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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

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Hey there just m back again with a request where it’s cerisi and roberts daughter who’s married to Robb. Can it be it’s after the red wedding she survived and she spent her time hinting those who participated in the red wedding but she gets brutally killed and somehow like whoever did it brings her corpse to Cersi and her reaction and maybe Tyrion reacting to the news too as he was quite close to her

Robb Stark*Don't Die For Me

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon!F!Reader

Word count: 3638

Warnings: the red wedding, robb dying, cat dying, reader dying, description of war/injuries, pregnancy, angst

Masterlist Here

The gown was made from thick snow-white wool, trimmed with a soft grey wolf fur with streaks of black. Stag horns were embroidered along the cuffs, yellow gold fastenings holding it together. Lannister red hearts were hand stitched by Myrcella around the hem of the dress. It was warm and thick and span out like a dancer’s dress whenever you twirled.

People gasped when they saw you enter the gods wood, arms linked with your father as you approached your husband. Robb wore simpler clothes with a heavy fur cloak over his shoulders that he would soon drape over your frame.

Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.

Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.

You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.

She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.

You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.

The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.

You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.

You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.

“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”

“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”

“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”

You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.

It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.

The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.

You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.

Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?

Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.

Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.

Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.

Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.

You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”

“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”

When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.

“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.

“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.

Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.

“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.

When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.

“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.

You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.

Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”

“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”

“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.

You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.

“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.

“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.

You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.

“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.

“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.

You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.

However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.

This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.

Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.

The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.

Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.

If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.

When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.

You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.

You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.

For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.

When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.

Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.

“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”

“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”

“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.

“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.

Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”

“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.

Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.

“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.

His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.

“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.

��Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”

“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “

“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.

“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.

“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.

“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

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starogeorgina · 5 months ago

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𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Baratheon reader

Warnings: None

1.02

You watch as the hot wax runs onto the surface of the rolled-up scroll, the color of which is much like blood. You press a stamp onto it and wait for the impression of a stag to set into the wax.

“Sending another letter to King's Landing?”

Looking over your shoulder, you smile. “Uncle, I had no idea you were there.”

In jest, he wags his finger. “You’re a very bad liar. Deceit wasn’t a Lannister trait you inherited.”

“Well, as my mother likes to remind me, I am my father’s daughter.” Your uncle was right; you were an awful liar. And you knew it was him approaching because Meraxes always hissed at him. “But no, I’m sending this to Winterfell.”

Tyrion places the jug of wine he brought with him in the middle of the small table. He sits across from you, smirking, “Oh, pray tell. The king's daughter, who’s going to marry a prince, sends love letters to her former betrothed. How scandalous.”

When you are happy that the scroll is securely sealed, you place it with the other two you wrote. “You sound like a gossiping lady at court, uncle.”

“That is not a denial, y/n.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Of course I’m not writing to Robb; I’m writing to Jon.”

Not long after your tenth name-day, Lord Stark traveled south with two of his sons, his eldest son Robb, and his bastard Jon Snow. You liked both of the lord's sons, but only Robb made you blush. Your father had proposed to betroth you to Robb, but your mother fought against it for years until she finally got her way and you were promised to another.

“Ah yes, Ned Starks bastard. Do let me know if you ever find out who the boy's mother is.” He takes a large gulp of wine, then lets out a satisfied sighing noise. “That truly has been a mystery at court.”

“And betray my friends' trust? Never,” you chuckle. “I’ve written to my father and siblings, but I’ve yet to receive anything back.”

“If it’s any consolation, I very much doubt my sister is letting them receive it. I’m sure Myrcella and Tommen would both be thrilled to know you’ve written to them.”

“I hope so.”

Tommen and Marcella were both you and impressionable; you didn’t want them to think you’d abandon them deliberately, gone to start a new life while leaving them behind without a second thought.

—

Burying your toes into the sand, you enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding your feet. You lean to the side and dip your finger into the cool water of the pond, causing a ripple effect on the surface. After a few moments, you watch as several colorful fish swim closer to your finger to investigate; one of them brushes against it, causing you to giggle slightly.

Feeling eyes on you, you look up and see Ellaria walking in the opposite direction across a wooden bridge. She was looking over her shoulder and glaring right at you.

The people of Dorne were rightfully still furious about the horrific deaths of Elia Martell and her children, and the anger was aimed in the direction of house Lannisters. Which has resulted in you being very lonely. Most people were indifferent or just outright hostile towards you. The only people who spoke to you daily were your uncle Tyrion and your lady-in-waiting. But you were the daughter of the king, so no matter how you felt, you needed to hold your head up high and not let them see how badly you were hurting.

“Princess.”

“Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn stands in front of you with his hands behind his back gracefully. Your mouth goes dry. Oberyn was tall and slender, with lustrous black hair. Even now, with his eyes squinting slightly because of the sun shining in them, you avoid his gaze, afraid you’d get drawn in by the darkness of them.

“Where is Lord Tyrion?”

A Dornish beauty who works in a pillow house had caught your uncle’s eye, so he would be most likely absent for the rest of the day. You click your tongue. “He has gone to drink the finest wine and bed the most beautiful woman.”

“Oh,” he laughs.

Your gaze remains on the pond as the prince sits down beside you. Oberyn was very flirtatious with both men and women; however, a mere simple interaction would cause your cheeks to burn.

“I’ve got you a gift,” he says, pulling a book from behind his back and giving it to you. “When we first met, you said your septa only told you what they wanted you to know.”

You read the title out loud, “The Songs of Robert's Rebellion.”

Oberyn seems intrigued as he watches your reaction closely. His intention was never to offend you, but when he heard the book had been written, he thought you might find it interesting.

You straighten your shoulders up, place the book on your lap, and look up at him, finally locking eyes, and it’s him. “They say my father had the strength of a giant; the weapon he used in battle was a spiked iron warhammer that was so heavy that Lord Stark could barely lift it himself. In his youth, my father was known to be quite fearless.”

“I dare say he was.”

Your lips press together into a thin line. It was easy for you to get carried away talking about your father. You want to believe the version of his heroics that the septa told you, but it was just a lie. They knew it, you knew it, and Prince Obryen knows it, but no one dares speak the truth.

“Are the two of you close?”

“Yes, we are. Are you close with your daughters?” It was common knowledge that the prince had several bastard daughters. You had briefly met his eldest, Obara, whom Obryen fathered at the age of thirteen.

“They are my whole world.”

“All my life, I’ve heard King Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. But he doesn’t feel that way.” Your father shared that he never felt so alive as when he was winning his throne, but from the moment he sat on the iron throne, he felt dead inside.

“Even a man with a reputation such as the king has a softness to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have named his firstborn daughter after his mother.”

Crossing your arms over you, you hold the book to your chest and smile softly. “Thank you for the gift; it was a thoughtful gesture.”

#game of thrones #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfic #Oberyn Martell #oberyn martell/you #oberyn martell x you #game of thrones fanfiction #sweet viper #oberyn martell x reader #Oberyn Martell/reader

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rise-my-angel · 6 months ago

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Heart of the Great Wolf

54 - The Final Marching Trek

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unspecified mental illness, mental duress, references to cheating/infidelity, body image issues, insecurities, violence and disturbing imagery, past trauma torture and mutilation, separation

Notes: Thank you for your patience in me posting this, I appreciate you all more then you know. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It was not a sight terribly dissimilar to the one you were looking to now. A ridge overlooking a river with the cold wind blowing your hair out in front of you. The melancholy feeling unsure in your bones not knowing what it was the future held you were moving towards, what family and love was to soon look like. Only, then it was a dress grazing along the grass as it blew as well and the company some degree behind you was vast and irritating.

What too was different, was who approached you. Trapped within the clutches of that day you recalled, was the graceful beauty of Queen Cersei approaching you in your silence standing by the running water as the noise faded into the distance. Not with words yet did she make her presence known, but you felt her there all the same. Her blonde hair loose much like yours now, the long length you, back in such a memory, had long since given up having again.

Yours now was such a length as hers, but then you had half less then her in frustration. She had always insisted you have proper handmaidens from your first day in Kings Landing, and you by fourteen had cut your hair short in a ladies standards to avoid them fussing over it everyday. It was longer then even Jons long curls now but still was quite short in terms of what a highborn lady normally looked. Her dress too, always impeccable. Never did you see such a Queen in your reflection which sat so naturally on her.

No matter how much now you would wish for nothing more then to see Cersei Lannister as far from the Iron Throne as possible, she no doubt looked the most like a true Queen should then any attempt you could make in your life. She had been pregnant with Myrcella by the time you first met her at the feast on Dragonstone, and even then she was beautiful. Standing next to her at that river side however, it was not one highborn lady against another.

You had long since then learned when Cersei spoke with manipulation, but it was a raw honesty she had finally let out only when she was sure no one else was near to listen.

She once held affection for you when you were a girl, and only sometimes by then did she still have enough humanity to let it out when no one was looking.

Strangely enough, she echoed something similar to what Renly had said to you not long before you departed for the Kingsroad. “Most girls don't look quite so grim before their wedding.” You didn't answer, and luckily, she took no offence to it.

Cersei it seemed, saw such raw nerves within you, or the hiding of something unknown and recognized what almost, seemed like a vision of herself in another time. Biting your tongue, you thought not of the face you were losing but the unknown of what having what you had with him, would be like with his brother. A small tilt of your head to the side indicated your uncertainty on the matter.

Taking another step closer, finally you could sense her gaze towards you but you were unwilling to look away from the waving waters rushing by. “If it is the bedding you are worried about-”

“It isn't, your grace.” That was a lie, but you would have rather not gotten into that discussion now or ever with her. “I've known Robb Stark many years, what I will be getting myself into shouldn't be much of a mystery as a whole, I suppose.”

Glancing to her, there was a sadness you had recognized from many years before even that day. One as a girl of fourteen in her chambers being told a heavy truth, realizing that was not the end of what she had to say. “Never expect the men in your life to treat you with any form of goodness, and it will never be able to disappoint you when they become far worse.”

Yet the image did not match what you knew, outside of the love you then were too scared to admit, Robb was as perfect of a match as a highborn girl just like yourself could dream for. Still though, you had found yourself giving into her perspective just a little, if not from the nerves running inside you. “I am aware of what is expected of me, your grace. Do what makes my husband happy, and that should be enough for most men.”

Her huff was not a laugh but perhaps something more sinister in perspective of her own marriage. “Trust me, my dove, that will never be enough for any man. You will give every part of yourself to him, and it one day will be too little. Your bed grows colder and colder until you no longer sleep in the same as him, and when he finds himself with a new, younger woman to play with, you will have no choice but to pretend it is not happening and that you are still enough.”

Attempting to interject, it did not fall on deaf ears, but perhaps biased ones. “Robb is not a man who would-”

“All of them are. Make no mistake.” Finally your eyes met as you turned more to face her, as much malice was painted behind hers there was also something wishing to provide a proper comfort which she did not think existed. “Learn that early, and you will never be disappointed when they betray you. You will do your duty, but once he does not need you anymore, don't waste your life trying to force it to be as it once was. A wife will never convince her husband to return to her once he's taken a whore into bed behind your back.”

All in the high court knew too well the degree of Robert Baratheons infidelity, and it made not a soul comfortable with the fact of how brazen he was with it. More of a strained whisper, you could not match such images from Robert to Robb. “He would still expect me to..”

“Birth him children, and you will be surprised what little he shall expect of you afterwards. In the rare event Robert leaves his whores long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning he doesn't remember.”

No, you thought again. None of that fit, that was not Robb. You knew without a doubt that was not the Robb you knew. If it was only fear she meant to instill however, why looking at Cersei did you then feel something a wave of doubt in your own sense of self. You knew you looked nothing near her beauty, and if she could not keep her husband interested in someone who looks as alluring as she, perhaps it was not out of the realm of possibility.

But again, you had known Robb for years. “This isn't the same, I've known Robb since I was a girl. You've always hated Robert-”

If it was honesty you did not expect, it was honest you got in a very suddenly raw display of genuity in her eyes. “Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath.” Glancing out to the river now, lost in a memory of her own you could see bright in her eyes. “And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life.” But as her eyes met yours, so did the memory of false hope fade within her. “Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear Lyanna.”

Instantly you looked away. Face falling into a twisting conflict, knowing one story and another but there was little you could say to make that alright. Lyanna Stark was dead, but on that night Cersei Lannister was a living girl, now his wife, and Robert refused to love her more then the one who was never coming back. Not something you imagined then, or now, would be easy to feel.

It was the thing you refused to let Jon think in comparison to Robb, but Robert let Cersei feel it in comparison to Lyanna. None of it was fair, but it was what she said next that was on your mind in the cold present. “Do you remember what I told you when you were a girl? The morning your red flower had bloomed?”

You hesitated, but nodded yes.

Cersei if anything, spoke with something even more honest behind her attempts to hide it. “Never forget that. If it weren't for my children, I'd have thrown myself from the highest window in the Red Keep long ago. They're the reason I'm alive. It isn't much, but yours may be the only happiness you'll be able to find, as mine are.”

Truth be told, you knew she must have been quite willing to be honest if not for a second did she say anything against it when it slipped out. “Even Joffery?”

But she almost only smiled knowingly. “Even Joffery. He was all I had once. Before Myrcella was born. I used to spend hours looking at him. His wisps of hair. His tiny little hands and feet. You always hear the terrible ones were terrible babies, but it's nonsense. Whenever he was with me, he was happy. And no one can take that away from me, not even Joffery. How it feels to have someone of your own.”

Did you have that? Had you ever? Past or present you struggled to see if you ever truly found that as the fog continued to fade so much away from your mind. In the memory, you had barley found the strength to respond, “It cannot be impossible to find some medium, your grace. Somewhere in between the best and worst, to just have a family I may be content with.”

“But it is, my dove. Women such as us do not have a choice. We either claw our way to the top, or die at the very bottom. We don't get to have a middle ground.”

She had left you alone by the water then, the next day you would all set out to make the remaining two days to Winterfell and find out if what she warned had been the truth or not. But as you stood in the cold air in the present, your mind felt far away still, and you had not yet thought you figured it out.

Little Eddard had woken up before the rest, and you had brought him far from the significant amount of hearing space from the campsite to settle him. Cries more muffled as you held the warm bundle close to your front to take all of the cold wind away from his exposed skin, and yet you had somehow found yourself drifting to that day by the water when he was finally calming.

Cersei was not a stupid woman, she knew to Joffery she was lesser in his eyes, but she loved him anyways. Held onto that love because he was hers, and not even he could take that away from her, but as you stood there it felt worse and worse. The fear that Eddard was yours yes, you needed him, but he did not want you. He was supposed to be the thing you held onto that would keep you even a small bit happy, but what if your son was different?

What if he was never happy with you? Already a festering fear dripped into your bloodstream whispering poison that you would never be the same for Jon again. You reached the point Cersei spoke of. You gave him one, and perhaps this was it. You would give him more and nothing else mattered about you to him. A woman like Cersei was beautiful, you were not. You could not even offer Jon that much.

The girl, Daisy, she had been fearful to be honest with you. Admitting that her instructions from Petyr Baelish included securing one of her girls in the brothel to seducing the King in the North for means of sabotaging you both before marriage. But you had not feared it then, knowing there was guilt on her for ever once considering needing to do it. You were not insecure when you had jested to her that marrying the day he and you returned likely ruined that plan.

But you were now. It would be weeks before he could even take you the way he'd want too, and you knew Jon enjoyed his freedom to be physical with you. You hated it, you never compared Robb to Robert but now something inside of you was falling into Cersei's trap and fearing that it was Jon who would cast you aside.

He didn't deserve to be questioned, you didn't even mean it maliciously. You felt as opposite of alluring as you could ever possibly be, Jon would not be to blame if he sought someone smaller and prettier then you for his pleasure instead. You'd give him as many children as he wanted without question, but maybe you had lied to yourself into thinking you were the exception here.

A happy family, a husband and son that you loved and loved you. But if Cersei was right, you were only lying to yourself, and it would only cause Jon and now little Eddard to feel smothered by your attempts to try and keep them to yourself.

The previous night may as well not existed, whatever laughs and smiles was shared between your new family of your making, did not exist. Maybe you imagined it, or Jon was only humouring you because he still had to put up with dragging you home for days. But you shouldn't complain. This was what you were born to do.

Marry a man and have his children. That was your duty. You didn't have the right to want more from Jon then what he's already done for you.

The sudden feeling however of arms slinking around your person, one to your hip and the other gentler across your front and tugging you back just slightly almost had you jump in place. A deep murmur rasping in your ear with a just as gentle chuckle to follow, “Didn't mean to scare you.” Muttering passingly it was fine, Jon leaned over your shoulder a bit to properly see the little one. “Everything alright?”

Nodding, you could only hope your whisper was not as obviously unsettled as was the beginnings of racing returning to your heart. “He woke up a little fussy. Brought him over here so he didn't wake you all.” Almost turning to look, Jons grip on your hip tightened to keep you in place as he assured you so far only you five were awake. “Five?”

Feeling his head nod somewhat in the distance to just outside your immediate view, you could see Ghost and Summer both clearly stalking around the distant forest in hunting demeanour. A small babble coming from the bundle, you shifted so the baby could more easily look around. Jon pulling his hand from your front to tug a glove off with his teeth, stashing it to his side before reaching back around. His hand gentle as it ran across the top of his head, and the babble turned into a louder sound.

Just as nonsensical but a little brighter as did his eyes open more from his drowsy state. You could practically feel Jons smile without needing to see it when you felt the hesitation in you, fighting with the logic and ultimately the question slipped out more uncertain about which answer you'd rather receive then you liked. “Did you want to take him?”

If he picked up on it yet, he didn't say anything. Just a shake of his head before rasping out, “No, we're all fine right here.” Once more, if your silence in response was awkward you did not know if he noticed or chose not to speak on it. Just a tight lipped single nod, before finding yourself no longer able to relax, as if you had been relaxed before.

Jon wasn't touching you as if he didn't want to, but you also knew you were mostly hidden away and would be until you were within at least four walls. You'd have something figured out by then, what to do about it. Desperate in hope you would be able to spot his dwindling interest and you'd be smart enough to find a way to keep just a scrap of it a little while longer.

“How much longer until we reach the Wall?”

Glancing over only long enough to spot Meera by Bran and Jon as she asked the question, you quickly turned back. Stone facing your gaze to something more passive in case they caught it. Your eyes only narrowed for only a moment until they turned somewhat playful. A smirk forming over that did not help the look in Eddards. You knew that mischievous look far too well, present in some form or another in all Starks.

Sighing deeply, you let your fingertips run along his sides as you leaned in with a gentle whisper, a scolding tone not serious enough to be picked up on. “Oh, so now that you're clean you've decided now is the time to start being silly?” He was so small still, it had only been a few days but it was noticeable everytime you cleaned him.

As best he could making almost what you could describe as rather grabby hands, you shifted so one hand pulled the loose strands of your hair more behind your back as he once more almost giggled. For something so small and young, already he was chalk full of personality. You wished you had proper clothes to dress him in. Only using what of yours and Jons you both could readily spare, wrapped up more in fabrics and furs around to keep him extra warm but you hated not having things for him.

Pulling him up finally and resting him high on your torso, whatever lightness was on your face suddenly left as you turned back. Jon kneeling down securing his pack as he smiled at whatever he and Bran were talking about. Benjen and Meera both seemingly familiar with one another to some degree discussing something which looked as if it were about the area. Ghost and Summer both similarly sticking by one another close to Jon and Bran.

The only one who was not quite fitting in with the group however was not you alone. Instead, you could see the unreadable stare of Yara watching you from where she was covering up the embers of the fire. Hardly brave enough to hold her gaze in case she said something, you didn't want to start a confrontation with your son in your arms. Biting your tongue you tugged the furs a little more over Eddards head before looking away.

Inhaling deeply, you moved to pretend as if you belonged in this trio of pairs which had no room for you. Glancing up from Bran you could see Jons silent gaze ask once more if you were alright, the tight smile you gave which lasted hardly half of a second as your eyes tore away from him, meant you missed the look he gave in return. Lips parted slightly as if wishing to say something, but swallowing rough as the rest of his face twisted into a frown, no longer engaging quite the same with Bran.

Jon had to leave much of your things behind when you were taken, unable to carry two packs and a baby. He tried to bring what he could of yours, but you had nothing to carry if not the baby. Not even the furs on your front, now being used to keep him wrapped and warm since Jon had to make use of what you left behind. The cloak Benjen tore from the dead for you to wear was still all you really had to fight the wind outside the long sleeved layers over you otherwise. So you had nothing to prepare to leave but the baby in your arms, as everyone else worked to leave.

Not a clue you had, that you looked extremely lost and disconnected as you stood in the camp sight without finding anyone to go close to in any capacity. You felt it, but you thought you were discreetly more to the side then you were. But no, you stood out greatly to multiple eyes who unbeknownst to you, could see something was wrong.

It had been for days and it wasn't getting any better.

New mothers were supposed to be filled with joy, and you felt love and a bonding with Eddard but your insides felt hollow. As if what you were giving him was the remainder of your emotional capacity, it was not terribly unlike when you returned from death. Not as torturous and grieving, but the same emptiness in your heart like something in you was left behind.

When the thought came into your head, you didn't know, but all you could tell was that it hadn't left in hours. The thought, the realization that Ramsay was right. Birthing a son was your only use, and once you fulfilled that, you were useless and worthless to the world. Not at all aware as well, of how worried you had begun making Jon since you all set out that morning.

He had come up to you with a bright worry in his eyes, asking low with a hand at your cheek if you were really alright and you had barley muttered with not much energy, “It's fine, let's just go.” Your eyes avoiding his the whole sentence. Jon tilted his head trying to glance around but found too many people trying to watch. Instead guiding you with a hand at your lower back to begin moving, muttering into your ear to tell him if you need help or want a break from carrying him.

You hadn't even let him help you wrap the baby up and around your front to carry with ease, which he had done every time without second thought. Jon certainly noticed that as well. Too he wondered, if he didn't even hand you food would you even eat of your own free will? You knew you had to beacuse of the baby, but you didn't even look like you wanted to eat or drink anything. You barley were focused if not just on the baby, and the small moments of joy you had were less and less and more Jon found something with a pain behind your steeled expression.

It frustrated Jon, he didn't have any real privacy out here. When it was you, him and Ghost alone, that was nothing but privacy. But now, Jon couldn't have any time with you that wasn't with at least one pair of eyes watching. Yaras voice came from his left, her own eyes trained forward on your figure moving closer to Meera, Bran, and Benjen but not close enough to be part of any conversation. “I told you this would happen.”

Low and rough, Jons face twisted rather quickly into anger. “I know my wife better then you do.”

He despised the dismissive and snarkish manner she threw back with. “Let me guess. You're different, you aren't like most men, what you two have is special and she knows it.” It sounded pathetic the rude manner she phrased it, but that didn't make it all false, he knew what you had was different but he let her keep speaking. “Trust me, Stark. You're not different. None of you men are. She knows eventually one day you'll get tired of her, and start choosing to get any run of the mill whore to suck your cock instead of her.”

Reaching out, Jon forced her to stop as he twisted her to face him in an instant. Face and eyes radiating with anger that hissed out in his low tone to not draw attention. “You have no idea what you're talking about.” Questioning if she didn't, Jon felt his muscles urging to twitch and lash out with the feeling knowing there was no where for the tension in them to actually go. “She's the only woman I've ever loved, ever been with-”

“Is she the only woman you've ever fucked, Stark?”

Something unwell churned in his stomach at the question, and yet the manner which his lack of response was taken, was in the worst way possible. The one which he knew gave her an image that wasn't anywhere near the truth. He would've been able to confidently say yes if it weren't for Ygritte, and now the image he just gave Yara was Jon had been unfaithful to you.

A condescending smirk came over her face, “I told you. All the same. You're pretty wife over there knows it'll happen again, it always does. If you really love her, try and at least pretend you'll be loyal to her until you can get her help. Bad things happen when you let newborn mothers become this way.” Asking what, Yara's smirk fell into something serious and dark which Jon already figured out the answer to as she spoke slowly. “Bad things. If you want my advice Stark, maybe start carrying the baby yourself. Protect your son from her, if you don't really care enough to help her.”

Trying to walk way, Jon yanked her back aggressively. That time, not caring that her protest caught the attention of everyone else. Still speaking low, “And you're what? An expert on protecting your family?” Sharply mentioning he was the one who killed Victarion he cut in, “We both know who I'm talking about. So don't stand there and talk down to me about protecting the people you love.”

Nearly shoving passed her, his shoulder running into hers, he cared not about looking back. Ignoring the stares from the rest, Benjen motioned to keep going. Reading quick into Jons lack of willingness to even partially explain whatever it was just occurred. Instead, coming up to you, Jon turned you back to go forward and pulled you into his side as must as he could without jostling you and the baby.

Letting his hand at your lower back rise up to your hip and waist he tried to run up and down as soothing as he could. Your voice gentle trying to murmur to him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jon knew he wouldn't be able to guess which way you would take it, but he said it anyways with the only truth he had. Not letting you stray from his touch again. “No. I just wish I could have you to myself right now. Both of you.” But when you gently asked again for his sake if he wanted to take Eddard for a while, Jon almost paused in his step.

If he took him right now, Jon knew it meant he was worried he didn't trust you, but your bright eyes looking up at him with that same softness Jons always been addicted too, he felt not a distrustful bone in his body towards you. Pulling your head only close enough to press a kiss to as he muttered by your ear, “He likes being carried by you more then me.”

Brows narrowing, with almost a light protest you shook your head slightly at him. “That's not true, Jon.”

“No?” Another kiss, tugging you closer into his side. “Next time we all stop, we'll test that, alright?” Your head jolted back a bit in what was the closest to amusement you had in a huff all day thus far, but you agreed with a nod. No he too thought, Yara had not a clue what you both were. Jon just needed to remind you of that too. The last thing he wanted was for you to fear he'd ever betray you like that, or even have eyes for a woman not you.

The men in your family did not provide a stable history of mens loyalty to their wives, Jon knew. So he needed to remind you that you were also his family. And now more then ever did Jon know, the men in his family were indeed loyal to those they were promised too.

Jon couldn't afford to let you get worse out here, he needed to get you home where you all belonged in order to properly give you the love you needed reminding was permanent. You were a drug to Jon, and one which it's potency would never lessen in any strength no matter how much he stayed with it.

Nights were easier, you weren't sure why. But they were.

Sitting by where Bran had comfortably propped up against for the evening close to the fire, he seemed always eager to have a chance at being allowed to just hold his nephew. Both of you speaking low, but the fog always in your head still seemed to clear more as the sun went down. You tried not to think how much Jon was incapable of looking away from you where he stood to the side of the small camp site with Benjen.

“It'll be easier to explain, or show you when we get to Winterfell. I promise, it's not that simple to put into words.”

Nodding with a small smile, you let your hand drift to mindlessly pull up the layers covering the baby, pulling a subsequent laugh from Bran. “What?”

As much as had tormented both of you for years, something inside you felt utterly relieved that you still could look at Bran and see the boy come out easily. His eyes had not let lost the light so much harm had stolen from many. “It's new, seeing you this way.” Mentioning he had been old enough to see you with Rickon as a baby, it was not unlike if someone would bring Shireen up to you. It went unspoken, but no blame came from his side when he switched his focus back to his original point. “Seeing you help with my brother isn't the same as seeing you as a mother.”

Your mindlessly gentle touches to the settled Eddard only stopped long enough for a noise to erupt from him as it to ask you to continue to run your hand over the top of his head. A smile brought out of you in an instant with a breath of a laugh. “It's odd being one. For a long time I thought I lost my only chance.” Bran protesting that he didn't mean it was odd, but you again laughed, albeit a little less meeting your eyes that time. “I know you didn't. But it doesn't make that false.”

Meeting his young gaze, yours softened away any duress in your own eyes. It was easy with Bran, no matter what had changed he was still the sweet boy you've known his whole life. Inhaling deeply, Bran looked up to Jon. You couldn't see, but the brothers both met eyes and Bran could not help but try and convey a lot to the blatant worry on Jons. Benjen too picked it up, purposely pulling Jon back to the conversation at hand, despite how often he kept looking over.

You took no notice, the smile on your lips growing as the baby tried to loosen his swaddle to grab at your hand. You had to fix the fur around him to keep him contained, but allowed him to grab at your hand, or moreso the only finger he could even pretend to grasp properly without looking away from eyes that looked so close to yours and Jons both.

What came out next however, was nothing close to the thoughts in which occupied your head beforehand. “You were the one in my dreams- visions, whatever we're calling them. But early on I'd see a boy almost watching whatever was happening trying to speak to me but when I came back I could never remember them.” He hadn't said anything, and so you prompted him properly. “Why?”

Opening his mouth, as if no time passed you dryly continued, “And don't say anything purposely cryptic like I was not in the right mind to accept it was you.”

Trying to withhold a small laugh himself, Bran looked away before meeting your eyes finding only a patience unlike the judgment which he seemed to have been expecting. More then once he seemed to attempt find the right words before settling on a quiet tone not meeting your gaze once more. “I didn't know I was doing it at first. I was trying to see if I could find anyone. Like the way Jojen found me in my dreams, I didn't know it would be so strong trying it with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you dared not imagine the charred black bones as you looked down to the baby. “That night..the dragon..the Targaryean girl. It felt like I was in someone elses head.”

“You were.” Meeting his eyes, Bran back tracked a little. “I told you, it's not easy to explain. I have to show you for you to understand.” Asking if that included what happened to cause him to come find you and Jon, Bran looked as if a grieving sorrow too hit him. “We all need to get to Winterfell first. He can't find us there.”

Hesitating, you almost weren't sure if you wanted to ask. “What does any of this have to do with Euron Greyjoy?” If Bran was going to answer, it was Yara who spoke up first. Coming up behind suddenly, she stood to your side as she spoke only to crouch down to meet more the height you met Bran at previously.

“He says you have some great power. That he wants you by his side because he's powerful, and you can give him even more.” You didn't want to consider it, how much more and more it was sounding like Euron was mixing with another who sounded much like that. “But the boy is right, you'll be safe in Winterfell. As long as where you are doesn't have a ship port nearby, that's as safe as you can get from my Uncle.”

First it was Brans eyes you met, then down to the babies, but turning to look at her your head continued as you spun around to realize it. What had been kept from you. Who this person was and only did her first name finally click. “You're Theons-”

“Sister.” Finishing for you, you nearly plucked the baby from Brans arms and moved away from her, but all of you stayed right where you were as she confessed, and in a rather honest almost guilty tone it appeared. “He sent us to take you to him, and then he sent his own men to finish the job hoping your King in the North back there would kill us first.”

It came much more out like distrust, but everything Ramsay had done to Theon and they never came for him. He had to risk his own life to run with you to escape when he had the Iron Islands which should have protected him. “Why would Euron hope for that?”

Turning, Yara sat not quite by Bran but on the wood serving as the seat propping his torso up comfortably. Elbows resting on her knees as her hands clasped together, face twisting as she debated words in her head trying to say them out loud for what seemed to be the first time. “You know what a Kingsmoot is?” Nodding your head yes, she ignored any of Brans reaction much to your dismay. “Well, I almost won it. Then Euron showed up, made a number of terrifying threats and promises and he knows if I didn't serve him then I'd oppose him. So, likely he expected the hot head over there to murder me and my uncle before we killed him.”

Breathless as your heart begun to pick up, you asked with wider eyes, “How did he know where to tell you to find us?” When she said he gave specific geographical directions, you felt no better. No, you felt a wave of dizzy rush through you as that racing heart turned to a painful pounding. Too much was going on around you now, everything was closing in on the North one way or another and you felt prepared for none of it.

Pushing up suddenly, that dizzy feeling suddenly waved over you like none other. Disorienting you as you could see him in your mind perfectly, but none of it made sense. Without any acknowledgement of other voices, you found yourself walking off into a direction without care of what was behind you. You needed air, you needed silence and you needed the cold to sting your lungs as you found yourself in a middle spot of nowhere only surrounded by trees.

Nothing illuminated your sights but the moon in the sky reflecting against the snow, but the remainder of the world spun. Eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, you crouched down to the ground squeezing them shut purposely to block out everything else trying to gain your focus. Bran, Euron, Bloodraven, crows and the sight it all spun a tale which you had no right being in and yet the reason most of this group were here was beacuse of you.

This wasn't what you wanted, returning back to the living you never wanted to be the centre of a single thing. Everyone else had a part to play so much more important, but yet here you were. Spinning in your mind, why would this all connect, how did you fall into the middle of it? Your visions and dreams once you saw Bran, then a crow and a raven and you knew one but not the other. The stranger- Euron, never spoke of a boy at all as if he didn't know about him.

Hands covering your face, your exhale was shaking. You had to pull it together, you knew. One thing at a time or else you were threatening to drown yourself. You could not afford to care what Euron wanted with you, not now. Rising your head from your palms, you ignored the sensation of watering possibly having slid down your face. Trying to steel your expression with each attempt of a deep breathe.

What was right in front of you? The answer was simple. He wanted you, not any else. Send men to take you, sent men to kill Jon, and you had no doubt were he to find you all know, he'd kill the baby too. So the solution was simple. Forget the rest plaguing your mind, get south of the Wall, get to Winterfell. Whatever he wanted with you, he couldn't go through them to do so.

Pushing up to your feet, wiping the remainder of tears away as the panic left your heart, the feeling creeping at the back of your neck rose up, only this time you had no weapon to brandish and the approaching figure remained a foot or two out of reach to prevent if you had. Eyes wide as you looked over Benjen, as he did with more of a narrow eyes concern as you let the nerves inside deflate a little bit.

“Jon seems to think you're rather good at running off out of nowhere.”

Inhaling a bit, the words heavy in your throat to push down the residual panic into something a bit strained but far more controlled. “Consider it the result of spending most of your life always doing what you were told.” Approaching more, your eyes glanced around behind him, none had followed.

Benjen picked up on it with ease. “I told the others to stay put. The last thing an emotional person needs is to be surrounded with other equally as emotional people.” Glancing away, your eyes almost rolling up a bit to indicate you understood his position. Wrapping your arms around yourself under the cloak you stood waiting for him to speak again. “I know this is all overwhelming.”

Raising an eyebrow without looking to him, you were rather dry about it. “Do you?”

Nodding, he breached the gap properly. Tone low without the return of attitude your exhausted state gave him. “For years, I thought I was the only one out here trying to figure this all out. Years, I thought that. Been all over the place, and everytime I learned something new I thought it couldn't get any more overwhelming. But it did.” Glancing up properly, your eyes did not paint as off putting a presence as your body language surely spoke. “And on top of all that, the family I never thought I'd see again, dead. Almost all of them dead. I thought I left everyone behind to save them, and they died before I could learn how to protect them from something they didn't even know was coming.”

For a moment, only a moment did you see it. The face, the eyes, the low tones serious but not mean. The only sibling he had left, and he only died months after parting ways. Blinking the remainder of the dizzy feeling away, you almost begun to look down more towards the ground in guilt. “It..it's almost strange. Like nothing has ever been right after the Lannisters took his head.”

Neither needed say who you were speaking of. But Benjen's brows furrowed as he looked down, hiding whatever he wished to keep internal, but you continued. “Your family should have all been together, handle this without having lost one another but it feels as if there's so few left we're all just scattered trying to fight what's too big for so few people.”

“How do you think the Nights Watch has felt for a long time?” A huff of a laugh came first from you, then stronger from him. “Do you remember why Bran and Meera went to find Jon and I went looking for you, instead of my nephew?” Shaking your head, Benjens answer as as passive sounding as it was unexpected. “The same thing Jon was scared of. What happened to Lyanna happening to you.” Asking gently what he was getting at, Benjen paused. Worried in your mind you came off as rude, but again he only laughed. “What?”

“I can see why my brother always wanted to keep you around, he never liked when people beat around the bush either.” The smile gracing your features was faint, but there. Such a thing was true, serving as Ned Starks ward for half of your life had certainly proven beneficial, when he needn't train you to prepare how he approached the world. “Everything closed in on my sister by the end because one mad man decided to make his grand vision all based around taking her for himself. You don't have to like that Eurons made this about you, but you have to understand it from our point of view. Each time you pull away, you're making the rest of us worry if we're about to watch it happen all over again. And I don't think Jon could handle losing you now.”

Benjen waited patiently for you to let such details sink into your mind. Not noticing the approaching footsteps somewhat in the distance behind him as your hand came up to nervously tap your nails at your lip for a moment trying to consider your words. Sometimes you hardly noticed, how easily you found yourself slipping back into the words as if he were right there. “When I married Robb, Lord Stark told me that I was one of you now, and the Starks all protect each other.” Benjen nodded but let you come to it on your own. “I suppose that hadn't quite kicked in yet, in my mind. That loyalty to your family means something very different then it did in mine.”

“You and Jon came out here to risk your lives to protect your people, so let the rest of us pay that back by protecting you. Where none of us had the chance to protect her. I'm not saying what you've been through is easy, but it'll be far easier to just let other people protect you instead of worrying it makes you selfish.”

The voice from the distance however, was a little less comforting as it cut through the end of Benjens statement. “She's pretty bad at that.” Not quite light enough you could read Jons eyes from where you stood, but he seemed to have been leaning against the tree behind his uncle for some time. Arms crossed as his muscles seemed loose as if having stood back calm for a while. Making eye contact with his uncle, something unreadable passed. “I want a moment alone with her.”

Just as the Starks were though, they knew when to be serious and when the tense air required a reprieve. “You're King now, no arguing with a King.” Jon mustering only half a smirk as the two wolves passed the other. A hand braced on Jons shoulder, one wide eyed looking to his uncle as something either unspoken was shared or just that you could not hear.

It was not until Benjens footsteps finally crossed the barrier of audible when Jon slowly made his way over to you. Instead though of whatever he may have come to say at first, he seemed to have changed his mind as he got within merely a few feet. Holding a hand out to beckon you to come closer to him, the moment you slowly rose it to grasp his, Jon wasted not a second more pulling you firmly into his front.

Your arms wrapped around him almost faster then his could yours. A hand bracing against the back of your head to hide you within his neck as he leaned down to rest against your head with the side of his. A gentle rasp in your ear passing as he felt you holding back, “I want you to listen to me when I say this. You're an idiot.”

The laugh that burst from you pulled a big grin from Jon you could feel in your hair. A shaking voice no longer with a shred of devastation which seemed so inevitable earlier. “Thanks, Snow. Really making a girl feel special.”

Chuckling deep, Jon pulled you closer into his front more to keep you shielded from the rest of the empty forest around. “I've never met anyone as good at deluding herself into thinking no one wants her then you are.”

“I have a knack for it.”

Pulling back enough, Jon let a hand leave your hair to tilt you up by your cheek to meet his bright eyes shining down to you. “I know none of this is easy for you. All your life you were told this is why you're here and now that you've actually done that, all those horrible people whispering in your ear have lied to you enough it's manipulated you into believing it.”

A gentle whisper as your hands drifted to rest along the fur against his torso. “I know you love me, I do-”

The hand on your cheek drifted, running through the loose strands by the side of your head. “But something inside of you keeps lying to you and saying I don't. Yara and Meera both said their mothers went through something like this.” Brows narrowing in confusion, Jon was as gentle with his words as he was keeping you close to him without care. “After they gave birth, they said something in their mothers was wrong. They weren't themselves, always sad, they didn't think they were good enough. Neither know if it even has a name, but this isn't you. Everything pushing you away isn't really you. Whatever your worrying I think, it's not true.”

Biting your tongue, there was not a hint of a lie or facade anywhere in Jons eyes. Nothing but a love that could crush you if you let it, which sometimes, you wondered if such an option was the right one in fact. Fingertips toying with the material under them as if to distract, you forced the words to put themselves together. “I never meant for you to feel like I didn't trust you, or doubted you or how you feel. But after everything..it started to feel impossible to forget what everyone would tell me growing up.”

Cupping both your cheeks, Jon drew you up closer as he leaned down to nudge his nose gently against yours. “You brought me back to life, darling. If either of us is stuck with the other, you're the one stuck me with me.”

A skip in your heart followed with a beat passing before you found any words, not eyes closed feeling so warm close to him. “I'm sorry I was-”

Muttering close enough you felt his breath dance across your skin as he continued to brush your noses against one another. “Stop being sorry for things, for once in your life. Alright?” Only a hint of a smile was felt so close to you, but your nod was enough, just for now. Everything had fallen apart in hours only days ago, but you knew you never gave yourself a chance to process a second of it.

Of almost truly losing them, and them losing you. The world kept testing you, and thus far Jon and yourself have stayed in the others arms despite being tore apart too many times to count, this was just another one of those times. With more unnatural variables thrown in the mixture, but if you thought about it, death had already fallen upon both of you. What else could possible top that by now?

Leaning without any more patience, Jon for what you think was the first time since being torn apart, pressed his lips properly to yours without anything to hold back. Your hands moving to wrap around his shoulders and back of his neck, Jons grip on your cheeks and jaw was firm and unrelenting as guided your lips to follow along the demands of his soft ones.

Gentle as each single kiss did Jon deepen it only just the slightest. Easing you back into his touch, and moving to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed to his lips and the other wrapping around your back to pull your front close to his. Brushing his tongue along your bottom lip, you parted right away, his tongue gliding into your mouth to let his tongue taste along yours. Yet it never felt between you as if he was demanding what you couldn't give.

Almost prompting you to explore him the way he loved doing to you, and patient as you were shyer and more hesitant of being so brazen with your own kiss. Breath leaving your lungs but you did not wish to say anything, not being prepared to feel anything but such soft lips against yours.

One kiss, then another, then one deeper one before the issue was far more Jon unable to pull away from your lips then anything else. Tearing himself from you, your lungs almost begging for air as the strands of saliva between you barley snapped before he turned your head down to leave a more firm kiss to your forehead. Resting his against yours, Jon only pulled you comfortably into his front, as you arms held him as tight as he held you tenderly.

Rasping roughly, his warm breathe meeting your skin as he spoke. “This is what we're going to do. Until I get you home, all that matters if you and the baby. Everything that's happened, even Euron, none of that matters as long as you're out here. We get you and our son home, make sure you're alright, and only then do we start thinking about the rest of it.”

Nodding, you leaned up, wrapping your hands more around the back of his neck, as Jon returned your kiss with as much deepening passion as it could take to steal your breathe once more for himself. Hardly able to pull away enough to speak it, “I love you.”

Jon smiled partially into the kiss, his lips harsh and firm before pulling back again to look at you. Grey eyes bright as his smile. “I love you.” Only a moment passed before in a much lighter tone did Jon trail off into something more on the air of amused. “I don't want to be pushy, darling, but unfortunately for you, our son has my appetite.”

Eyes shining bright towards his, you muttered, “Oh I am well aware of that.”

Jon knew he'd need to keep an eye on you the next number of days until he got you home, but at this point, he knew being overprotective of you was second nature for him. It did strike both of you though, looking up to him from the side as he guided you back asking, “What are we going to tell everyone when we return after six months with a newborn?”

Pulling you more into his side, Jon muttered into your ear, grinning as you breathed out a flustered laugh in response. “I think they're all well aware of how often I interrupt my day to sink deep inside of you. They'll put it together.” You were beginning to think flustering you was Jons preferred past time by now.

“Are you purposely being stubborn?”

Raising your eyes up to look at Jon, you widened them only to make eye contact with the baby, leaning in with an exaggerated whisper towards him, “Now that could be been directed at either of us.”

Shaking his head with a concealed smirk dancing still in his eyes, Jon came to your side. A hand pulling your head closer to his lips to press against you, muttering with an amusement both of you were aware you'd pick up on. “If he's anywhere near as stubborn as you, I'm going to have my work cut out for me.” A laugh left you, trying to go back to little Eddard not wishing to cooperate with being swaddled once more after being brought to the side of the camp to clean. The hand of Jons not lingering on your spine reached over, gloved fingertips almost dancing playfully across his torso as the baby almost moved too much in his little laughter.

Learning your head somewhat towards Jon from the side you muttered, “You are not helping the matter, you know.” Instead of replying, Jon crouched down to be able to see the baby more at his eye level, leaning forward as he pulled his hand away only long enough to pull his glove off. Running his hand over his head gently as you realized he was distracting him for your ease.

Moving quickly with your own work, Jon leaned in to further keep the babys attention. “We both love you, but stop making things difficult on your mother. She does that enough by herself.” You didn't look up to notice if Jon spotted your barley hidden smirk, but he let himself have a much brighter one, only growing tenfold as he caught his sons gaze again. Leaning forward more to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, it gave you just the right amount of time to capture the babys waving arms to finally keep him nice and warm as you wrapped the fur once yours around him properly as his usual final bundling layer.

“Thank you.” Jon, only moved to then close the gap between his lips and yours. Cupping the back of your neck with but a firm kiss together, hardly getting anywhere as suddenly a sound almost like a protest came from the baby. If such a small, so very young newborn could frown just like Jon, the baby was managing it. “Come here, silly boy.”

Picking the bundle up, you kept him close to your front as Jon helped you stand. Muttering lowly with his free hand running along the where his back would be if not hidden by so many layers. “He's fighting me for your attention, I'm telling you.”

Rolling your eyes jestingly, you only gazed back up at him with something softer then the days before. Bright was his eyes but so were yours, somewhat asking for something you weren't sure of yet, but Jon was a translator of your needs. Leaning in again to nudge your nose with his as you whispered, “And whose fault would that be? His rather shy mother, or his possessive wolf father.”

The hand on your back slid down to your waist, sneaking under the cloak to pinch at you as you nearly jumped close in his arms as a startle. Adjusting the grip to then pull you closer, he pressed a kiss to the top of the babys head and then grasped your chin, guiding you to meet his once more. And just as it seemed Jon was testing him, as once again little Eddard made a sound as if wanting him to stop. “You need to share her sometimes. I have to put another baby inside her eventually, give you your sister.”

Flustered and wide eyed you looked around. “Jon.” Laughing lightly he pointed out no one was listening when you nodded down to the baby. “He does not need to know these things.”

“He can't understand that yet. We have years before he learns how that all works. Well over a decade if we're going by your standards.” Your mouth fell open, walking directly into the trap he set out as you called his name. The laugh instantly from deep within gave away how easily Jon would set you up for such a reaction.

Moving back towards the main group, Jon clarified, “You sure you're alright with me carrying him in the afternoon?”

Nodding, you had become quite used to the baby being wrapped up and strapped safe to your front, but you also knew two things, you truly wanted to see Jon holding his son as much as possible with your own eyes, and never would you want to carry him alone and never give father and son time together alone. “I'll likely have to feed him twice, you should have him after since he won't be as fussy if he doesn't need to be passed back and forth.”

The area you all had stopped by was for all other aspects, quite calm. The forest pushed right up to the edge of the cliff side. Not tall as the mountains of months before, but enough one with a fear of heights would be woozy next too. The lands moving up an incline from the rooting river paths stemming off of the gorge. A few miles up ahead according to Jon and Benjen both was where the river ended, pooling into a lake just beside the edge of a village.

You remembered most of this area, the villages Jon had led you through the first days into this journey months ago, you had went through a good number of villages that had been abandoned by even the first time Jon had passed through them. It was almost a little bit comforting, no longer feeling entirely reliant on the path of others, you knew it was essentially a straight shot from here to Castle Black. Around an hour if you continue directly forward through the remainder of the forest.

The only reason you had stopped, was to go over the plans of what would happen when getting there right away. Likely it should not have surprised you when Benjen was the first to put forward that regardless of what has occurred out here, for the babys health and yours, Jon should push forward and make the final stretch to Winterfell, and get you to properly be seen by a maester who would be more familiar with complicated childbirth and early born infants then Maester Aemon.

Still only Jon had been the singular one there who knew, and he forced that feeling to be shoved right back down his throat as soon as it came up. But it was for more reason then one, and it was the second he shared with his uncle. “I don't know whose there now, Maester Aemon..he passed.”

Both elder Starks knew the man well in their own ways, and Jon appreciated someone else who would understand even a little bit of the feeling. Brows narrowing on his face, Benjen spoke with a calm but a weight behind that told of much respect. “When was this?”

Trying to consider what Sam had told him when they reunited, the information much more detailed then when it was from a raven passing such information on. “I sent him with Sam, a brother who worked with him, to Oldtown. They stopped at a port in Bravvos and, he was too ill to survive the journey. I don't know who is there now.”

Nodding, Benjen much like Jon kept whatever thoughts he had to himself over the matter. Sticking much to the main facts in front of them. “Well, either way getting them home is more important right now. I imagine a few will be surprised to see me, I'll stay back and catch them all up on certain things and meet you in Winterfell later.”

The knowing look between them rather similar, “Would be easier to explain certain things to everyone the more people they hear it from, likely.”

Walking along closer to the ridge by the rushing river below, it took some getting used to out here when the baby wasn't being carried by you in anyway. To your left sat a thick brush of trees hardly able to be seen through, least of all at the corner of your vision. Eyes trained into the sight across the way, squinting in the colder wind as you begun to kneel down.

Pulling the cloak off, you hauled it in front of you. Using the quiet to simply adjust the pin keeping it open to something a looser now that you'd be taking the baby back to push the final way. You would blame it on one thing or another, but you knew in truth, you had simply let your guard down. But from the dark trees beyond did something you did not expect to be so close creep forward. Neither did you look down to see either what had been climbing its way up, almost in stealth.

As if you were the target much as you had been that day in the Nightfort. Two people in the room and three went for you. With two direwolves up ahead scouting any danger in front, it was what came following behind which was to watch for. This time, there were six of you, but they went for you just the same.

It reached up from where none knew it was there. Only the sound of gravel and small rocks shifting by, you put the cloak down in a moment of curiosity. Cold and strong, it reached from beyond. Surging up with an inhuman sound, grabbing you one hand yanking at your hair and the other to your wrist before both pulled before you could stop it.

Whoever called out to you was heard none as the sudden sounds so close on you took over, your bare hands clawing at the sides of the rocks. Skin tearing in a bloodying pain as you tried to hold on while also trying to knock the wight from your back, but the hand in your hair slammed yours against the same wall.

The thing was, you could not pick up the sounds of those above, only what too followed. One at the rivers edge climbing with a weapon in its mouth, another stalking along the edge coming from the dark trees beyond. The dagger strapped to your ankle was useless as trapped as it had you.

The moment it happened though, who did what was too, the unexpected. A matter of who was closest, it happened to be in fact the one who understood the least about it all. If one had asked why she moved so fast, Yara at the moment wouldn't have had an answer, she just did. Knocking her to the ground from the side, she had but a single moment to recall needing the dagger Jon had given to her.

The wight snatching one wrist, and the other being pushed back by her with a strain fighting against what looked like an intent to claw her eyes out. Thrusting her head up she tried only managed to push it back before finding herself covered in a blood black and thick as she shoved the blade into the neck of the growling creature. Tossing it with a strain to down below only to find herself in the yanking grasp of one coming for you, now with a new target. You were far lower being dragged either down to the one ascending or taken by the one you couldn't even hear the chaos above against.

Sounds overwhelming in your ear did you try to throw your head back to force it off but its grip was tight and already did you feel it tearing into your skin where it had held you. Suddenly being nearly thrown back, you found yourself being snatched by a hand against your more blood covered arm by Yara, too holding on herself. It only fell as back down as somewhat below, yanking you with its grip the moment Yara tried pulling you up.

Jon only just having given the baby to Bran, did he narrowly miss grasping Yaras hand as her grip nearly lost. But in his desperation as the fear arose did he look passed her to the one clawing its way back up to you and another heading for neither him nor Yara but you as well, and you knew it. Strain meeting his gaze with your muscles shaking in pain, only seconds did you three have to come up with a plan.

Only, you felt one of its hands trying to tear at your leg, digging into your knee and reopening the healing wound from the last they had come in a cry in pain. Looking up to Yara, her own hold on you as strained as the one she and Jon struggled to keep. Jon sensed it, knowing exactly what you were about to do. Nearly growling your name out not to, but your faced again twisted as you felt as if your knee was being torn to shreds by its nails sharp as claws clutching on.

“Get him to the Wall,” He tried warning you in name but you shouted more. “Jon, get him to the Wall- please.”

But as Jon you knew saw the panic, you for only a second too found Yaras gaze. Instead though, her grip on you tightened as she gave but a nod. You did not grasp why she wasn't saving herself, but you didn't question it. Jons voice calling to your once more, “I'm not-”

“Yes, you are.” You didn't have the time to assure him, either they got you and it would all be over now, or they all stayed here as more could gather. This could have even been a trap, and Jon knew as well as you did what would happen should they come with the baby out in the open. Three grips let go, yours of what remained clawing at the rocks against your front, Yaras purposely letting go of Jons and him failing to catch hers once she let it go, but with a yell of your name as if faded.

The only grip that did not let go, was hers to yours as without any further doubt did the sudden fall get crash landed roughly with the sting all around of frozen water. Filling your sense as you knew not which way in the running river did you even land.

What was up and down you didn't know only that you found your self free to kick against the wight still ahold of you. Air leaving your lungs as you felt it tear at your skin one last time as it flew as disoriented in the rushing water as you were. Either they would kill you, kill Yara, or more would come and try to kill the others, Jon and even worse, the cold wind may come and take the baby too.

Letting go into the freezing river was a risk, but one which meant certain it gave the others time to go, get to the Wall, get to safety, and that was what mattered. Not the filling of cold in your lungs as the violence of water gave no mercy to those within its stream.

“I'm not leaving her out here,”

Jon could not ascertain if the others were rather calm for what had occurred, or if his senses were burning to such an angering degree that anything lower then the shaking in his very veins had felt like too little of a reaction. Benjen failing to bring him down any level, his words only making Jon feel even worse the longer he stood here. “Jon, listen to me. No one is leaving her behind, but we need to go before more may make their way here.” Not bothering to listen Jon gathering his weapons to him without second thought, Benjen continuing to talk to a wall. “She is giving us a head start, to protect the baby.”

Not looking up, Jon continued to move, strapping Longclaw firmly around him as he nearly growled out against his heart racing. “Then get him to Castle Black, but I'm not leaving her out here.”

Bran was silent as Meera tried her hand next. “You're his father he needs you.”

“And he needs his mother.” And Jon in his heart added that he needed you too. Son and father both needed you and Jon could not fathom getting to Castle Black without you, not knowing if you were alright to even make it back. He didn't leave you behind once he wasn't starting now.

“She's giving you a chance to get your son somewhere safe.” Turning to look at him, being held still by Bran, it was the only thing which gave Jon reason to pause. Closing the gap, Jon knelt down to take Eddard for a moment. Wide green eyes looking up so brightly as if he didn't know his mother was gone all over again, but too in those eyes did Jon see yours.

It wasn't doubt or defeat, but something begging for him to trust you. You had worried so long that you had lost his trust, and now before letting yourself fall into the freezing river to keep the Wights away from them all, he felt a wave of guilt. Eyes closing he stood now carrying the baby free in his arms, he too had promised his son they'd keep you safe. But you were too keeping them safe.

Meeting Brans eyes, he too was asking something with such similar worry as it was trust. “I'll go.” Quietly calling his name, Bran shook his head. “Summer is out there with Ghost. I can go out there, and we'll find her and get her back here. Uncle Benjen and I are his family, but you're his father. He needs you the most.”

Jon disagreed, he and his son needed you the most. But looking at his sons bright eyes, he did not return his grasp. Pulling him close to keep him warm at his front, Jon kept him close enough he could always feel even his breath against his skin for now.

Why did trusting you always have to test the weakest part of Jons need to have you close?

You could say one thing, coughing up water was far less unpleasant then whatever sick would come up at the peak of being with child. Stinging your lungs and as your torn knee sat rough against the rocks, the rest of you braced against the ground as you had pulled yourself up from the shores. Luckily, Yara was no better feet away.

Breath shaking as you looked up, the hint of a village long emptied of people in the distance, and the lake behind you from which the river deposited you, you were right in where it led. Begging your limbs to function, trying to stand only to hiss out as the material against your legs tore at the bleeding skin scratched right open as the wight tried to bring you down to him and his other kind. One foot braced up first, then another, you took far longer then you should've finding your stance upright.

“Where are we?” Head turning to the side, Yara had dragged herself up with less effort, as she walked over to you. Both of you now freezing as you were soaked head to toe.

Looking around, your legs shook trying to withhold buckling from one knee's pain. “One of the villages the Free Folk used to live in.” Asking with a shortness what that was, you inhaled mostly to not react with the same tone only because the past moments were too much for your patience. “The wildlings. Some used to live here, it's only a few hours from Castle Black.”

Coming to your side, her eyes looked over your person as you continued to ignore the pain. “How did you know this was where the river led?”

Glancing only for a beat, you turned back with another hiss the moment you attempted to move. “I've looked at a map before.” Not bothering to witness the glare, you took a step as the pain shooting through your calf up to your knee was as if it would rupture the wrong step. Asking how your leg was, a diminished patience had come out that time with less resolve to keep yourself proper. “Better then ever, Greyjoy.”

The feeling of an arm coming to your side had you side stepping from her as you knelt to one side a bit as your knee screamed at you. Asking what she was doing, it was her turn to look at you if you were the slow one. “Helping you walk, since you can't even stand.”

The glare returned as pretty as before. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

Cocking an eyebrow, the audacity to smirk looking you over once again came over Yara as did a smug tone you had not felt for over a decade. “You look like you're going to fall over the moment you walk six steps.”

You did not move to prove her wrong, and her smirk increased. Cursed you were, looking up to the clouds hiding any sun with your eyes fluttering closed. You were cursed to endure the Greyjoys in every capacity which tested your willingness to cooperate as raised to be. Muttering under your breath, knowing she could hear your eyes narrowed at the nothing you looked at. “I thank you for your help back there, but I can't say I see great appeal in relying on you to walk south east over the course of multiple hours.”

One limb, then another, Yara's speed matched with more of such attitude you despised. “Yes, you're doing so well.” Praise sounded horrid coming from her condescension then it did Jons genuity. In the silence did you bite down on your tongue as the pain grew more as did your shivering, but you walked beside her not willing to see the expression. Her words spoke that for you. “You and him are made for each other, both the most ungrateful cunts I've ever met.”

A burning rose in your veins to lash out, but resisting was what you had to do. You would not yet put it passed Yara to respond to a petty jab by kicking your knee in and leaving you here. Stopping in place you looked over to her, the shivering both still within your bones did not help, but trust did not come easy towards her family. Only one, and you had yet to wonder if she even knew of his fate once being abandoned to the Boltons. But, it was not the time for that either.

Jaw clenched roughly, you nodded as Yara wrapped an arm steady around you, leaning into her side as she could now do the heavier lifting for you each step. “Thank you.”

Yara made it rather easy to regret offering any polite words, raising her voice up to something far beyond a jest into a mocking you knew she could feel you tense towards. “At least you have more manners then your husband. And I thought giving you to Euron would mean you'd be married to an insufferable ass.”

That was meant to rile you up, and it would not be the last to be spat towards you nor the only time you'd withhold any words in return, but for the first little while, you limped and she walked in relative, teeth chattering silence.

Not a weapon left on either of you, you wondered if Yara was aware of the danger quite yet. Whatever she had seen before that evening was fraught compared to what was out here. Jon always ensured to stop before it grew dark, even with the shared weapons both of you could wield. Now was not the same assurance, somewhere no doubt the dragonglass on you both sunk to the bottom of the river, not a bow, nor knife only two women one unable to stand with ease on their own.

“Neither of you are particularly chatty, are you?” Yara read your silence at the bare minimum. Not waiting for a reply, in Greyjoy standards, she could talk to herself at you as long as it entertained her.

Most of any words spoken were short in reply, and if you were to be honest, your dwindling patience was growing more and more within the realm of spiteful irritation that she either did not grasp why you would not have interest in talking to her, or knew and did not care. But it was not your newest injuries alone which were the source of your pain.

No, such a reminder came in the general state you had existed in now for nearly seven days and the hands in which helped such problems fester. The woman nearly dragging you across the snow covered forest had not a clue what had brought you out here in the first place. Not any knowledge of what it took to get there, and what risk it was gaining the information Jon now had to make sense with the rest of it.

You had come out here for the only place left giving you answers, but still the world proved it was far more preoccupied with whatever games for power the people played amongst themselves. Yet worst of all, she and her men, orders or no, had ripped the only happiness you had found in this frozen land and never for a moment since had that peace and happiness come back to you as it should've.

Every now and again, you had caught yourself nearly turning to look at her from the side with nothing near a pleasant expression. “What?” Quiet sat heavy between you before she tried again, only louder. “You have something to say, then say it.”

Strong urges within you begged, implored to keep it to yourself. To not say it, but yet you did. It came out as if you were a child without a filter, either in words spoken aloud or even in an attitude any could detect. “It's strange is all, what you consider worthy of your loyalty.” Demanding what that was supposed to mean, you wished to hold it back.

But you knew better. You knew many truths now, and some did not connect as well as others, all of which did not feel good at any stage. “You're helping me now, but you came out here at Euron's orders to kill Jon and kidnap myself. I can't help but wonder why your own blood saw none of that even attempted towards him when he needed it most.”

Yara was quiet, and not with any reason you knew for. But her voice was a distant mutter, as if a fear existed that if heard in the air someplace other then her mind then she may have to deal with the consequences of it. But if no other hint was to be given, yourself and Yara knew too well who you were thinking of. “And you know more about it?” Humming in your throat, an edge sharpened along her own. “I doubt that. Those Boltons mutilated my brother, sent what they cut from him to us in a box.”

The pain in your body radiated into your heart, a pain long wished to see him move past. The way Theon sat outside the tub your own desecrated body was soaking in, the way neither of you could look as he spoke of it all. The taunts, forcing you into a nightmare of the making from the deepest of the seven hells and yet how Ramsay would look up, and mock him. Call him a name to strip him of his life and mock for what he could not force him to participate in.

She did not take your doubtful ire well, grip around you tightening inadvertently as she herself was working herself up more into something you knew she had no true grounds to stand on. “I tried to help him, what have you ever done for him? Have your precious King in the North kill the Boltons for him? Make him stay on and serve the same family who kept him hostage-”

Teeth gritting, your muscles begged to heal in an instant to turn on her for what she had no right to claim. “You wouldn't-” Heart floating in your chest as if dropped from a mountains edge, your eyes widened as your mouth parted slightly before turning to the side with your face twisting into a true mistrust. “What do you mean you tried to help him? By leaving him in the North while you sat in your home on Pyke?”

Whatever guilt she felt, you had suddenly wished she would drown in it. The manner in which she struggled to let any of it out before telling you what she had done, after receiving a mutilated piece of Theon from Ramsay. You held very little memory of it, perhaps the vague recollection of the bells tolling but muffled under a deeply disturbed hallucination through ill and fever. You had seen none of the Dreadfort beyond the courtyard and the halls in and out of the dungeon you existed in for months.

Yara explained that they had been taken to where Theon was, and what happened in that room. Only, the story ended the only manner which was possible. Theon was still there, and dragged to Winterfell with you eventually to which somehow, it only got worse as the torment was now shared as a joy for Ramsay to enact on both of you together.

Hounds. It was those bloody hounds that sent her away. And before you had thought of any words, nothing but disgust erupted inside of your system until it seethed in your eyes. Stopping in place, she almost stumbled noticing you had not continued with her. But as she tried to defend herself, she only dug herself a grave. “I did everything I could.” Turning to face you head on, you had not even blinked as she tried again, almost pleading for you to listen. “I tried to get him to come, he refused to listen to me.” Your eyes did not move nor did you breathe you were certain, nothing could even twitch unless it came out before you could contain what you could not finish. “It was my men against those hounds.”

Jaw twitching in her, but something devastated shared the space occupying your rage. You never knew this. She had come for him, but she left. Without him. And her final plea was her last as she tried to turn, imploring you to walk and finding an immovable force within your stance. “Theon wouldn't come with me, I couldn't risk losing my men and my life if he refused to come home. It isn't my fault.”

Unbeknownst to you however, your words were a repeat of her own history. Turning your body to face her she spun around the moment they passed your lips. “He's your brother.” The shame was growing and you only added onto it as she pleaded she had no other choice. “Theon is your brother, as he is mine and you left him to die.”

In her own mind, Yara felt a bit stunned. You looked at her with the same vitriol she had looked to her own father with. Yet she now was the one making the excuses he did for why they should leave Theon to die. Stammering a bit, she couldn't make eye contact as she attempted any way to pull herself from the grave she knew she had just flung herself into. “I would've died trying to get him out, I had to leave.”

Cutting right though it, the truth was harsh for her to hear and you said it with every intention for it to hurt inside. “Theon and I were both prisoners to them. And when we were dragged to Winterfell, Ramsay Bolton only begun to torture us together in brand new ways. I wanted to die. I was ready. I wouldn't have made it any longer before killing myself if it weren't for him.”

Would you have lived through the night had Theon not made a plan to get you out? You didn't even know if you could hold out until the sun rose with them any longer. And you told her why you did. Helping you escape, running from his men and those hounds. “He refused to leave me. I was a dead weight to him trying to escape and he never let me slow down until we found anything even resembling safety. He had the perfect chance to leave alone and start new, but he didn't leave me behind even though some days I still wonder if he should have.”

You didn't care the look on her face, what it meant or said. Shock or guilt, it didn't matter. She left him behind to die, and so Theon refused to do it for you. Her whisper was seeking a way to pick at your story but with no ability to meet your unblinking gaze, too intense for her to hold steadily. “If he was free then, why did he never come home?”

It hurt to hear, what you said. And for once, you were glad to be the one to deliver such sharp wounds to another. “Because he has a place here. He belongs in Winterfell. He's the closest thing to a true brother I have, and never for a moment did I let the things he did before effect how he was treated after. If he had a chance to go back to Pyke, then he never took it. But not because anyone was holding him back from it. He stayed because he's as much a Greyjoy as he is a Stark.”

Yara was his blood, but not his family. Such things were not the same. The Starks gave you family when yours never wanted to be one in whole. And it was the thing which kept the only family you thought you had left together, between you and Theon. You left knowing he was angry with you, because you did not want to tell him you may never come back. You didn't want him to think he had to watch you leave to what could be death. Because you didn't want to stand there after everything and hurt him more then he had getting there.

But abandoning him to his death? To save your own life? That was not the kind of man Eddard Stark raised Theon to be, unlike whatever Balon Greyjoy raised Yara to be now. She may have helped save you here, but she also almost took you away from Jon and your son. She knew nothing about truly protecting the ones you love.

Limping passed her, you did not withhold how your shoulder bumped roughly into hers. Each step producing an even worse wince when she turned to try and follow with a shout. “Are you just going to limp to the Wall, is that it? Lecture me and leave?”

Only a dry yell back you did not stop your slow but continuing pace to the ones you loved. “I know the path. I'll make it one way or another.” Yara begun to follow, raising her voice to you about just leaving her there and you shouted back only a little less dry and a tinge more tense. “Your feet work, follow me then. Or don't.”

Sometimes it surprised you, how quickly it was let out. Not often did it happen, but just when the right combination of things presented itself, did everything your father raise you to be go right out of the window. And in it's place the yell and the furious anger of a Baratheon just as Robert could take it's place, the second Yara grabbed your shoulder to make you stop. Turning in place you leaned more up to her face, as she clearly held no issue either with yelling. “You save my life once and suddenly it forgives trying to force me into a monsters hands, coming out here to kill the man I love, separate him and our son from me? Give me one reason why saving my life one single time means I shouldn't shove you right back into those waters and leave you to freeze in them.”

Her voice yelled right back as the sun went down around your spat. “You going to be the one to tell Theon you left his sister to die?” You came right back that you left him to die, her face twisting further into anger as yours narrowed in a seething despite the shouting from your burning lungs. “I did what I thought I had to do for my family-”

Were your body not weak and in pain, your shaking muscles may have been effective in anything other then making you feel dizzy as the pain in your head increased. “You have no clue what family truly means.”

“Keep interrupting me, Baratheon and I'll-”

Leaning in your yell dropped sudden as a waters drop. Down to a hissing in her face that she could even think to defend what she'd done. “You will what? Hit me? Kill me?” Holding your arms out, you took a painful step back. “Go right ahead, Greyjoy. Kill me and see who is left to side with you then. Get to the Wall and explain to Jon how you got angry and left the mother of his child to die. Go to Winterfell and defend it to Theon, see how much he appreciates what you do to protect your family.”

So little did fury flow through you but you would not bend for her. She was taller, stronger, and scarier but you had faced death and far worse then death. Whatever she could do was nothing compared to what blood had already been spilt in your nightmares.

The growling though? That came not from you nor her, and yet it increased suddenly until something snatched at Yaras clothes and yanked her back enough to throw her on the snowy ground. Splayed out did Ghost appear in front of you vicious and snarling as the equally as large and darker furred Summer get in her face as all anger in her bled away to fear.

Your senses returning from burning red as you had to shake yourself into the present, “Summer, stop-” Growling more did the direwolf lean into her face before turning on a dime to look at you. Stare unblinking and stern, but in comparison to Ghosts, you recognized the human in his eyes. Ghost was as he always was as a protector alone, but what you had learned to see in him was now seen in Summer. Limping forward a bit, your hand braced against Ghosts fur, easing up beside you you knelt down in a wince as the other came up to you.

Head tilting back as something amazed painted over you just as it had when you saw such a feat right on Jons face doing it, but now in the opposite manner. “Bran?” The wolf's head nodded, and you almost laughed. Whispering as you reached up to run your hand gently over his fur, “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with you Starks. Is everyone alright?” A single nod as your heart nearly deflated in relief.

On the ground behind still you heard Yara with a shout, “What the fuck is going on with any of you people?” Ghost leaned closer to your pained figure as you looked over Bran in Summer's eyes.

He glanced up to the sky as did you to follow, the sun had little time left. Without looking to her, you shouted back only without the anger this time as your hand ran gently over Ghost beside you, comfort returning in some capacity to your heart. “We need to leave. We shouldn't be out here alone when the sun goes down.”

Forcing herself up, you could see from the top of your vision how much she did in the moment, remind you of Theon. Her high strung exasperated state in frustration muttering, “I hate this place.”

Eyes finding Ghosts, the direwolf's mind his own and yet it was just as warm as if Jon were beside you. One in the same they were, and even if Jon couldn't come for you as he wished, needing to protect the baby, Ghost was just as good, and just as something reminding you of home.

A few hours to the Wall, only a few hours. But you had to leave now, pain or no through your person, once the sun goes down, the white winds could come at anytime and there was no place to hide from them this far south here.

As four figures approached the Wall, the sound Jon once thought would be comforting to hear was only a reminder of what he still didn't have with him. Meera having switched places again to take over pulling the sledge carrying Bran. Benjen beside Jon now, his hand coming up to rest comfortingly on Jons shoulder not where little Eddard was being held while he rested, his uncle's words low. “She'll get here, Jon. He'll make sure of it.”

Looking to his brother, Jon finally realized what it looked like. Brans eyes a pure white, he had to trust that he and Ghost together could find you and get you back. In only two hours would the sky turn dark, and he feared what it would take to get you back once what comes in the night, comes crawling out looking for eyes to turn blue forever.

Looking down to the baby, Jon shushed him gently as he made a small cry at the volume of the horn, “We're almost home, I promise. We just need to get her back.” He trusted you and he trusted Bran, but his heart couldn't take being apart from you much longer. Desperately, he tried to hold back the sting in his eyes at how horribly the world kept tearing you apart from him, and now your son together.

The gate to Castle Black finally begun to open, but Jon felt sick at the thought of walking through it.

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

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sugaredrhubarb · 1 year ago

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Reading with Ru: Aug/Sept Fic Recs

I know I'm certainly in need of some positivity and escapism lately, so I'm gonna try to do semi-regular fic and book recs! Starting with a retroactive what I've been reading from the past couple of months with this account! (I might go back in time and make an all-time rec list later)

COD

starting with cod because i know most of you go here

Sergeant Squeaks by @charliemwrites - (series of one-shots ghost x reader and price x reader separately) both one of my favourite reader characters and my favourite canon setting depictions of Ghost and Price. their own weird brands of showing love are wonderful; the tension leading to getting together is fantastic, and the sex is super enjoyable.

Ghost Stories by @kneelingshadowsalome - (ghost x medic!reader) I'm repeating myself, but I love Salome's writing. This is where I was first introduced to it, and I think it's really special. Ghost POV as he struggles with developing and then accepting love. felt so real and grounded. angsty and then fluffy, and you can't help but adore the reader as well.

saltwater by @ceilidho - (ghost x reader) It's pretty unlikely any of you don't know Ceil, but on the off chance you haven't given this one a read yet, it really is a must. I lump praise on her pretty regularly, but I don't know anyone who is able to portray their character's emotions as intimately as Ceil. her ghost feels really grounded in all his complexity. there is a common theme in these recs of really enjoyable reader characters, and this is not an exception; the reader feels like a full but still ambiguous character who is vulnerable and strong and really great.

don't leave me locked in your heart by @ohbo-ohno - (ghoap x reader dark!) we all know bo, we all love bo. I always love the way she depicts ghost and soap's dynamic changing and evolving to include the reader. the descent into dark territory in this is really really fun. It's also just hot and well-written! if you haven't read it before, go read it, and then go read all of bo's drabbles and asks on here. genuinely one of my favourite dark but still fun writers. I think she balances it really well.

body electric by @yeyinde and Afterburn by @sprout-fics - (141 + Los Vaqueros x reader) a classic. I've returned to these so many times. sometimes you just want to read dirty, filthy, well done, smut and then warm cozy aftercare. not to wax poetic about pure sex (except that's exactly what one should do), but I think it can be really hard to write group sex like this and still have such insightful and individual glimpses into each character and dynamic, and Lev does it wonderfully. and then it's also hard to find good aftercare fic, and Sprout's feels like literal aftercare for both the reader character and the reader.

other fandoms

tried to curate to themes i think overlap in some of the cod works! and I think most of these can be read fandom blind.

i revisited @winterrose527's fic in August, and even though she already knows how much I love her work, I won't skip a chance to repeat it. Anna writes for asoiaf and is pretty much the queen of Robb Stark/Myrcella Baratheon, but I would say the modern AUs (my favs) can be read almost completely fandom blind. Any contemporary romance enjoyer would love her work. I'm really partial to her kid/single-parent fics. I think it's so hard to get right, and I always adore reading her kid characters and how she approaches love stories when kids are involved. anna's works are always brimming with love and incredible platonic, familiar, parent-child, and romantic relationships (if kid fic isn't your thing she also has a ton of other great fics). personal favs: We Could Be a Little Something, And There They Are, All the Same

Lawless by @goldcranes - (arthur morgan x ofc) age difference, cowboy love story, essentially a romance novel. if goldcranes has no fans, I'm dead. I encourage you to explore her work; very few people write as strongly across multiple fandoms as she does, and each of her works feels like a really strong love story with special characters.

The Odyssey by @sunlightmurdock - (bradley bradshaw x reader) 1980's roman literature prof x virgin student - no need to know top gun. katie's work is another entry in the 'feels like it stands really strongly separately from the source material' category. she has multiple ongoing AU's that I really love, but this one is a favourite. i think she does complex characters really well - their actions always feel intentional, and as flawed as they are, I always love them.

Wouldn't it be Nice by allyoops - (m/f captive A/B/O) if you aren't reading original works smut on ao3 you are missing out and allyoops is a great place to start for noncon, dubcon, age gap, taboo etc. enjoyers. they have a ton of works; usually one shots with lots of really delicious dynamics and different settings and tropes.

An Intoxicating Presence by FormerlyIR - (mob a/b/o haladriel) MOB. A/B/O. HALADRIEL. picks up with Halbrand in prison thanks to undercover FBI agent (and his mate!) Galadriel. does that sound crazy and awesome? well it is. mix it with Gal's internal struggle, the added complication of omegaverse, and overall great writing. really fun and really damn good.

civitas terrena by banalityofweevil - (darklina) angel Alina on an exploration of love in immortality with fallen angel Aleks. honestly, it's just a must-read for enjoyers of writing. incredibly creative with divine (literally and figuratively) imagery. i think one of my comments was on the precision of lulu's diction and I really stand by that.

tinsel into gold by ribbonedhare - (darklina) ddlg and cnc friends, this changed me. it is so warm and soft and my god, is it good. just scrumptious.

Be My Babydoll by KittyDruthers - (darklina) ddlg dollification need I say more

check the reading with ru tag for more!

#reading with ru #if you read any of these and wanna yell about em with me my asks are open!#fic rec #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfics #cod #darklina #fanfic recs

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heartofmortis · 11 days ago

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Lionheart ✶ Chapter Two

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

note: i'm so sorry this took so long 😭 editing takes way too much effort

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

You rose late the next morning. Winterfell was half empty with the men having left on their hunt at dawn. Not wanting to disturb your siblings from their restful slumber, you returned from your walk with Robb — which lasted until the feast was ending — and snuck into your sister’s bed for the night. The temptation had struck you to slide into bed beside Myrcella and Tommen, as you often had when you were little, but maybe you were a little old for sleepovers now. Now, while Tommen attended sparring lessons with Joffrey and the Stark boys, you and Myrcella sat in on the girls’ sewing lesson.

Having had a needle poised between your fingers since you were six, you had spent many hours hunched over fabric and it showed. You had the most experience and your embroidery was the best (not that you were comparing), but Sansa Stark was giving you a run for your money.

Listening to Septa Mordane’s instructions, you had taken a seat beside Alys, Robb’s twin sister, and her friend Elia Dayne — a Dornish girl who was even farther from home than you. The Stark’s septa was sat with Myrcella, admiring the little Princess’s crooked stitches. You smiled when your sister showed off her proud grin. Alys’s youngest sister, Arya, sat with you too, trying to get as far away from Sansa as possible.

Arya gave a sudden huff, frowning at the crooked stitches she had made. You looked down at the Stark girl. “You’re doing better than I did at your age.” It was a small lie, but you hoped Arya wouldn’t notice.

Arya looked at you and the neat embroidery in your hands. “That’s not true.”

Septa Mordane turned away from Myrcella. “Arya! Don’t be rude to the Princess.”

You laughed. “It’s quite alright. Here, would you like some help?”

You watched Arya glance past you, looking at Alys who gave her an encouraging nod, and Sansa who was occupied with her circle of friends. Arya gave a stiff nod. “Look really close at the tiny holes in the fabric. I used to scribble a line in pencil so I could see where I was stitching. Don’t squint too much or you’ll hurt your eyes, but try making smaller stitches like this…” You took Arya’s small hand and demonstrated, poking the needle through the fabric, pulling through and out the other end.

It took a couple of tries and then you let Arya make her own stitches, which turned out much neater. Arya grinned. “Thank you.”

Their lesson was interrupted by Robb. All the girls stopped their work and turned to look at him.

“Septa, might I steal the Princess for a short while?” he asked, smiling over at you. Robb’s smile made his blue eyes glow brighter. It was infectious, you found yourself smiling too. You did not realise a simple smile could make your heart beat a little faster, but Robb’s did and you weren't quite sure why.

Septa Mordane made no complaint. You set your needlework down and left with the heir of Winterfell. You walked outside together, your hand fitting in the crook of Robb’s arm.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself,” you said as you walked towards the stables.

Robb laughed. “I’m sure you won’t. Besides, there is no one here to see you.” He motioned around the courtyard, still empty. Robb had skipped the hunt in favour of seeing you. The thought made your heart thudder. You would have their whole lives together, yet Robb still offered to spend time with you now. You were grateful — you wanted to spend time with him too.

There were still a few horses left in the stables — old and tame, Robb called them. “Not as fast for hunting anymore, but perfect for learning with.”

You realised how little you actually knew about horses. You tried to help Robb saddle the horse he picked for you — soft brown with one white ear — but he gave you an apple to feed the horse instead.

“It’ll keep her calm,” Robb explained. “Let her get used to you. And don’t be afraid.”

You giggled as the horse ate the apple from your open palm. You ran a hand up and down the horse’s face. Once the saddle and reins were secured, Robb called you to his side. You had seen many men mount a horse before but now you had to try, you didn’t know how they did it.

Robb manoeuvred himself so he stood behind you. “Left foot in the stirrup. Put your hands here. And pull yourself up.”

“What if I fall?”

“You won’t. I’ve got you.” Robb set his hands on your hips. You gripped the edge of the saddle tighter, warmth growing on your cheeks, as he helped hoist you up onto the horse. “There you go! How do you feel?”

You looked around the courtyard. “Tall. Very tall.”

You both laughed. “I’ll ask Alys if you can borrow some of her riding gear next time.”

“Next time?”

“You can’t learn a new skill and only use it once,” Robb said. “Now–” He touched your knee, fingers splayed against your thigh. You stared down at him. “You have to sort of hug the horse with your legs, but not too tightly. And hold the reins like this.” Robb demonstrated and held your hands in his as he adjusted your grip. “You’re doing great. Let’s get you moving.”

Robb was very patient with you — especially when you cried out as soon as the horse moved, scared you were about to fall. (“I can’t sit on the horse with you to keep you safe. But you won’t fall, even if you do I’ll catch you.”)

He showed you how to walk and trot and steer until you felt sure enough to guide your horse in circles without Robb holding onto the reins and walking beside you. It did not take long for the fear that had clung to your chest when she first sat atop the horse to dissipate. That was until a direwolf ran through the courtyard and gave the horse a terrible fright, making you cry out in surprise — thank the gods, Robb was quick to settle the horse before she could try and throw you from the saddle.

“Are you alright?” Robb asked. One hand on the reins, one hand on your thigh to steady you.

You nodded, your fingers tense against the reins.

Robb was looking up, eyes searching against the walls of the castle. “Bran!”

Your head turned to see Brandon Stark climbing the wall above the stable. “I’m sorry!” he called down. He whistled to his wolf — still without a name — and scurried away over the wall, the pale wolf running along the ground behind him.

Robb chuckled. “I don’t expect any horse will grow used to a direwolf any time soon. Hopefully Grey Wind will forgive me for not taking him with us.”

You gave a puzzled expression as Robb disappeared back into the stable and re-emerged a moment later with another horse, saddled and ready. “Where are we going?” you asked as he mounted the horse with practised ease.

“The Wolfswood is two miles away,” Robb explained. “We will start in that direction and see how you’re doing.”

***

You quickly found that you adored riding. Even at a slower pace to get used to the way the horse moved under her, you found yourself grinning into the breeze. Hair tousled and legs burning, you felt free. You could not help but feel disappointed when you and Robb returned to Winterfell before your fathers came back from their hunt.

Robb helped you down when you arrived back at the stables. Fire spread across your body when Robb gripped your waist to steady you in your dismount. When he let you go you felt cold, and you never wanted to feel cold again.

“You’re a natural,” Robb said.

“I just had a good teacher.” you grinned.

“You’ll have to teach me something next.”

You laughed. “I’m sure all my lessons would keep you very interested,” you said sarcastically. “But I dare say your sisters would find it amusing if you took part in their sewing lessons.”

“Gods.” Robb shared your laughter. “Alys made me once. I pricked myself so many times I thought Septa Mordane would give me a thimble for every finger.”

A guard approached as you and Robb walked away from the stables — one of your mother’s personal staff.

“Princess.” The guard gave a stiff bow. You and Robb turned. “Your mother requests to see you.”

An eager smile graced your lips. You turned back to Robb, dropping into a small curtsey. “Thank you for the lesson.” You fell into step with the guard to go find your mother.

The North and Cersei Lannister were not compatible. Your mother preferred finer things, the cold and misty damp of Winterfell was not for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If you did not have to adapt to the North now you would spend your life there, you would surely share your mother’s tolerance. Dressed in scarlet and fur, Cersei brought her eldest child into her arms once you arrived.

The Queen scrunched her nose up, cutting your warm embrace short as she held you at arm’s length to study you. Tousled curls, mud splatters across your dress, you did not look very ladylike, much less like a princess. “You smell of horse.”

You gave a guilty smile. “Robb taught me how to ride.”

Cersei reclaimed her seat by the window, you sat next to her. It was warm inside, a welcome contrast to the cold morning. “Just do not turn wild while you are living here,” Cersei warned. “There will be enough Starks in King’s Landing without my daughter turning into a wolf.”

Despite your mother’s seriousness, you managed a chuckle. “I am a Baratheon and a Lannister first. I cannot see myself turning wild that quickly.”

Cersei’s eyes softened. She looked away from you, turning back to the window to look down upon the world around them. “Will he make you happy?”

After five years of letters and the feeling of wind in your hair, you nodded with utter certainty. “I think so.”

The Queen took her daughter’s hands tightly in her own. “If you have any doubt about him, even for a second, you will tell me.”

“Robb is a good man, Mother. He’ll be good to me.”

“You have a soft heart, my sweet girl.” Cersei cupped your face in her hands. You looked so similar, except for your eyes. You were always jealous of your siblings and your mother’s emerald eyes. “I pray it doesn’t destroy you.”

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

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starkskeep · 2 years ago

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From amongst the clouds came the flames (r. stark)

From amongst the clouds came the flames r. stark imagine

Pairings - Robb Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Word Count - 2,307 words

Warnings - Brief mention of assault (non-descriptive), arranged marriage

A/N - A lot of the thoughts of the reader in this imagine, I do not agree with. I wanted to experiment with an unreliable narrator, and thus, mc's experiences will alter how they see the world around them.

Request - don’t know if you still accept requests but could you please write an imagine with Robb and a Targaryen reader who have agreed to an alliance in order to conquer against the lannisters but they always butt heads and she always goes against his words until one night he kind of admits his feelings for her mid argument and they kind of… you know.

You had never expected to be where you were now. As the only living child of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen, you knew that it was your blood right to sit upon the Iron Throne. The gods had spared you when Tywin Lannister’s Mad Dog stormed the Red Keep and brutally murdered your mother and siblings. A childhood illness had kept you in the arms of your nursemaid that night the woman was quick thinking enough to sneak out through the servant’s quarters amidst the chaos. Pretending you were her child until you were well enough to sail, the faithful servant brought you to Dorne where you were raised by your mother’s family. Treasured by the Martells as the last living connection to Elia, you grew up wanting for nothing. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. There was never anything that stood in the way of you getting what you wanted.

That is why it was so surprising, as you stood in Oberyn’s chambers at Sunspear, that you heard of how Oberyn was planning to take you far north. He planned to align with the self-proclaimed King of the North and the Trident. “Doran should have never agreed to take Myrcella Baratheon as a ward, much less give her a place in our family. Accepting a Lannister’s deal? It is an insult to Elia’s memory.” Your favorite uncle spits out. He stops pacing and whips around to face you, looking like his moniker amongst the flickering candles. “Dearest niece. I have arranged an alliance in order to combat my brother’s moronic decisions. Tomorrow morning, you will board a ship that will take you to the Riverlands.”

You stare at your uncle in shock. “The Riverlands? But that is where…You are giving me to the Starks? Selling me off to the boy king? I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought the memory of my mother meant more to you than that.” All your life, you had been told of how your father abandoned your mother for Lyanna Stark. He left your family—his wife and children—to die in the Red Keep in the most horrific of ways because he wanted to pursue the Northern woman. You do not fully blame Lyanna. She was a young girl and Rhaegar was the crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms; it would have been hard for her to deny your father. Yet, you do not hold much kindness in your heart for the Starks. From their blood came the final thread to unravel the tapestry of House Targaryen.

The blood rushing past your ears limits how much you actually hear from your uncle, but you know the words that made it pass ring true. “This is a marriage that you are talking about. You know that they will not agree to an alliance unless it is bound by an oath. The Starks believe Lyanna to have been stolen away by my father. They sided against the Targaryens in Robert’s Rebellion. An alliance with them will have to be ironclad for them to even begin to think about helping me. They are not like us. They despise the Dornish tendencies. I will be trapped in a marriage with a man that I do not even know, much less love, unable to find comfort outside of it.” There is pain lingering in the shadows of your words. Dorne is the only home you have known and now you are being forced out of it by your very family. Being sent into the cave of the wolves nestled in an environment very different from the one you grew up in.

Oberyn looks at you with pity. He wishes that there was another course of action that he could have taken in order to give you the Iron Throne on a golden platter. “Yes. It will be a marriage. I will not deny that. It is what Catelyn Stark and I have arranged. She has assured me that her son will not harm you. That is the only thing I can promise you from it. You will have your power. You will have your revenge. In that, you will find your happiness.” Your uncle walks over to you and draws your shaking form into his arms, trying to bring you comfort after his words took it from you. “You will sail to Riverrun in the morning. I have ensured that you will be allowed to bring your dragon. Nym, Obara, and Tyene will join you. They will serve as your companions and as your protectors.” A kiss is placed on the crown of your head. “You will not be alone. I swear to you.”

The journey from Dorne to Riverrrun was long. Made longer by a route carefully constructed in order to avoid detection. Extended even more by the events that will occur once you reach your destination. You are not someone who appreciates being married off. As you exit the ship, swallowing the rising bile in your throat, you spit the bonfires burning in the wolf king’s war camp. Though you do not want to admit it, the army that fights for him seems quite large and will likely fit your needs quite well.

Your small retinue is met by one in turn. A woman you infer to be Lady Catelyn Stark greets you with pity in her eyes. She sees her daughters in you. A young woman suffering from the actions of her parents and their cruel world. The others that join her are most definitely not pitying you. Their eyes are hardened. The Northmen do not trust Targaryens or the Dornish and your hair and features certainly mark you as the blood of both. You are led into the castle of Riverrun and then escorted into the makeshift war council room. Your cousins are forced to wait outside, not allowed inside, and not trusted enough to be privy to the inner workings of the Northern Army. Silencing what you know are protests brewing with one glare, you step inside. Robb Stark and his closest advisors are huddled around a table. Tension fills every crevice of the room. It suffocates you.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. The words of your mother’s house ring in your head as you curtsy. You may show deference to your future husband at the moment but you will never be something to be controlled. “Greetings, Your Grace. It is an honor to be welcomed here in Riverrun.” The words are like poison on your tongue. They taste vile. It is a miracle that you are able to keep your voice and your expression from betraying your true feelings.

Robb looks you up and down. He observes the way you stand, your facial ticks, and the controlled lilt of your voice. You are pretty. The proof of the stories told about House Targaryen’s beauty stands in front of him. With the looks of a queen and pure ambition burning in your violet eyes, there is no doubt that you will make a powerful ally. A true leader fit to rule beside him as long as his people can overcome their historic distrust of your ancestors. You are the blood of the dragon. To Robb, you are an enigma that can never be tamed. “Aye. We have prepared what we had for your arrival.” The Northern king eyes those that surround him, judging their reaction to you before continuing to address you. “I did not want to be a king that had his wife chosen for him. I was raised as a lord with the promise to marry for love. It seems like we are both being forced into this marriage. I do not want to meet you in the Godswood full of false hope. This will be a transactional marriage only. The buildup to this will not be extended. You and I will marry tonight once you have bathed and rested. Do you have any objections to this?”

There are no objections from you nor from anyone else in the room. They all know why this marriage is occurring. You will being Dorne into an alliance with them. Though Robb has expressed no desire for the Iron Throne, those on his council that do believe that you will provide legitimacy for him in the eyes of the people. A Targaryen returned to power by a Stark that rules beside her. The ceremony is rushed. You are wedded and bedded before the sun rises the next morning. A new era begins as the first rays shine over the lands of Westeros.

A marriage of equals proves to be much more butting heads rather than intriguing conversations. There are very few conversations between you and Robb that end in anything other than an argument. How you should act, how you should speak, how Robb should address you etc. The previous argument was about how the food being served at Riverrun was too bland for your taste. You and your cousins were used to the flavorful spices of your home’s dishes. You won that argument and watched on in barely concealed glee as the faces of Robb’s men reddened as their palates were introduced to new tastes. The argument before that was about how the dragon has taken to antagonizing Robb’s men. You explained that your dragon was bored. You were not being allowed to take it on flights as you were in Dorne for fear of your safety. Robb won that argument and your dragon was moved to a field a good distance away from the war camp.

“My queen, you cannot expect a man to be comfortable with sending his wife onto the battlefield.” Robb looks you dead in the eyes as he speaks. He is in total disbelief that his wife wants to join him in the march south. He was raised by his mother and Lady Catelyn is a proper lady. The only girls Robb knows who would willingly ride into battle is the Mormonts of Bear Island and his little sister.

“Me aiding your army with my dragon is one of the reasons we were married. You need me and my beast just as much as you need the Dornish men.”

“I do not care if it is for a second or for a week. A battlefield is not a place for a noblewoman, especially if that woman is my wife and the queen of my people. You will not be put in harm’s way. I have already made up my mind. I will not have my queen join me in battle. This decision is final.”

“I have brought you my dragon and my uncles’ armies yet you still deny me a place beside you. I cannot believe this!”

Authority seeps into Robb’s voice as he responds once more, frustrated with your lack of understanding. “My queen you do not—cannot—understand where I am coming from because you never lived in war. Your entire existence has been one of privilege and freedom. You have never been denied a meal. You have never had to lose a friend to war. You have never had to deliver news of a son’s death to a weeping mother.” Robb shakes his head. “I will not risk the safety of my wife, not while I still draw my breath.”

“I lost my entire family to war and the Lannisters when I was just a babe. It was pure luck that I was able to escape. My mother was brutally assaulted and killed by the Mountain when Tywin Lannister seized the capital. Because of them, I had to grow up without my parents and my siblings. Do not lecture me like I am one of your men.” You spit out. Indignant fury coats every word.

“I am sympathetic but it will not change my decision. Bringing you into battle with me would put everything and everyone at risk. The Lannisters will want your head even more than they want mine. You are the greatest threat to their reign.”

You know you will not be able to win this argument nor will you be able to convince Robb to let you join him in the march. Instead, you turn to leave with a plan already forming deviously in your mind. When you reach the doorway, you turn to have the last word. “I shall sleep in my own chambers tonight. Do not expect me in your bed tonight, Your Grace.” The title is sneered mockingly upon your departure.

A/N - I'm sorry this took so long to post. My life was consumed by schoolwork. I wanted to get this out for the anon who requested it. There will be a second part that reveals MC's plan and it will include the requested smut. It wasn't meant to be two parts but the imagine was already quite long by the time I reached this end. It would be far too much if I were to include the plan and the smut in one part.

#request #robb stark x you #robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark oneshot

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

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Between a Wolf and a Hound I

Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x Baratheon!Reader

Summary: Sandor Clegane was never naïve enough to think he could marry the king's daughter but it doesn't make it any easier to see her married off.

Warnings: Full disclosure I wrote this in sections over the course of like two months so it's a bit jumbled. POV will randomly switch from first to third and back to first with no clear indication (sorry).

Real Warnings: Arranged marriage, cursing, angst, fighting, smut, public consummation, non/dubcon (didn't enter marriage willingly, therefore consummation is not consensual esp with witnesses)

Word Count: 5.8K

Masterlist | Part II

“Ooh and I’ve heard Robb Stark is the most handsome man in all of the North,” my sister, Myrcella squealed in excitement for me.

I tried my best to feign the same excitement, especially in the presence of my mother. She initially wasn’t particularly thrilled about the betrothal between the Stark heir and me but it was my father’s decision. So, making the best of an unideal situation, she had been grooming me to be a perfect princess and wife. “Myrcella, princesses don’t gush,” Cersei chastised. My sister’s excited expression quickly dropped and she looked down at her feet. Fortunately before my mother could turn her poison tongue on me, there were a few shouts calling for us to halt and the carriage stopped.

Cersei opened the curtain to the carriage window, revealing the barren land of the North, a looming wall of stone obstructing our view of what I assumed to be Winterfell. Of course there wasn’t much of a view to be found in the North. Everything was cold and grey, either dead or dying. The only thing that kept me me from casting myself from the towers of the Red Keep was the fact that in the north, my family wouldn’t bother me. I could be away from the schemings of the Lannisters and the general sense of betrayal within King’s Landing. “Remember, you curtesy and smile politely. You speak only if spoken to and then it’s right off to your chambers until dinner,” my mother told me.

“Yes, mother,” I agreed, nodding my head obediently. The carriage moved again shortly and I watched as the walls moved past us, bringing us into a cold courtyard. After another minute the door to our carriage swung open, letting in a gust of cold wind.

Myrcella crept out first, being met by a guard. I made my way to the door next, revealing my sworn shield, Sandor Clegane. I was relieved to see him, seeing as I haven’t been able to speak to him since we left King’s Landing. “Princess,” he greeted. I only stared up at him, reluctant to let him lead me to greet my future husband, a task he didn’t take pleasure in either.

A gentle tug on my hand brought me back to reality and I let him march me up to my father and brothers. I could feel Sandor’s presence behind me as I observed the Stark family. The young man, who I presumed to be Robb had his gaze on me before looking up, likely to meet the glare of my lover.

Robb quickly averted his gaze from the intimidating guard flanking his betrothed. He returned his gaze to her, admiring her summer beauty. He knew he could fall in love with her just as his parents had after they were married.

I didn’t pay attention to to the reunion of my father and Lord Stark, just wishing to run back to the warm summer of King’s Landing with Sandor.

As my father began to suggest a tour my mother cut in. “I suggest we send the girls to their chambers until the feast.”

“I will escort-” Robb began to offer but was quickly cut off both by Sandor’s growl and Cersei’s sneer.

“No, The Hound and a maid will escort them,” she dismissed.

“Of course your grace,” Lady Stark obeyed, calling for a servant to fetch her most trusted maid.

Not even a minute later a very out of breath woman scurried in. “This way your highnesses,” she quickly cut to the chase, beginning to lead us away. I followed after her first, Myrcella reluctantly following, disappointed at the loss of excitement, and Sandor surely following behind.

We wordlessly walked through the cold hallways until we reached two rooms. Myrcella took the first one and I took the second. I was reluctant to leave Sandor but he stoically took his position outside the doors.

The room was large with a canopy bed in the center between two windows. There was a washroom and closet attached. I was surprised to find my trunk laid at the foot of my bed.

Heading towards the window I found nothing but miles of grey trees lying just beyond the walls of Winterfell. My mind wandered to all the horrific creatures that could live in these woods as well as beyond the Wall that separated Westeros from the rest of the continent. But before I could delve too deep into those thoughts, the opening of my chamber door interrupted me. Turning around I found Sandor. I opened my mouth to greet him but he spoke before I could. “I don’t want you marrying that cunt.”

I sighed. This wasn’t a new topic, I was betrothed the minute I was born, and neither Sandor nor I were naïve enough to think that we could ever be married. “I know, I don’t want to marry him either.” I approached him, wrapping my arms around his large frame. “I don’t want to live here,” I nearly began to cry. “It’s cold and I don’t know anyone and no one will let me bring guards or servants that I’ve known all my life.”

“Fuck ‘em I’ll be here with you,” he swore, tightening his arms around me.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that while I’m married off to someone else.”

“I’ve known this would happen the whole time, I’m not leaving you with strangers,” he grunted out. “Besides you and I both know you’re mine.”

“I am,” I heard myself agree, pushing up onto my toes to press my lips to his. Sandor still having to lean down to kiss me because of his stature.

I pulled back a little, not expecting to do anymore than kiss him right now but his lips followed. I allowed our lips remain connected as I felt his hands reach under my ass and thighs. He lifted me up, taking the short trek to my temporary bed for the time we stayed.

Laying me down gently he got right to work hoisting my dress up to my hips, never disconnecting our lips. I let out a soft moan into his mouth as his fingers briefly brushed over my clit. In an experienced move he tugged at my undergarments, leaving my core vulnerable to him.

Quickies were a regular occurrence for us seeing as our relationship was forbidden and I was hardly every left alone. We had to make the most of our time together.

In a well practiced move Sandor had his armor and pants down, exposing his length to me. I felt his cock drag up my already wet slit, teasing me slightly before pressing inside me. I tried to muffle my gasp at the sudden intrusion, wary of what may lie just beyond the walls of the room.

“Squeezing me so tight,” Sandor grunted in my ear, continuing to thrust himself inside of me. His hand slipped down to where our bodies met, his fingers finding my clit once again. I let out a soft moan, wrapping my legs around his waist at the feeling. “I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,” he groaned out. “This pussy is mine.”

“It’s yours,” I agreed with a moan. He then suddenly pulled out of me and I whined at the loss. He reached for the only spare piece of fabric to catch his seed, my panties. I watched breathlessly as he fisted his cock twice, cumming into my panties with a muffled groan.

Once he had thoroughly milked himself dry he tucked the soiled fabric into his armor before delving in between my thighs. He wasted no time licking at my already leaking hole. I involuntarily let out a soft moan, reaching down to grip his hair in order to ground myself.

It didn’t take me long to finish as my lover had his face pressed against my weeping core. And when I did cum on his face he simply took the panties he had used earlier to clean myself and him up before tucking them back into his armor. “Did so good for me, Princess,” he praised, pressing a rare, gentle kiss to my forehead. I relaxed into his touch, enjoying the comfort of his large frame.

He began to get up but my arms slid around his broad chest. “Wait, just… stay with me a moment?” He hesitated for a second before relaxing against me once again, wrapping me in his embrace as I had done to him.

“I can’t stay too long, little one,” he explained softly.

“I know I just need you right now,” I murmured, pressing my face into the crook of his neck.

I was jolted awake by a knock on my door. My thoughts were immediately of ‘how do I explain why my guard is in my bed?’ but I found myself alone. Relieved, I called whoever knocked in.

“You fell asleep?!” I heard my mother gasp. “You’ll have to change quickly,” she groaned, immediately going to my trunk. She angrily sifted around until she found a suitable gown, tossing it onto the bed. “Get dressed, The Hound will be here to escort you to dinner soon. Myrcella is already dressed,” she spat. Cersei had always favored my siblings over me, I suspect because I took after my father while they looked more like Lannisters. She had always taken great pride in her Lannister name, not Baratheon although she loved her title as Queen even more.

“Yes mother,” I obeyed, grasping the dress as she exited, slamming the door behind her.

I quickly slipped out of my traveling clothes into the more ornate dress. I managed to get it on alright but struggled with some of the bindings in the back. Fortunately Sandor came to my rescue, knocking on the door gently before letting himself in. “Do you want some help, Princess?” he asked half mockingly.

I sent him a glare before begrudgingly agreeing. I could feel the warmth radiating off Sandor as he stepped up behind me, grabbing the laces. He gave an unexpected sharp tug, causing me to stumble backwards into him. “Woah, Princess.” He caught me before pushing me back up onto my feet.

“Not that tight,” I told him. He adjusted, tying my dress snugly before stepping back. I looked up at him sadly seeing as this feast would be my formal introduction to my husband.

Upon reaching the hall full of cheers, laughter, and music, I was ready to turn back and run to the stables in order to find myself a horse to bring me home. But I steeled myself like the princess I am and marched into the room. Those who noticed my presence stepped aside and bowed their heads but most were already too drunk to notice. My father was already dancing with a servant directly in my mother’s eyeline. Fortunately she was too focused on my father as well as the Stark women to notice me. So I quickly found a goblet of wine, going to a remote wall with Sandor dutifully following after.

As I leaned up against the wall, I offered Sandor a drink but he just shook his head in refusal. “You never deny wine,” I stared at him quizzically.

His gaze never found mine, instead his eyes continued sweeping the room. “‘m working. Gotta keep you safe.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” I challenged. “You and I both know it takes far more than a glass of wine to intoxicate you.”

“I don’t trust these cunts,” Sandor answered, glaring at the rest of the room.

“Why? They seem like perfectly fine people. No worse than the people in King’s Landing.”

“I don’t trust the people in King’s Landing either.”

“Well I hardly doubt anyone will attempt to harm me at the feast to honor my father. Please relax, enjoy yourself.”

“That thinking is why you need a guard, little one.”

I just huffed, continuing to observe the room. Everyone was drunk and laughing with the exception of a few guards and women. My mother and Lady Stark looked quite stoic as they conversed occasionally. My youngest siblings sat with our uncle, Tyrion, while my younger brother, Joff, sat making eyes at Sansa, the second Stark child.

Meanwhile the eldest Stark was making his way over to me. “Princess,” he greeted, taking my hand gently. “Ser,” he looked up at Sandor, “might I borrow the princess for a moment? Get her acquainted to her new home?”

Sandor made no expression except to follow us. “He won’t allow me out of his sight, Queen’s orders,” I informed Robb.

“Ah, yes, well I suppose the maintenance of a princess’ safety and virtue are principal,” Robb mused as we exited the feast hall. “And your brother, the heir, he is…”

“A prick,” I filled in for him. “Don’t call him that to anyone but me but everyone knows it. Everyone but my mother, he can do no wrong in her eyes. Even my father isn’t thrilled that he is the one that will inherit the Iron Throne. I know he’s been making eyes at your sister, I’d advise both our fathers to keep them separated. They’re already joining our houses through us.”

“I don’t think Sansa will take too kindly to that,” Robb laughed. “She is holding firm in her belief that she will be queen.”

“Advise her that queen is a position one should not covet. The kings have their men, their counsels, and their whores. Queens have less authority than any other woman. And she’d be dodging attacks from all my relatives for the rest of her life.”

“You seem relieved to be leaving King’s Landing,” Robb observed.

I shrugged, looking out a window into the dark, cold, barren land on the North. “My father is refusing to allow me to bring any comforts of home. Please don’t take offense but the North is strange to me and I’m not even allowed to bring any familiar servants or guards. Even my sworn shield, Sandor, must leave me.”

Robb took a second to observe my guard. “My mother came here, alone much like you will. She tells me she was terrified to live in the North but she has found happiness here.” Robb’s hand reached up to softly stroke my cheekbone. “I sincerely hope you too will find happiness here, little doe. And I will speak to my father about your guard. If anyone can convince the King, it is Lord Stark,” he smiled before walking off. I looked around, realizing that he had led us to my chambers, giving me an excuse to retire for the night.

So I entered the room, Sandor following me inside. “Robb is… honorable,” I said.

Sandor just grunted. He’d never admit it but if she was going to be married off to any lord, Robb Stark was probably the best choice. He seemed to take her feelings into consideration rather than drag her into his life in the North.

By the next day Winterfell had shifted from celebrations of the king to celebrations of the next Lord Stark’s marriage. The fortress’ servants were bustling around for wedding preparations while the dressmakers of both King’s Landing and the north constantly flitted around the princess. “The princess cannot possibly be married in such… rough materials. A princess dresses in silks and fine linens,” my mother’s seamstress argued, gesturing to the trunk full of fine fabrics.

“The princess cannot be married if she freezes to death,” Lady Stark’s seamstress said for the hundredth time. “It is customary for northern women to wear furs to their weddings.” I just sat on a bench, deep into my wine as they continued to bicker.

“But the queen-”

“She will be of the North!”

“‘Of north,’ ‘of south,’ gods,” I groaned to Sandor as he stood beside me. “I may as well just walk down the aisle naked seeing as this dress will never be made.”

Sandor chucked from beside me. He kept his voice low so the women wouldn’t be heard but they were so wrapped up in their bickering I doubt they’d notice if we had begun kissing. “I’m sure the queen will have her way and you’ll be married in the finest of silks whether or not you freeze to death.”

“If my mother had her way I’d be blonde and marrying one of my Lannister cousins,” I mumbled.

“Well, I’d rather you marry the Stark boy than any of the Lannister cunts.” I just hummed, keeping my focus on the glass lightly pressed to my lips. The door then opened, revealing Lady Stark and Robb.

I stood up, giving a slight curtsy to my soon to be mother-in-law. “We heard your dress is being made and we wanted to show you this,” Lady Sark said, gesturing to the bundle of fur in Robb’s arms.

He stepped closer to me. “This is the cloak I will present you at our wedding. This will be the cloak I wear when I am made Lord of Winterfell. Stark Lords present their cloaks to their brides as a display of honor and my duty to you.”

I looked down at the cloak in awe, reaching my hand up to touch the fine furs. They were soft and thick, more than enough to keep me warm. “Thank you, my Lord. Believe me, the sincerity of this gesture is not lost upon me.” I looked up, finding Robb’s smile.

Lady Stark smiled upon seeing how the soon to be couple interacted. It was clear that Robb was taken with the girl and she was relieved a royal Baratheon-Lannister was kind and fair. That she didn’t treat Robb and the rest of the Starks as lesser than. Or show contempt for being moved north.

I turned, finding the dressmakers still quietly bickering. “The dress will be of Southern style and material but I want the embroidery to be Northern. I trust the dress paired with the cloak will be acceptable to both cultures?” I asked rhetorically. The two dressmakers gave me nodded agreements. “Tell my mother of my plans, I’m sure she’ll take issue with it but she will want to know,” I told the southern seamstress.

“If you want your part of the wedding to have southern influence I don’t mind,” Robb began.

“The southern traditions are simply to appease the Lannisters. Believe me I am anxious to be separated from many aspects of my former life.” All aspects except Sandor.

He offered a small smile. “Well then, I hope the North provides a better home for you,” he said before leaving with his mother.

“Spoken like the true Lady of the North,” Sandor said in a mildly mocking tone.

I just looked at the northern dressmaker. “Leave us for a few moments.” She complied, scurrying out of the room. “Sandor…”

“You didn’t like your life in King’s Landing? Too many servants prepared to get you whatever your heart desires?” he spat, venom on his tongue. He knew his anger was misplaced but he couldn’t help but burst. He was angry at the king for marrying her off and not allowing him to stay. Angry at the Starks for falling in love with her so quickly. And angry at the princess for slipping into this life without him so easily. “Too many guards risking their lives, dying to protect you? Did the noise of me fighting to defend your honor disturb your slumber?” He was circling her as he spoke while she just stood in the center of the room.

“Sandor, you know that’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice strained.

“Then what did you mean?” he sneered.

“When I said I was anxious to leave my former life that did not include you. It will never include you. I do not rejoice in the pain I’m sure I’m dragging you through but have you failed to consider that I’m in pain too?”

Sandor knew he should stop but he didn’t. “I’m sure your husband can take your mind off of that whilst you warm his bed.” The hurt look on her face at that comment was nearly enough to make him forget his rage. Nearly. “I’ll send the seamstresses back in, don’t leave this room until I come back,” he growled.

“Is that all I am to you? Something to warm your cock?” I spat making him stop dead in his tracks. “What? Did you just want to fuck a princess so you could brag to the others? And I just became this pest you couldn’t get rid of?”

Sandor sighed. “No, little one. You’re more than that.” And with that, he walked out. I knew his last words were an apology and that he needed some time.

I stood before my parents in my father’s chambers, begging for them to let me keep Sandor. “Father, please. I’ll have no one here. There is no one familiar to me in the north.”

“I’m sorry my dear but we cannot spare the Hound to you and only you. Besides, it would be an insult to the Starks’ promise to keep you from harm if we left a guard with you.”

“Robb has already given his blessing,” I insisted.

“We need him,” my mother spoke up. “Your time with the Hound and with our protection is over. It’s time for the Starks to take care of you. As the heir to the Iron Throne, your brother needs him more.”

“But he has been my guard these past three years.”

“That’s enough,” my father chastised. “Leave, go get ready for your wedding.” Unable to ignore a direct order, I turned, leaving the room like a scared puppy. As I stepped out the door and down the hall, Sandor found his step beside me. He allowed his fingers to find mine, intertwining them briefly before letting go for fear that we would be spotted.

We made our way to what would serve as my and the other Stark women’s dressing room. But before I went in, I hesitated. I looked up at Sandor. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too, little one,” he murmured before opening the door for mw.

I was immediately confronted with the Stark women. Lady Stark, Sansa, and Arya were all dressed in formal northern dresses. Servants were flittering around them, doing the finishing touches on their outfits and hair. When they saw me, several descended, bringing me towards a vanity. They sat me down, immediately undoing the fastenings in my hair so they could redo it for the wedding. I stared blankly in the mirror as they did my hair. I could hear Arya fussing about her gown and hair, Lady Stark trying to soothe her while Sansa continued directing the servant doing her hair.

After a while of more tugging they finally deemed my hair good enough. There were several intricate braids twisted in it, pulling my hair back. A northern hairstyle. They then ushered me to put on my dress. It was white and made of mostly silk, tied tightly around my neck and lower back to keep it on me. The gold threaded embroidery on the hem showed scenes of nature in a Northern stitching style. Decorative gold chains also fell against my arms and up my back. As everyone stepped back to see a shiver went up my spine and I realized the dress was backless. I approached the mirror, turning to see the silk of the dress begin again at the dimples of my lower back.

“A bit nippy for the North,” I laughed.

“We’ll get you in that cloak soon enough,” Lady Stark smiled. “Leave us,” she ordered, all of the servants filing out. “You too,” she told her daughters. They complied with little argument and soon enough it was just the two of us. “Are you ready for the ceremony tonight?”

I blinked confusedly. “What ceremony?”

“The bedding ceremony. You didn’t know?” she asked, surprised. “Oh I’m so sorry my dear,” she placed a hand on my arm. “Lord Stark and I tried to fight it but the Lannisters insisted. Said it was tradition and was the only way to ensure the marriage.” She recognized my panicked expression, immediately going to soothe me. “No, no it’ll be alright. It’s a dull affair. Trust me, no one wants to be in that room. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Did you have one? A public bedding ceremony?” I asked.

“Well no but—”

I moved to sit down, it felt as if I couldn’t breathe. But before I could burst into tears and ruin all the prep work that was put in to making me look as flawless as possible, there was a knock on the door. My father entered, a cheery smile on his face. “There is going to be a bedding ceremony and no one told me?” I asked angrily.

His smile dropped and he sighed. “I’m sorry. Your Uncle Jamie and grandfather insisted on it. You’ll be alright, your mother and I had one. And many princes, princesses, lords, and ladies have had one before you.” Seeing as there was no time to argue or to have a breakdown I took a breath, steeling myself just as my mother had taught me in the face of adversary. “Atta girl,” he praised, seeing my now calm exterior.

I took his arm, allowing him to lead me outside. We headed to the Godswood of Winterfell, meeting the cold outside with shivers. I could not believe I let my dress be of southern influence. "Why is the wedding outside?" I asked between shivers.

"Ned said that Robb had always wanted to be married in front of the Weirwood Heart Tree. I just nodded as we reached the center of the woods.

I stood at the end of the aisle, holding my father’s arm as I faced the rest of my life standing in front of the tree. As the orchestra began I took in-sync steps with my father until I was at the end of the aisle. Robb stepped towards me, taking my hand and lead me to the Septon. “You look beautiful,” he whispered. I could not muster any words so I just gave him a small smile.

As I took my place beside Robb the Septon spoke. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Robb then took the cloak he promised me from his back, wrapping it around my shoulders with a swing, bringing both arms around me. I was grateful to feel its warmth, but it was so large and heavy it nearly slipped off my shoulders but he caught it, fastening it around my throat. He then took my hand, facing the Septon who wrapped our hands together in cloth. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Let it be known that Y/N of House Baratheon, born of Lannister, princess of the Seven Kingdoms, and Robbert of House Stark, born of Tully, the heir to the Lord of Winterfell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby sinew these two souls binding them as one for eternity,” he smiled. “Look upon one another, and say the words.”

I turned slightly, facing Robb as he did the same and we began to speak in unison. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.

“I am hers and she is mine,

“I am his and he is mine,

“From this day until the end of my days,” we finished together.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Robb declared before pulling my body to his, his arms around my waist. I reached my hand up to his face as our lips connected. When we separated I could finally hear the cheers of the Starks and their guests. Meanwhile my family clapped politely as Robb took my hand with a large grin, leading me down the aisle.

I snapped out of my daze, realizing that Robb had placed food on my plate. I rushed to thank him, hoping my mental absence wasn’t too noticeable.

A small smile formed on his face. “You’re not really one for large gatherings or ceremonies are you? At your father’s feast you stood secluded with the only person you trust. Then at our wedding you only seemed to be paying attention when you were looking at me.”

I looked down at the table, a little embarrassed. “No, not really. Embarrassing isn’t it? A princess who cannot face a crowd.”

“You’re Lady of the North now. I can handle all the formalities,” he smiled. I returned it gratefully.

As the night wore on more people came up to our table to give us congratulations and present their gifts. Robb spoke mostly, always gracious. He was already a great leader.

“So my mother tells me you were a bit blindsided by the bedding ceremony?” he asked. I looked down at my lap, fiddling with the table cloth. “I cannot believe your relatives would be so cruel to not tell you it was happening.”

“I think they were cruel to suggest it in the first place. Although I think they didn’t tell me for fear that I’d run away,” I laughed. Robb joined me.

“It’ll be alright, and please don’t judge my capabilities as your husband from tonight alone. I have no intentions of being a selfish lover but I am told we cannot leave until I finish. They don’t expect you too…”

“Right, of course,” I agreed, placing my hand on top of his. “Do whatever you need to get us out of there as quickly as possible.”

A new presence in front of us interrupted our deal-making. “It’s time,” my mother announced. I nodded, standing up with a shaky breath. I followed her through Winterfell until we reached a remote room. “Remember, just lie back it will all be over soon,” she advised me. As much as she held resentment for her first daughter being Robert’s child as well, she still held some love for her daughter and couldn’t help but pity the poor girl who was about to go through the most traumatic experience of her life.

“But mother, what if I don’t bleed like I’m supposed to?” I cried, terrified of what they would do to me.

“Not everyone bleeds,” Cersei assured me. “I didn’t and I still became Queen. You will be fine. Now go.”

I wanted to cry as the doors opened. Inside was a single “bed.” It being merely a mattress on top of a bed frame with no coverings to shield myself aside from a sheet meant to display the loss of my virginity. Several men lined the walls of the room, there to assure the consummation of my marriage. I recognized all the Lannister men as well as Lord Stark and cringed as I saw my father. But my heart sunk when I found Sandor’s gaze. I didn’t want him to have to see this.

A lower lord waved his hand over to the bed, gesturing for me to get in. I began to crawl onto it when a voice stopped me. “Disrobe, girl,” I heard a man sneer. I burned with humiliation as I was forced to remove the beautiful dress within everyone’s view, leaving me vulnerable to a few greedy men’s gaze.

I laid on the bed, trying my best to cover myself with my hands, refusing to look anyone in the face.

Soon enough the door opened again and Robb entered, looking nervous as well. But I watched him steel himself as he marched confidently over to my bed, stripping off his armor as he went. By the time he stood next to the bed he was bare as well, his cock standing up already.

Also wanting to get this over with, he swung his body up onto the bed, his hips hovering just above mine. I could feel his cock already pressing against my most intimate areas.

Robb leaned down as if to kiss me but whispered “I’m sorry,” first. His lips met mine before he quickly reached down to guide himself inside of me. I gasped in pain as he pressed into my completely dry hole.

He began to thrust quickly while I heard myself let out soft whimpers of pain. I tried to recede back into my mind but was unsuccessful as the pain was too much. I even heard myself beg him to stop a few times. But Robb would just lean down and whisper something about almost being done. He would continue chasing his pleasure as he tried to complete the task so we could both retire for the night.

Desperate for help I glanced around the room, not thinking clearly as I should have known that these men would not help me. Most of their gazes were almost bored, focusing on where Robb and I were connected in order to verify our union. I noticed a few lustful gazes from lords whose names I did not know. When I found Sandor I noticed his disassociated expression, something I did not blame him for.

Soon enough I heard Robb groan in my ear before I felt something I had never experienced. Robb released his ropes of cum inside of me, allowing his seed to coat my walls in hopes I would produce him an heir.

He stilled inside of me for a moment, not pulling out until he caught his breath. When he did I felt his seed trickle out of me and I looked down in between my legs, relieved to find blood. In their eyes my virginity had been taken even though the real deflowerer was acting as an observer.

Before I was allowed to move, Robb crawled off of me, quickly finding his pants. Next the King, my father, stood up to observe the proof of our consummation between my legs. I knew it was because he was the king but I still felt that he shouldn’t have to be the one to confirm.

He merely glanced quickly, giving me the slightest bit of dignity before dismissing the men. They all filed out as a maid came, bringing me a silk robe. I took it graciously, standing up so she could take the sheet.

Once I was sure the men had all cleared from the immediate hallways I ran out, desperate to find Sandor before someone sent me to Robb’s chambers.

Masterlist | Part II

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