put Robb off, but this was your first battle as it was his. You both knew the others skill, but there was too much at stake in this battle. You lose this and you lose this entire fight for Lord Stark’s life. You lose this with your life? Even worse.

Jaime would have yours and Robb’s head sent to Kings Landing and no doubt Joffery would parade them around the court boasting about what fools the northerners are. You had been in a cell expecting that to be you, but you’d rather throw yourself down in front of the court then have the same done to Robb.

Some time passed before Robb spoke up again, “What do you think he’s asking? Walder Frey?”

Brynden rose an eyebrow with a grimace on his face. “Be thankful you’re married already. There’s nothing Frey wants more then to spread that damned family of his across the kingdoms more then their ugly mugs already are.”

You never considered yourself attractive, your mother was never spoken of like the beauty of the Stark women, your own sister whispered as “that ugly daughter” like they had any right. You briefly wondered if he’d be better off with a pretty Frey girl, a strangely childish and girly worry while you waited to send men off to battle.

By the time Catelyn had returned, you all were quite antsy through the whole camp. Those whose blooded their swords before ready to jump atop their horses and go, and others worried about how long it would take before it was too late in the morning to not be spotted early.

Looking up, she seemed to have an air of relief about her. Robb beside you spoke first, “Well? What did he say?”

All in the tent dropping with a sigh as she spoke, “Lord Walder has granted your crossing. His men are yours as well.” The Greatjon letting out a small sound at the news. Numbers were indeed what you needed desperately with the events about to come. “Less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the crossing against any who would pursue you.”

Now comes the part all dreaded as he asked, “And what does he want in return?”

“You will be taking on his son Olyvar as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time.” You held off a smirk at the easy dismissal from Robb, more of a nuisance then a burden at the least so far. However, “And Arya will marry his son Elmar when they both come of age.”

You and Robb did share a glance at that one, you could genuinely hear her yelling about such a thing from here. You tilted your head with a slight grimace, “She won’t like that one bit.” Catelyn paused, making you both worry. “And?”

She sighed to herself, glancing at Brynden. “When the fighting is done, Edmure is to marry one of his daughters. Whichever he prefers.” So Arya wouldn’t be the only one causing a fuss over this deal it seemed, but it was so. Crossing was granted.

As the horses mounted, the drawbridge crossed you, Robb, and Roose Bolton passed first. The pair of you nodding to the man, his own confident back. “When we meet again, my lord, my lady.” Watching two thousand men ride off in the direction to get the jump on Tywin Lannister you and Robb looked at one another.

For everything you worried about earlier, it was that sight and that sight alone that had you both feeling unwell. Roose was a skilled man and a terrifying one at that, but the men he led weren’t being drawn to a fair fight. They were cattle being tossed onto the Lannisters for slaughter as you jumped on the other.

You and Robb looked at one another as the men all crossed to the other side. His voice was even and confident like the man you’d seen last night. “You with me?”

You exhaled the shaking on the inside. “Now and always.”

The feeling you had watching the men head one way was the same feeling Catelyn had the watching her son and his wife lead the others in the opposite. Ser Rodrick stayed behind with her, from the point of safety when she refused to leave. The longer the two of them waited, the more she felt her heart tear itself up.

When she had watched Ned ride off to war over two decades ago, she had found out soon after she was pregnant. Robb was the thing that carried her through being alone in that war and now she sat atop her horse, waiting to see if that same son would come back. A son who started a war to rescue his father.

And you. As she waited, Catelyn felt she hadn’t given you the chance. She’d known you since you were a little girl, watched you grow up on and off in her own home and see her children and husband consider you one of their own. But the older you got, the more your friendships started to form and she couldn’t help but think she let one of those get in the way.

It made sense, out of all of her husbands children you and Jon Snow were the most alike. The quieter ones, a little more reserved and closed off and tended to be on the sidelines. A night she remembered vividly, you had been twelve and Jon fourteen, you two had snuck out in the dead of night. Arya was barley two, and was terrorizing Cat’s sleep by doing nothing but fuss and cry at night.

She walked through the second floor outside, gently humming her newborn to sleep when she saw you both come into the yard from the stables. The pair of you soaking wet, head to toe clothes and all as Jon was walking you both forward, his arms wrapped around your front as you could barley speak through teeth chattering laughter.

Apparently having snuck out to ride to a small lake in the dead of night, Jon had picked you up and tossed you in the water, and when you went to climb out, he jumped in himself and dragged you back with him. You both were so comfortable with the other in a way she hadn’t seen from you and Robb, not that you and him weren’t friends but she’d just never seen Jon like this.

It was painfully obvious to her in that moment, Jons crush. She didn’t know when it went away, but the older he got the less she ever saw it until it stopped occurring to her. You were younger, you were only twelve and hadn’t even bled yet, you weren’t thinking of boys that way. The boys did though. Robb, almost fifteen by then had confessed to Cat that he thinks he liked you and it was seeing that same crush in her husbands bastard son’s that made her put a block up.

That crush went away for Jon, and eventually it seemed to simmer down for Robb as you both became adults and had other duties to attend too. But she always kept something in her mind as if it was your fault that you were just closer to Jon. Like you chose a side, but where were you now?

In the thick of Whispering Wood fighting by your husbands side, by Robbs side and she felt ashamed for not having looked to you like the daughter you were now. You both didn’t marry in love, but the foundations were all there.

She hadn’t accepted that when Robb called the banners, it was you he was also fighting for, and yet you were the one who fought your way back to him first just so he didn’t have to ride into war alone. She’d seen the way her son looks at you and it wasn’t fair of her to dismiss you like you were just another soldier in his army.

Catelyn saw the way that you only ever looked like there was truly a living breathing emotional woman in there when you looked at her son. The way you and Robb would grasp at the others wrist was just like that day in Brans room. Grasping at the boys wrist, feeling his pulse as weak as it was to remind yourself that he was indeed still alive.

You hadn’t lectured her, judged her, or said anything but your own understanding of her grief. You hugged her, kissed the top of her head like she was the child in need of comfort and not you. And she hadn’t given you any of that courtesy from the moment she returned.

“We should go, my lady.” Catelyn didn’t even look at him as she refused. Ser Rodrick leaning closer with more urgency, “My lady..” But horses were in the distance. And Catelyn would see them no matter what.

Hearing them gallop and neigh before beyond the treeline did they appear, dark ones all around the edges and two light ones up front. Was it a laugh or a sob that left her? Maybe both. But she smiled none the less.

You and Robb both rode next to the other. Grime, dirt, blood all covered him and you as your eyes trained harsh and forward. Your nerves had all but been shot out of their existence and your heart no longer pounding from your chest but weighing down inside of it. It was both everything you expected and yet none like it.

It was worse but not the nightmare you imagined somehow, and through it all the victory was with no question. The Lannisters had bigger numbers but were overrun like they were sparkling boys of summer unable to keep up. As you had been taught, you weren’t ever going to be strong like them. So you were quick, dodging all the lessons came back to you in many voices at once that blended together until you acted without them.

It was truly hell, but not one that you couldn’t do again. You’d only ever seen the Kingslayer almost overpowered once when he was up against Lord Stark and this time it seemed he had only become cockier for the worse. A man like him looked at Robb like a boy, young and inexperienced that was in over his head until blood was seeping from his face at Robb’s mercy.

Men trying him up with no care of how rough they handled him, Robb had looked to Grey Wind as his teeth bared and the blood pumped in his veins. Grey Wind snarling at the Kingslayer before running to where he had kept track of you.

Robb cared not who saw him stride up to his wife, and grab you by both sides of your face pulling you into a biting kiss before checking you over to see if you were hurt. If the men had anything to laugh about such a display, let them, he said.

Now as the man all surrounded the area, you climbed off your horse as Jaime Lannister was dumped onto the ground in front of Robb. Coming up to his side, you stared him down with nothing more then dark eye. Being jostled up onto his knees before you both, he looked up to you and had finally decided which house he saw fit you belonged too. “Lady Stark. I’d offer you my sword, but I’ve seemed to have lost it.”

His smug face and bright green eyes had once been described as handsome but they all painted him in a vile image as did the voice attached. “I’d take far more from you before that, Lannister.”

Theon stood behind him, the blood in his veins having not yet cooled he was loud and worked up as he spoke with vigor. “Kill him Robb. Send his head to his father, he cut down ten of our men. You saw him.”

Eyes now dark and glaring, Robb spoke low and calm as the eyed the once great fighter on his knees bloody and broken. “He’s more use to us alive then dead.” Standing there, he looked truly like the wolf he was meant to be.

Glancing up at Greatjon you nodded to him, “Put him in irons, feel free to make sure they’re tight.”

Grabbing him roughly, Greatjon yanked him up as Jaime just could not control that mouth of his. A flaw he never outgrew it seemed. Twice your ages and more of a patronizing child in the face of the Stark who beat him firsthand. “We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives.”

Call him a boy, you thought but he was more of a man then the Lannister had ever been in his entire life. Letting him spill out his little speech as he watched with no taste for the games. “You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, nails choose your weapon, and let’s end this here and now.”

Robb didn’t hesitate against him. “If we do it your way, kingslayer. You’d win. We’re not doing it your way.”

You nodded at Greatjon to take him away, him snatching him up and dragging him along, “Come on, pretty man.”

The men around you and Robb cheered, smiles and yells for what they’d accomplished. But you and him looked not at them, not each other. His voice broke your heart as it was full of sorrow, “I sent two thousand men to their graves today.”

Theon trying his cheer, “The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice.”

Lannister called Robb a boy, but there was man beside you. One full of a painful responsibility that he felt in his bones, one that was no game or glory that he knew rested on him. “Aye, but the dead won’t hear them.” He stepped towards you, arms pressed up against the other as you both looked out to the men around.

Robb twisted his hand, grabbing your wrist and you did his. Both of you feeling the beating pulse of the other under their thumb, and pressing against it with harsher pressure in desperation. His voice was loud, cracks as he cared not to hide the weight of their losses. “One victory does not make us conquerors. Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen?”

You held each other tighter as he pleaded the reality to his men. “Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?” There was quiet amongst them. “This war is far from over.”

Robb looked to you finally and you back, not letting go of the other for a while after. But he was right, this war was not yet over. Only, the war he set out towards burned in front of you when the raven arrived as hours turned to a passing day upon its landing.

Dragged away from the other as the slimy words of Janos Slynt coated your ears and his roughness scratched you up, the last you saw of him was the shocked, angry betrayal as you were forced from the other. The last you saw of him was the seconds after you both had put your lives on the line for the sake of the truth, and as it turned out it would be the final time.

Silence was painful in the camp that day. Defeat heavy in the hearts of men who all came together and just as they begun it was taken off of them. You heard not the quiet words of the soldiers you passed, and you didn’t know if they thought you cared. Face cold, staring forward with nothing but a shaking will power to stay stoned and together in front of them.

You felt no breathe leaving or entering your lungs, but they screamed at you as the world felt fuzzy and the sensations coming to you felt unreal. You had reached a clearing that was scarce by the edge of the camp as you collapsed with your back against a tree.

Kneeling over all alone you gasped, ragged breaths that stung and did nothing to settle you. The panic and gut churning anxiety of what you had done, left behind to such a fate made you feel sick and horrified. Someone on an island you once called home, Stannis Baratheon was alive and well.

So why did this feel like you lost a father? Why did the last thing you did, being smuggled out of the city without Eddard Stark feel like you were at fault and you had the sword in your own had that did it? Why was the world spinning and your breaths coming out in cries you hadn’t noticed?

For years you knew him, and now you felt as if you had been Joffery and you had cut his head off. But no, not even Joffery would do it, he’d leave the pain of being Eddard Stark’s killer to others and not get his hands dirty.

The senses around you only came too when the sound of another person was somewhere ahead of yourself. Yells followed by a thud, grunts that had a similar crying pain to them that called to you, the cool air revealing tears down your cheeks you didn’t know fell in such volume.

Coming up the hill in the brush of the woods did the sun peeking it’s final moments brighten the scene before you. And there was the now the only thing your heart could see. The slashes of his sword against the tree were harsh and violent, and the pain yelling out each time from Robb cut you as he did it.

Twice you tried calling his name, but the sob in your own throat fought with it. Forcing yourself up an edge to the flat ground he stood at you called to him once more, a waver in your voice. “Robb,”

The man he was, gone. Tears of his own, face twisted and broken as he heaved looking at you. Maybe you should be comforting, but he wouldn’t be fooled if you tried to ignore the tears of your own as you looked a the other. You had such little conviction in your tone, nothing but a weak softness that knew there was nothing you could say. “I-”

Head dropping down, his hands gave up. Letting his ruined sword fall to the dirt and leaves as he stepped towards you. He was no longer the man, the leader you saw, and you were not the woman his men watched stand by his side.

He collapsed into your arms, his wrapping around your waist as you both knelt down. You wrapped yours around his shoulders, and one cradling the back of his head to your neck as you perched in his lap. Trying to hold as much of the larger man as you could in your arms as he held onto you.

Robb spoke and it was nothing but pain, a growl in his tears that was a wolf too in pain to hold himself up. But there was such anger and pain in his voice that it pulled more tears from you, and you pulling him closer to you. “I’ll kill them all. Every single one of them. I’m going to kill them all.”

You ducked your head into his curls and kept him close, his arms tightening around you. Your voice was like a whisper in his hair only for him, and with a softness that was new to both. “My love,” He held you closer. “I’m with you, I promise. You and I, we stay together from now on, and I promise we will kill them all.”

Pulling his head up enough, he found the strength to cup your cheeks as his blue eyes found strength for one thing only to give you. Muttering close to you, you felt his breathe on your face as he spoke and his words only pulled tears more. “I love you, now and always.”

You pressed your forehead to his, feeling like the only two who existed anymore and your heart couldn’t find a way to be closer if you tried, you returning the gesture as you held the others face impossibly close. “And I love you now, and always will.”

You shared a kiss, gentle and both of you poured your heart into it. Pulling back, he fell into your neck and your face into his hair. Neither you nor Robb know how long you knelt there together, but there was only one thing you walked away with and it was the only one either of you needed.

Robb had made you his lady wolf, and in turn you gave him your heart and the young wolf gave you his.

The gods had punished you all, and now, they intended for one final test. Your heart was Robb’s, but your loyalty? Your sword? Your duty to the justice demanded from you?

Your heart was asked to choose between something and you made that choice to Robb. But you had another that you didn’t expect, and one you had no way of knowing was coming that same night.

Fitting in with this lot seemed to be of your nature. Neither you, nor Robb, or Catelyn displayed the sheer pain felt by Ned’s loss but as you looked at her, and her you? She saw the pain you could see in her and once more her doubt of you melted away. Robb sat you next to him with Grey Wind laying by his feet as the men gathered around.

His hand was on your thigh as he had you sit up against him with no shame for his display.

Roose Bolton had returned with the few straggling survivors to the news, and thus the fighting begun. A purpose you all came together to fight was taken from you. Now? There were three kings pulling in every direction. Three kings and no agreement.

From one end Galbert Glover had been fighting with the Blackwoods before he turned to Robb with confidence. “The proper course is clear. Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with him.”

Robb watched you shut your eyes in a frustration he knew was making your head pound. Grey Wind below him reached his head up to run against your leg as Robb yelled, “Renly is not the king.”

Glover for all his skill as a soldier, was not a man who could read the camp well. “You cannot mean to hold to Joffery, my lord. He put your father to death.”

You peeled your eyes to look up at the man with a fierce glare and gritted teeth, “That doesn’t make Renly King.” The camp had been growing to learn to listen to your quiet tones as they many times were laced with a surety that many of them did not have.

Robb shutting down that side of the debate, “He’s Robert’s youngest brother. If Bran can’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can’t be king before Stannis.” Someone in the crowd asking if this meant they were to declare for Stannis.

As he looked to you, and you to him there was a tightness in your face that screamed of a doubt that was difficult to explain and impossible in front of this lot. But Robb could read you easy, a hesitation about loyalty to your own father as something inside of you had been pulling away from what used to be your duty as just his heir.

Fighting continued before Greatjon started to yell. “My Lords,” repeating himself louder as he stood facing the crowd with his great stature. “Here is what I say to these two kings.” Spitting on the ground half of the crowd laughed, and you raised your eyebrows in wonder.

Continuing he seemed more confident then you’d ever seen and more passionate then the other men trying to lead the debate. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine fro some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the Wall? Or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong.”

Pointing to you with a bit of a smirk as he said your name, “Well we know all too well she’s had more then enough Northern inside of her to make her one of us.” The crowd definitely laughed at that one, making you bit your tongue to fight back a fierce fluster as Robb gripped your thigh higher and rougher.

“Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead.” Pulling out his sword, you stared with parted lips as he pointed to Robb who sat with a powerful respect. “There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee too. The King in the North!”

Shivers ran all the way down your spine, Robb didn’t look at you as he stood, but his hand on your waist ensured you stood with him. Another stood next, “I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castles, and their Iron chair too.” Coming before you both, he pulled his sword out kneeling down with his sword blade in the ground. “The King in the North.”

Theon next, no question in his voice as he looked at Robb. “As your brother, I swear to be yours to command. The King in the North.”

There was pause as some looked to you. You were his wife, rode into battle by his side and was seen by many as Northern as that like Catelyn was now. You also, were the daughter, a would be declared heir to the one man with the best claim to the Iron Throne.

You felt your insides shake, and your heart swell as you looked beside you. Robb finding your eyes with not a second of guess or question as you spoke to him. “Are we together, now and always?”

“Now and always.”

You felt you eyes sting and did nothing to hide the water wanting to glaze over as you looked at Robb, turning to face him as you stepped back to be right in front of his person. Pulling your sword out, you knelt down closer to him then the others, but knelt all the same. “My heart is yours, my sword is yours. In victory and defeat, from this day until our last day.”

The men of the camp erupted. Standing with their swords high in the air all yelled “King in the North” with a pride like a chant as no man there saw him as anything less.

Robb pulled you up as they yelled, arm around your waist as you both looked at the other as if this was only a fate he wanted if you are to be his at his side. Turning to the crowd, you both looked with a hesitation but awe.

Robb Stark did not choose his fate as King in the North, but the North itself decided he was the only one they would follow now and ever. You had chosen a wolf’s heart today, and now you had chosen your loyalty, your duty, the people who were as much yours to protect as your husbands.

You chose your side.

Miles away in either direction, your fate was known by two. One, hair dark and curls more wild as he heard none, but in his head was the vision of two. The sight of you by his brothers side with love in the eyes of both. Why he kept seeing you like this, why you would appear to him in the dark in foggy visions and dreams at all he didn’t know.

His heart did though, and it tightened a little more painfully as it did each time his dreams showed you with Robb. Jon Snow didn’t go to the wall thinking he would move on from you, he went there thinking he would eventually learn to accept the gods chose Robb for you instead. But it was getting harder and harder to accept that with every harsh blow, every new horror he slowly uncovered in the icy north.

Jon Snow did not understand why he was being shown dreams of you that seemed to come true.

On the other side of the continent on an equally dark place, only this was an island of more then just dim looks. This was the place you once called home, and the people who once called you family.

As news reached him, it would take someone with a keen eye to see the sheer amount of anger in his eyes. Stannis Baratheon, the one true King now stood a the painted table looking over the raven scroll for five times to many now. His firstborn daughter, the one he expected would come to him with the allegiance of the North, the one who would be his heir?

But the North had declared Robb Stark their King in the North, and the River Lords had joined them.

Renly took his men, Joffery took his throne, Robb Stark took two Kingdoms for himself and now had taken Stannis’s daughter and heir, as his Queen. Queen in the North those lot had named her, and oh did those words mock him as he read them over.

The woman in red, draped around the angered Stannis. “She will come to us, my King. Her and her wolf both, the flames have shown it to me. The Princess will return to you, and with her love beside her. The heart of the Great Wolf will stand by you too. That I promise you. The Lord of Light has shown it.”

[thethreeeyed-raven]

not sure if you still take got reqs but id LOVE to see more bran x secret gf/bf nsfw headcanons- the risk of the entire kingdom hearing and someone catching you guys, meanwhile he just keeps at it AJDJFGHEG😫

bran stark secret gf/bf headcanons pt2

navigation | warnings : not much nsfw sorry😭 | a/n : i’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted lmao | bran stark playlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

in meetings with the council, he would try to avoid eye contact with you but he just can't help but sneak a little glance

at first no one noticed your escapades, but they were soon starting to get suspicious

once Brienne came up to you with Podrick trailing behind her (Bran had let him have the day off) and asked you if you and Bran had something going on

how you managed to keep your cool was astonishing

sometimes you'd both skip meetings and have some fun in his chambers

that was when EVERYONE figured it out

You had known the Starks since you were a child. Of course, you didn't have favourites, but your time was well spent around their first girl, Sansa.

You both held a soft spot for each other. Okay, you did have favouites.

But another Stark held a more special place in your heart.

Bran.

Unfortunately you were not allowed to follow Sansa to Kingslanding all those years ago, and you couldn't stop Robb from leaving Winterfell.

Since then, there were only four Starks left. And for all that time, you've been with Bran.

You've always had feelings for Bran, but they were only ever shown when you two were alone.

Once again, you and Bran had skipped an important meeting just to spend time with each other.

"We can't keep skipping these meetings Bran, Brienne keeps asking more questions and Tyrion keeps getting more annoyed by the da-"

Bran cut you off with a peck on the lips. "Tyrion isn't the King."

"He may as well be if you keep this up." Sighing, you sat yourself up and placed your hand on his cheek. "The kingdom is more important than me, you need to put them first."

Bran lifted himself and rested against the bed frame. "But my Queen is important to me also. It not only this Kingdom I hold in my hands, but you and the rest of the world too."

"I don't want to the people to riot if they hear you are with me, you and Tyrion cannot control everyone."

"I will if I have to, because I would do anything for you." He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, then placed your palm above his heart.

You were truly his Queen.

[the-fiction-witch]

Brandon!

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Brandon Stark Couple - Bran X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Smut Word Count - 595

Bran walked slowly and carefully through the halls of Winterfell. As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence for the many people who had walked these halls before him. The shadows and ghosts of those who had passed on seemed to fill the air around him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and curiosity.

As he continued through the halls, Bran saw many faces he recognized from the statues in the crypts.

Out of curiosity, Bran continued to walk, and as he did, time seemed to rush forward. He saw glimpses of the future, flashes of scenes and events that would one day take place in these very halls.

Finally, Bran arrived at his chamber, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, eager to see what the future held 

However, as soon as he entered the room, Bran was taken aback by what he saw. The sight before him was not at all what he had expected, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and foreboding.. 

He stopped short as he saw his chamber, the fire burning with the light flickering and letting shadows dance, The bed was a mess, and Y/n lay on the bed on her back. 

She laid on her back, her head thrown back, her feet up on the bed, her knees apart, her hands gripping the sheets, she moaned and squealed. 

A dark-haired man laid between her legs, kissing and licking her clit, one hand on her thigh the other inside her moving fast and hard back inside her. 

Immediately Bran felt jealous, at the idea of another man between her legs made his blood boil and he was filled with rage. But his rage was very quickly Quelled, 

she tossed her head back again and moaned. "Brandon!" 

He smirked a little moving closer and took the time to really look and enjoy the sight, he of course had never seen their intimate time from such an angle, and he enjoyed it. He loved watching her reach to his work, He almost felt like climbing into bed and getting to kiss and play with her breasts while his future self still worked on her. 

But he stayed back and watched until he watched her reach her orgasm her face went red, her body trembling, and she screamed as she gripped the sheets tighter and collapsed on the bed. 

The future bran pulled back and smirked down at her, "Happy my sweet?"

"Very happy Bran..."

"Shall we... continue?"

"Mhm," she nodded helping the future version of him to lay in the bed so she could climb on top of him, "Ughhh! Bran!" she squealed, 

"Bran? Bran!" Y/n's voice asked,

Bran shook out of his visions of the future and found himself in his chambers on the bed by the fire, seeing Y/n standing over the bed in her usual dress. "Hi Y/n,"

"Hello Brandon, having fun running around the past and future?" 

"Very much fun," He nodded,

"Glad you were enjoying it, but it's dinner time," she told him,

"Is it now," He smirked, "How about you lay down and let me eat then?"

"Brandon!" she chuckled, "You dirty boy!"

"You love it," he smirked pulling her down for a kiss,

She chuckled and kissed him back, "After dinner." She told him,

"Awww? Making me wait?"

"You can manipulate time you never have to wait for anything," 

"I still don't like waiting,"

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, "what first?"

"On your back, with your knees up. I have a real fun idea." 

[crownedtargaryen]

ahhh yay!!

i would like to request something for modern!bran if that’s okay🙏🏻

i was thinking maybe modern!bran with goth reader?

like just headcanons or an imagine, whatever you’d like

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to :)

lipstick. modern!bran headcanons

MASTERLIST pairing: modern!bran x goth!reader (a/n): I'm so sorry this is so short! Being goth has a lot of different types in that aesthetic, so I tried to generalize and keep it as unspecific as I could! (this Bran goes with this headcanon post I did of him) all notes are appreciated. tag list: @thethreeeyed-raven @howyouloveyourdragon @hopelesswritergall @fairysluna @clairacassidy @ad-astra-again @its-actually-minicika

SFW

• Bran loves you so much

• he ADORES when you sit on his lap and you do his makeup

• though, he's SUUUCH a pain to put makeup on

• he's always laughing and moving, trying to lean in and kiss you

• you have to yell at him, giving him a small smack as he cackles

• "what? can I not have a kiss?" he'll feign innocence that'll make you roll your eyes

• black cat and golden retriever

• he loves letting you dress him up in gothic themed clothing, so proud of any and all outfits you give him

• posts pics of you. over dressed gothic partner with the underdressed basic gamer

• he loves to bring you on his streams, the chat LOVVVES you

• he'll do "partner picks my aesthetic" streams with you, just adoring how excited you get in contrast to your darker more standoffish look

• def looks a bit strange seeing you side by side, but he doesn't care. ur his pfp on EVERYTHING and loves the way you present yourself

• def been called a discord mod with his kitten which has plagued your day to day life where he will jokingly call you kitten

• "that's a lot of talk for my discord kitten," he'll tease, knowing how frustrated it makes you.

does NOT shut up about how he wants to do beastboy x raven

ORR BATMAN X CAT WOMAN he’s OBSESSEDDD

def will call you emo for your aesthetic, laughs so hard when you’re get a bit angry with him

“hey! don’t be mad, maybe i like emos.” he’ll coo, just making you huff then kiss him to shut him up

def will let your paint his nails shades of black and grey, wears that shit with pride

LOVES it when you put on dark lipstick and kiss all over his face. he’s done that smudged lipstick tiktok so many times 👀

even though you’re the more intimidating outer shell of the relationship, bro will fight god for you

someone says shit about your aesthetic, calls you emo or says something harsh, he’s ON IT.

only he’s allowed to poke fun at his partner. someone says shit?

lets just say he’s almost killed a few people

forces you to teach him how to use a wax seal

he’ll nag you for hours, and you finally teach him and he’s over the moon

then one day, he’ll show up with a parchment letter that he’s tea stained for you. you honestly don’t believe it at first

bran didn’t SEEM like the type to do this, but gods he DID IT HE WROTE YOU A GOTHIC PARCHMENT LETTER QUILL AND INK AND EVERYTHING??!!

He LIVES to make you smile with gifts like that

constantly bugging you about what new clothes or shoes you want, what jewelry you may like, what antique gothic trinkets you think are beautiful

then within days they’re in ur hands and you just are like “oh.”

HE LOOOVES taking you to museums of antique medieval gothic resorts

he loves to hear you talk about them, grinning at your excitement and passions and how beautiful you look when you talk so much you run out of breath and have to sharply inhale before continuing

after taking you to the museum he’ll take you on a romantic moonlit picnic with only candles he brought and distant street lights illuminating you both

and he’ll softly go

“i love you…” pause. “even though you’re kind of emo.” then break into a cackle and beg you not to get up and leave

NSFW

• absolutely loves how your black makeup runs down your face when he tails the fuck out of you

• he loves the sight of your hair scattered across the bed as he pins you down, mascara running down your cheeks as you cry in pleasure

• he loves when you have dark lipstick on and kiss all over his body. gladly takes pictures of it and posts it on his private twitter

• usually after sex his face is covered in dark lipstick smudged over his swollen lips and flushed cheeks

• he loves ripping your dark thigh highs apart, immediately delving in your goods with the thin cloth RIPPED APART so easily.

• sometimes gets frustrated because of the layers to your outfits

• he's a switch, loves when you dom him and leave him a begging crying mess with lipstick marks on his thighs and hardened buds on his chest

will never ever stop joking about “you love dark things? let me make some dark ass marks on that pretty little neck.” while he growls and pulls you onto his lap with a cheeky grin