#robb stark x roslin frey

[dalekofchaos]

How Robb could've won the North's independence

Realistically, it would be impossible for Robb to win the War of the Five Kings unless he teamed up with Stannis or somehow got married to Margaery Tyrell(Robb goes to treat with Renly instead of Cat, Renly dies and Robb convinces the Tyrells to join forces, only condition:marry Margaery). But it would've been possible to win The North's Independence.

Before we get into the how he could win, let's look into how and why Robb lost.

Sending Theon to Pyke. The beginning of the end. On one level Robb was right to trust Theon, because we see from Theon's POV chapters that he intended to stay true to Robb's cause…. up until his father rejected him and sent him to reave the West coast and Moat Callin with the other Ironborn. It's only after Theon has been rejected by his father and forced to serve on a ship with another captain (putting the heir to the seastone chair lower in rank than a battle commander) that Theon cracks and decides to do something big to prove he is a worthy heir to Balon Greyjoy. But Cat is also right: because she expected that something could go wrong. Now, she expected that Theon would betray Robb from the off, because she has a nasty suspicious streak and really assumes the worst about everybody - think of all the times she bleats that Jon can't stay at Winterfell as he'll usurp Robb's rights, and ask yourself: has there been any indication that Jon would ever do this? No. Jon could have worked his way up to captain of the Winterfell guard as a Stark bastard, and Robb would have been better protected by his much loved brother than anyone else. But because Cat is so deeply entrenched in her belief that bastards are grasping stealers of birthright, she cannot allow that possibility to even be discussed. Same thing happens with Theon. Cat knows more about Ironborn culture than Robb, and she appreciates that Theon has been a Stark prisoner for years whereas Robb unfortunately thinks of Theon as another adopted brother. But she fails to adequately explain to Robb that her concerns about Theon are not about Theon's character per se, but about Ironborn culture. She anticipates that something could go wrong - she doesn't see exactly what happens to turn Theon against the Starks, but she had enough knowledge of the Ironborn to make a case to Theon and Robb that Balon Greyjoy was a cantankerous old prick who would not be willing to provide a naval fleet to a king he has no interest in pledging his loyalty to in any case.

Not Informing His Uncle of His Plans: Edmure threw back the Lannister forces at the Battle of the Fords. Because of this, Robb is unable to encircle Tywin's host, as he had hoped to surround and capture them further within the Riverlands. I'm not so sure that Robb actually had that "plan" in Riverrun. I think he hammered out the details of the trap somewhere in the West, and didn't think Edmure would interpret differently. As to the trap itself: oh no, Tywin's cause would have been lost for sure. If he delayed for even a few hours, he'd be late to the rescue of King's Landing - Lannister Plot ArmorTM struck again. And the thing is, if he crossed the Trident, he'd be caught between Robb, Edmure and Roose - you can forget about the Red Wedding then: Roose and Walder are dipshits for sure, but they're above all opportunistic dipshits. With Tywin caught between 3 different forces, at least one of which - Robb - is way, way better at guerilla hill-war that Tywin (who never seems to win anything unless he outnumbers his enemy at least 2:1), that's it for the Lannister army. Meanwhile, Stannis takes KL, but keeps pissing off everyone with his charming personality, so his reinforcements are dubious. But Stannis is a man of honor and of his word and he would've given the Starks Sansa. Dorne would be pleased that Tywin and the Mountain dies and extends an alliance with The North. The Tyrells just fuck off in Highgarden. The Ironborn are dealt with and would be at death's door until Euron returns. Stannis has Varys and Littlefinger executed and Lysa just sulks with Sweetrobin in The Eyrie. The Starks regain The North and the Starks reunite and most importantly Robb is the one who goes to the Wall and helps prepare the North for The Others.

Beheading Rickard Karstark: Karstark, feeling the need for vengeance due to his son's deaths, slaughters prisoners of war Tion Frey and Willem Lannister. Due to this act, Robb sentences Karstark to death and beheads him personally. This leads to the Karstark' abandoning ship and heading home. Rickard and the Karstarks had been some of, if not, his most loyal vassals. When Ned was imprisoned and Robb called his banners Rickard answered bringing as many men as he could unlike many other Northern Lords who held back men in reserve for their own interests. Or the Umbers who threatened to go home unless he got his way and had to be threatened to stay and help Robb free his father. When Winterfell was captured and Bran and Rickon's lives endangered the Karstarks were one of the few Northern Houses to send men despite the large distance to Winterfell. Despite all this, despite the fact that two of Rickards sons were killed as they were protecting Robb from Jaime Lannister, or his heir was captured being sent into a battle that Robb knew they were going to lose Robb still gave Rickard Karstark the harshest punishment he could instead of being lenient like his own advisers suggested and keeping him prisoner or sending him to the Wall. Now this move was especially stupid as the remnants of the 2,000 Karstark foot was with Roose. Robb was actually worried about them turning on Bolton, which was a real possibility, but instead they worked with Roose to take down Robb at the Red Wedding. Would Roose have had the confidence to act without those Karstark numbers? Being lenient with Rickard might have still lost those Karstark men but they would never have helped in the Red Wedding. Karstark sacrificed a lot and while killing those two Lannisters was bad, no one would have cared if it had been on the battlefield. Their age has little to do with it, both sides would have had casualties of similar ages in the battles.

Marrying Jeyne Westerling: Robb was betrothed to a daughter of Walder Frey; however, this act broke that vow, thus leading to the Frey's feeling betrayed and withdrawing home. This act of defiance towards the Frey's is later paid in kind via the Red Wedding.

With that out of the way, here is how Robb could've won The North's Independence.

If we’re looking at deposing Joffrey and extinguishing the Royal Branch of House Baratheon-Lannister, then no. Too many riches, lords, and men support them for the Stark/Tully coalition to mount an offensive. They’d be enveloped, surrounded and destroyed.

If we’re looking at the independence of the North, then its possible, but Robb is going to have to do some unpleasant/unhonorable things, because here’s the ultimate goal:

Getting behind Moat Calin and fortifying for the Winter.

If Robb can do that, then he’s pretty much untouchable.

So, how do we get there?

First things first, don’t tie the knot with Talisa/Westerling and marry Roslin Frey like he agreed to. That stupid marriage should never have happened in the first place.

Eddard Stark survived the stain of a “bastard.” Robb can too, which may not even be a problem since Westerling never became pregnant (probably due to her mother). Robb marrying for love was so out of character that we’re just setting aside the Talisa incident.

Next, its time to get the Northern Alliance some breathing room for their strategic retreat.

Robb needs to recognize that Edmere is an idiot and needs his uncle Blackfish to watch over his shoulder the whole time. If he does so, then Robb’s cannon plan in season 3 works. The Mountain and his Ravagers are drawn out of Harrenhal, surrounded and annihilated.

That not only deals a blow to Lannister prestige, but also wins them brownie points with the Brotherhood Without Banners. Enough so that maybe they let Robb know that they have his sister.

That with a nice sack of cash will firmly place the BWB on the Stark side, so long as Robb can keep his Northmen in line. They are going to be the Stark’s eyes and ears as well as turn the Riverlands into the Spanish Ulcer for the Lannisters.

Which brings us to Karstark.

At the beginning of season three, the Kingslayer is gone, so Karstark goes berserk as a result. Instead of beheading the man, Robb should parlay with him instead. Use his anger to help with the retreat, while at the same time, put him in overwhelming situations where a stray arrow or well-timed blade may get through his guard.

In other words, suicide by Lannister.

Karstark won’t notice, he’s too bloodmad, his focus will solely be on killing Lannisters. The problem will eventually resolve itself. And if not, mayhaps the BwB can help, for another sack of cash of course.

So now Robb has his space.

The BwB and Karstark are disrupting the Lannister/Tyrell logistics, inflicting lop-siding losses on demoralized and green Lannister/Tyrell levies (most of Lord Tywin’s professional force was either wiped out at the Whispering Woods or at Blackwater and the Tryrell “impressive” force of 80,000 are farmhands who’ve never seen a blade in their life).

Now comes the hard part, withdrawing the Riverlords and what’s left of their men behind the Moat.

After two years of war, the Riverlords have maybe 15–20 thousand men left. Add on to Robb’s own 15,000 Northmen, and Robb can command an impressive 30,000 battle hardened soldiers.

And every one of those men are needed in the North:

To remove the Ironborn.

To fortify the Moat, the White Knife, and the Stoney Shore.

To deal with the Wildlings, Stannis, and ultimately, the White Walkers.

But the Riverlords are stubborn. They don’t want to abandon their homes to the Lannisters. Who would? Moreover, to abandon their homes to fight a supposedly Northern problem? That’s adding insult to injury.

Hence why marrying Roslin is so important. It means that Robb can’t just pack up and go home. He is now permanently tied to the survival of the Riverlands.

The marriage carries a promise: that Robb will return. Just as Doug MacArthur returned to the Philippines.

Combine that with parting with 5000 men to garrison the strategic and symbolic castles throughout the Riverlands (Riverrun, Oldstones, The Crossroads, the Twins, and Seagard), Robb and the Tullys command the displayed area:

With all three forks of the Trident under the Stark Banner, the Starks can send constant supplies, provisions, and ferry BwB raiding parties. The long-ships they need to navigate the forks can easily be supplied by the ironwood of House Forrestor and designed by captured Ironborn in exchange for clemency.

In canon, The Blackfish claimed that Riverrun could hold out for two years, and that was with an unprepared Riverrun. With a proper strategic retreat, a proper supply route along the three forks, that time frame for Riverrun and all other hard nuts in this system could be raised to near indefinite, or at least until Winter hits.

Until Gunpowder came around, it was almost nearly impossible to take castles. The loss of life in an assault was just too much for farmhand levies. The only way to break a castle is through a siege, and well supplied Trident prevents such castles from starving out.

So, by leaving behind say 5000 men, using the Lannister plunder Robb acquired from his expedition west for payment and loyalty, maximizing the continued harassment and disruption by the BwB, and taking advantage of impetuous, but slow thinking lords looking for glory and blood, the Riverlands could hold out until at least Winter, at which points all sides would have to retire.

Its a stalling game, basically.

Now, with that secured, Robb will then take the remaining 10–15 thousand Rivermen with him North to deal with the Ironborn. Which is a piece of cake, since most already left for the Kingsmoot, and while being incredibly skilled sailors and marines, fighting on the Green Land makes them worthless.

Winterfell is secured (unfortunately still razed), the North is liberated, and the Southern choke points are fortified with the Rivermen:

The warmer climate is better suited for them.

It keeps them close to the Riverlands just in case the Lannisters/Tyrells attempt to make an incursion.

That will then allow Robb to use his reinforced 20,000 battle-harden Northern Banner Army to force Mance Rayder into submission.

Unlike Jon Snow, Robb will clearly explain to everyone that a potentially treacherous Wilding is infinitely superior to a definite enemy wight among the White Walker force.

As for the Wildlings, Robb uses Jon Snow and Mance Rayder to keep them in line as they in turn man the Wall and reap up the final harvest before Winter sets in.

As for Stannis, without a proper logistics network (The Nights Watch and the North will not help him), his mercenary army either dies or defects to Robb.

Stannis is imprisoned, Melisandre either stays to help Robb and Jon or runs away.

While the North digs in for the fight at the Wall, the events of the South happen as they do in cannon:

Joffrey is murdered.

Tyrion is blamed and flees.

Sansa disappears to the Vale.

Tywin is killed by his own son.

Cersei single handily destroys the Lannister/Tyrell Alliance.

The Faith Militant rises and imprisons everybody.

Euron wins the Salt Throne and begins ravaging the Reach.

FAegon invades and secures the Stormlands.

With the South in such chaos, the incursions into the Trident diminish, as Lannister, Tryrell, Dorne, Ironborn, and FAegon are too busy fighting each other.

The line of supply along the Trident is strengthened by the spoils of war that came with Stannis, and Stannis’ mercenaries are sent South to warmer climates and better opportunities for plunder.

Sansa, who by now has become a political player in her own right, tricks Sweet Robin into declaring for Robb, and rallies the Knights of the Vale to the Stark Banner.

Who knows, maybe even taking out Littlefinger in the process.

So now Robb’s dominion looks like this:

His army around Moat Calin and South now compose of:The ~5000 Garrison of Rivermen. The 10–15,000 Rivermen ready to march. The ~1000 Partisans of the Brotherhood. The fresh 40,000 Knights of the Vale. The 6000 mercenaries that abandoned Stannis.

Meanwhile up North, Robb with his 20,000, the 50,000 Wildlings, and remnants of the Night’s Watch are ready to fight a grueling war of attrition against the Walkers at the Wall.

And if Tycho Nestoris is aware of the White Walker threat, then Robb’s got Bravoos’ armory and the Iron Bank on his side as well.

Robb doesn’t need to beat the South into submission. Not anymore. Arya is safe in Winterfell. Rickon is safe at Skagos. Bran is missing, but NOT in the South, and Sansa now commands the Vale with Yohn Royce.

All he has to do is hold out, using Darry, Riverrun, and the Oldstones as choke points.

The Royal Navy was destroyed at Blackwater. The Iron Fleet and Redwyne Navy annihilated each other when Euron went South, so the choke points can’t be bypassed.

Robb has won defacto independence.

Assuming they survive the Long Night and the rest of Winter, then Robb can coalesce his forces and reclaim the God’s Eye Basin, thus maintaining his pledge and duty to the Riverlords and increasing his prestige.

And the South will still be too divided to mount a proper counter offensive.

A treaty is eventually signed with whoever is left and Robb wins his independence, and with the wealth of a restored Riverlands, and untouched Vale and revitalized North, becomes the most powerful man in Westeros.

And if Robb listens to Roose Bolton more, explains himself to him, and rewards him for his victories, it may be enough to dissuade him from betraying him. After all, Roose is a pragmatic man, and will always back the winning side.

Robb was no longer on the winning side when he married Jeyne Westerling, executed Karstark, and lost Winterfell, the seat of his authority. If he plays his cards right, and doesn’t restrict himself with his honor, he could avoid the first two and quickly rectify the third, thus snagging victory from defeat.

The South was unified with the marriage of Margarey/Joffrey and the iron hand of Lord Tywin. Kill the union and the Hand, and you kill the alliance. And then, the war looks a whole lot less hopeless for the Starks.

And since Robb is now the most powerful man in Westeros AND has married Roslin Frey, the Late Walder Frey may be hesitant with his blade.

Justice has been restored. The North, the Vale and the Riverlands stand united. The Red Wedding never happens. The Starks are reunited and they fight off the Long Night and bring peace to the realm.

THE KING IN THE NORTH!

[helianthus22]

Chapters: 31/? Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Sansa Stark/Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, past!Aemond One-Eye/Alys Rivers, toxic!Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Joffrey Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell, Roslin Frey/Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Val, Stannis Baratheon/Melisandre, Edric "Ned" Dayne/Arya Stark Characters: Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Catelyn Stark, Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Bran Stark, Summer | Bran Stark's Direwolf, Nymeria | Arya Stark's Direwolf, Grey Wind | Robb Stark's Direwolf, Vhagar (ASoIaF), Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Lancel Lannister, Petyr Baelish, lord varys, Daenerys Targaryen, Margaery Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell, Davos Seaworth, Stannis Baratheon, Melisandre, Great Jon Umber, Alerie Tyrell, Mentioned Alys Rivers - Character, Mentioned Rhaenyra Targaryen - Character, mentioned all characters of House of the Dragon Additional Tags: Time Travel AU, Firesteel reversal, AU, Crossover House of the Dragon/Game of thrones, Dark Romance, darksansa, darkAemond Summary:

Take heed, you bear in mind the piety you owe unto your country and unto your countrymen, whose slaughter by the treachery of thy blood oath be your disgrace everlasting. Unless you press hardily forward to defend them.

Prince of black and prince of green met across the skies, but only death can pay for life.

Lions and Wolves were dancing a dance he had known before, in glory and clay and steel crowned. The Young Wolf, they said, has fished from the waters a dragonprince of old.

Of the daughter of Winterfell they said she had killed him with a spell, changed into a wolf, grew batlike wings and flew away.

”The Iron throne shall be mine,“ claimed the dragonprince ”and House Stark shall stand behind me and mine“

”My hand for the North,“ said the brave princess and the dragonprince took her hand for his.

At last, she that is oppressed shall prevail, and resist the cruelty of them that came from without. The islands of the ocean shall be subdued onto his power, and the forest of goal shall he possess. The house of the lion shall dread the fierceness of his prowess, and doubtful shall be their end.

— from History of the Kings of the Iron throne by Archimaester Arkibald.

[myladysapphire]

Duty

Robb Stark had kept his oath to house Frey and married you as a result allowing him to win the north’s independence however he now has to live with the sacrifices of duty and must find out if duty is truly the death of love.

word count: 3,992

CW: MDI 18+, slight smut, p in v, angst, arranged marriage, infidelity, childbirth, unhealthy dynamic, toxic relationship? open ending, pregancy, not proofread!

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Masterlist | part two

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Duty.

The word rang in your head as you stared at your husband.

He was yours; you were his but as his eyes wandered across the hall you knew he was not entirely yours.

A mere hour into your marriage and you already felt the strain of an unfaithful husband.

The longing looks he gave her form across the room were the looks you had wished to feel.

You were the youngest daughter of Walder Frey and his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby, and though your older sister Roslin was often called beautiful, you were considered beautiful. It was the one-word Robb stark had said when he saw you, the only word he had said to you beside your wedding vows.

He hadn’t even spared you a glance since the ceremony, most of your conversations had been with his mother, Catelyn. She had been kind, having been the one that choose you as his bride. But you knew it was not your beauty that she chose you for, it helped of course, pleasing Robb if only by a little. You were neither smart, cunning or wise. You were simple normal, with no special skills to sway the eyes of suitors or to persuade your husband. She choose you, the often forgotten daughter, with no influence or means to gain any, for that reason alone.

It was clear to anyone the marriage and alliance was an unwanted one. Especially to your husband and the woman he loved.

He did not dance with you once, offering no words beside the necessary pleasantries, the kindest act he seemed to do was forbade the bedding ceremony. Though there was little bedding done that night, though the act was done, he neither spoke a word to her or stayed the night. And from the whispers she heard the next day it seemed he had gone to her swiftly after.

He had left after that, though he did not say goodbye, or offer to write to you. You were simply left with his mother, set to journey to the Winterfell.

The journey as not long, taking less than two weeks before you saw the peak of Winterfell’s towers. It was a wonderful sight, having never left the twins, and rarely being allowed outside. Seeing the castle of Winterfell was a freeing experience. There seemed to be endless halls, some bare and empty allowing the privacy you had never once had in the twins. The god’s woods was even more magnificent than you had expected, it expanded for acres, with endless trees and countless springs waring both the gods woods and the castle. You felt some peace here, but you had also never felt more alone.

You were looked at as an outsider, talked to as one, and it was clear you were unwanted.

As the moons passed, you felt even more alone, you only heard about Robbs victory through his mother, the one person who didn’t talk to you with resentment.

Then you realised you had yet to bleed since your wedding.

And the word duty once again rang in your head.

You were pregnant, a fact that made you seemed more welcome, people were kinder to you. And yet you felt more alone, suddenly surrounded by people who only cared for you know you cared the heir.

The heir to a man you did not know, the heir to a man who scorned you on the day of your wedding for another woman. He didn’t even have the respect to at least act like a loyal husband.

You had done your duty, but he had not.

For it seemed she was also pregnant.

You were far along in your pregnancy, near eight moons when you heard the news. The news that was accompanied by your husband’s victory. And the norths independence. Yet you felt little joy only envy at the news of her pregnancy. Envy that she gets to know him and he never once tried to let you know him, even in the fleeting hours they did have together.

The next month was lively, the keep full of servants and lords from all over the north preparing for their kings arrival. The planning of feasts and several other northern events to be held. And you did not know what to think, you had long craved to know your husband, but he seemed to want to forget you even existed, and even more so when he arrived, with her on his arm and a babe in hers.

You bowed your head, clutching your belly protectively as if their presence would harm the babe somehow, and greeted him “husband.” You spoke plainly, not in joy, nor as a move of possessiveness towards her.

He nodded his head, going to greet you in the same fashion but stopping himself at the sight of your belly. “wife” he said in shock, as if the very idea of you being pregnant or here for that matter was shocking.

You smiled, a forced smile and spoke softly, “come, husband we have much to discuss”

She had stayed put, looking lost among the faces of Winterfell.

Though you had started out a stranger those first few months, after your pregnancy was announced, though you had at first received false pleasantries to win your favour, a time that made you feel even more alone. Now you felt rather comforted by the halls and the people with in it.

You took your time to win over the people inside the walls, though you never felt that you could truly be yourself ,as you did not know entirely who you were anymore, but none the less, you no longer felt like a stranger, even Catelin had even started to heavily involve you into the running of Winterfell, and her kindness became truer to you, even more so when news of your husbands bastard spread.

Your basic and natural kind behaviour had one the loyalty of many of the people of the north as they sneered at her, shunning her away as they welcomed the victors back from war.

And from the kind smiles you received as you walked the halls to your chambers, chambers the lord and lady of Winterfell had traditionally shared. It had not crossed your mind about were you would know sleep. Never having shared the bed with another, not knowing what it is to share a bed, let alone with a man. It was also your belongings that filled the room, your tapestries and art, your nicknacks and clothes. His had either gone with him or remained in his old chambers, but know she supposed he was fully with in his rights to move in and perhaps even throw her out.

She did not know if he weas cruel enough to do so, or kind enough to let her stay. You only knew of him through the view of others, mainly his mother. An opinion you held   with restraint, seeing as what mother would not love her son.

He stared at you awkwardly once you entered the room, the realisation of never once talking alone coming to light for you both.

“your with child?” he asked after a moment.

You snorted “of course” you said “though I doubt you care much, seeing as you already have a babe”

“i…” he looked down ashamed, “I do care, though….though we barley know one another… I am your husband”

You snorted again, “really? And where exactly has my husband been? Not once have you acted like one, the only husbandly act you had done was to take my maidenhead!” you were mad, for so long you had been nice and kind, acting as if you cared not for his actions and now months of anger was finally spilling out of you.

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, especially as one of the first things you had said to him.

“i…I you are right?” he said, clearly unsure of what exactly to say, “I should have said something to you, told you of Talisa”

Talisa.

So that was her name.

“or at least have waited until after we were- “

“until it wasn’t our wedding day?

“yes” he looked down, “though I… I will admit I do not regret loving her”

Loving her.

Hearing it hurt, though you supposed you had to right to feel hurt.

You huffed, your eyes downcast, “must you admit it so freely? I understand we do not know each other, that you did not want this marriage, but it is our duty, and I…” you took a deep breath, looking up at him “I want respect, I want to be treated like a wife, and not” you couldn’t bring her self to say it, you were a woman scorned, scorned by your husband and yet he was a stranger, and in his eyes you hadn’t earns the respect you deserved. “…not like-“ you didn’t say it, he did.

“Like a duty?” He looked at you, “because that’s all that you are, a duty” he seemed to sneer “I once desired a marriage of love and then I was told I would have to marry a Frey” he hissed the name, ‘at first I hoped to find love with my wife, a wife I would not little say in, then I met her” you knew he didn’t mean you, how could he? “Talisa” he whispered “I love her more than I thought possible, and then I met you.” He shook his head “ you are beautiful, more so than she I will admit that, but I do not love you, and I very much doubt I ever will.”

“Why?” You asked, stopping him before he could saying anything more.

He swallowed “how can i? I do not know you-“

“Then get to know me!” You interrupted, moving closer to him, “we are to have a child of our own soon, do you not want to know its mother?”

He shook his head, “let me finish.” He spoke sternly, causing you to step back again.”I do not know if I want to know you, I have her and she for months was all I needed…” he stopped talking then, looking at you, as if hoping you would interrupt despite his words.

“And now i… she had a babe, our babe, a girl. And perhaps some part of me feels And perhaps some part of me the guilt of loving her, despite my duty to you.”

You shook your head, “I am your wife, you should feel more-“ you clutched your belly in pain, as a contraction hit.

 “are you alright?” He asked moving to you.

“I have been having them all day, it is nothing to worry about” you said as you shook it off only to be hit with another contraction.

“Are they meant to come that close together?” He asked worry clear in his voice.

You sneered “I don’t know you’re the one with a bastard, weren’t you there went she gave birth?”

“I… no we haven’t been together since the wedding”

You laughed “oh Im so sorry our marriage was such a inconvenience for your mistress”

He said nothing at that, leading you to believe that perhaps he wanted to continue his relationship with her and she was the one to stop it.

“I’ll fetch the midwives” he spoke suddenly, leaving before you could say anything.

Soon you were on your bed, a midwife between your legs telling you to push.

It was just you and them, woman you had never met, wishing you had met your mother so that she could be here for you and not strangers.

And it seemed the gods were cruel as they sent her in, she walked in saying she was a healer and was simply there to help, and by the worried looks the midwives gave her it seemed you needed it.

She went to touch you, and you flinched back.

“No” you whispered.

“The babe is breached” she said hoping to sway you, but the constant shaking of your head caused her to bite her lip a concerned look filling her face “I have experienced with breached briths, I can help you” she insisted.

“No” you simply said again, but this time she ignored your pleas, moving to sit on the bed and take your hand in hers.

You tried to pull your hand back but she only held on tighter, and leaned in.

“Please let me help you” she begged “neither of us want to be in this situation and I am only trying to help you”

“What so the gods aren’t cruel on you as they have been on me?”

She laughed “sort of I suppose, but also because I have caused you enough pain and wish to mend it.”

You looked at her, she was sincere, it seemed she too hated the situation they were both in, trapped feeling like the other woman, “fine” you gritted out.

She nodded “I need to move the babe” she said placing her hand on your belly and started to turn the babe.

The pain was terrible, the want to push and being unable to and the feeling of you babe moving inside of you, and then finally she said you could push, after that is was swift, and before you knew it cries filled the room, and your baby was placed in your arms, a boy, an heir.

“Congratulations” Talisa breathed, “he looks just like you” she said softly, you smiled nodding you head. He did, he lacked all the Tully features Robb ware, though it was clear the stark genes that skipped him wen to the babe, as he had a tuft of Black hair, and a part of you hoped for the grey eyes most Starks bore. But other than that he was every bit yours, your eyes and nose, he was all you.

“Should we fetch the king?” A midwife asked, and you shook you head,

“no, he knows I am here, let him come to me.” You said, as Talisa went to stand, “thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled “just because we are tied in the same way does not mean we must hate one another” she said, looking at you kindly, and you hoped she was right, because you hated the envy you felt towards her.

“We shall speak on this soon, but for now I shall rest” you said, focusing your attention back on your son.

“Of course,” she nodded. Leaving the room.

Robb did not visit you for ten days. No one did really.

It was just you and your son, Cregan. A stark name, though not a common one, you may know little history but the little you did know was about the dance of the dragons, and about Cregan stark. He was your honourable and loyal, traits you would raise your son with.

“Hello” you heard suddenly, as you Cregan was placed in your arms.

It was robb.

“Finally come to meet your child?” You sneered.

“I apologise” he whispered, coming towards you and looking down at your child. “I had matters to deal with”

“of course” you nodded not that you could see how he had not once found the time to visit you and your child.

“I here you named him Cregan” he spoke, softly smiling down at your son.

“yes, I thought it to be a good stark name.”

He nodded, caressing the babes head. “I had hoped to name him Eddard, or Ned…. After my father” he said softly.

“Was that what you were going to name your daughter had she been a boy?” You asked, though your tone was neither dripped with envy or anger, you had said it so nonchalantly, as if you cared not for the answer.

Both the question and your behaviour confused him, he did not know what to make of you, your personality, or how to even start a marriage with you. Or even if he wanted to have one with you. “Yes” he mumbled, “though we ended up naming her Minisa, after my mothers mother” he spoke with such a tenderness, and you realised you could never compete with her, no matter how kind she was, you hated her.

Hated that she was the only reason you could never know your husband, who he was and what he liked. How he looked when you woke up beside him or how it felt for him to hold you lovingly. Your heart broke at the future you would never have.

“Leave” you demanded, pulling Cregan away from Robb. As if Robb being close to him would hurt him the same way Robb being apart from you, had hurt you.

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“I can’t do this” you said, “I can’t, every moment of our marriage has been shadowed by here, I am your wife, not her”

“gods, I know that, and I hate it” he angry spoke back, “we both know neither of us had a choice in who we marry!”

“but you have a choice in who you love, why not try and love me!”

“Because you’ll never be her” He pulled back completely, “I do not want to know you, I only ever wanted her and I will only ever choose her.”

“then leave!” you spoke as tears fell down your face, “I will move out and into one of your over holdings as soon as I am able, and we will not have to put up with this farce any longer”

“good.”

And just like that any hope for a marriage was lost, your son would only know your face and not his fathers for years to come.

As the years passed your rarely saw your husband. With Cregan now five, all hopes of giving him another sibling had disappeared, as you and Robb could scarcely spend longer than a few minutes in a room together.

And though Cregan got along well enough with his siter, Minisa, a part of you resented her. Resented how she was Robbs whole world and Cregan wasn’t.

perhaps it was because you had pushed him away so thoroughly.

That your relation to his heir caused him to resent your son in turn.

And perhaps he hated you more now that Talisa had passed.

The birth of their second child had killed both mother and babe.

Robb had raged.

For months he seemed to only act in anger.

And then it all stopped.

He seemed to return to normal, expect he know insisted he do his duty to you.

Duty.

You hated the word.

Especially as you lay now on the bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you and your moans filling the room.

There was no emotion but hate in the way he fucked you. As if you were the very reason for her death.

As if you were the guilty one in the marriage, when all you had ever done was your duty. As if you existing had caused her death, as if you had killed her and not the winter sickness.

He seemed to fuck you as if you had killed her, pounding into you at a relentless pace.

There was no part about it that could make it seem like he was making love to you.

Not as he bent you over a desk, or pushed you to the floor and hicked up your dress.

Or as he barged into your room as your maids were preparing you for bed, dismissed them and instantly started fucking you.

You hated it. But you also loved it.

Hated how gave you every opportunity to top him, and not once had you.

You happily let him fuck you.

Enjoying the touch of your husband.

The pleasure of sex.                     

“fuck” he groaned as he came, releasing you from his vice like grip.

He rested his head against yours, catching his breath.

It was rare he fucked you on your back, often choosing you to face away from him as he fucked you.

You pulled back from him awkwardly, waiting for what always happened next.

Him leaving.

But this time he didn’t leave.

Perhaps it was because it had been over a year since her death, over a year since her name was mentioned.

Perhaps he had somehow forgiven you for whatever crime you had committed against him in his head.

He had been more…pleasant?

He had been able to spend time in your company without shouting or yelling at you for no reason.

He had had spent more time with his son, though perhaps that had been because you had taken his daughter under your care.

It hurt almost to care for her but apart of you loved her. Having always wanted a daughter for yourself, and for so long believing you would only ever have your son, Cregan. She was the image of her father, with little trace or her mother on her features. She was quite and shy though she liked you. Perhaps it was because Talisa had always been kind to you, at least to your face.

“the maester tells me you are pregnant” he spoke, as he moved to lie beside you.

“what?” you asked in shock. You had only just found out for yourself this morning.

He sighed, turning to look at you, “he said you were pregnant, about three moons” he said as he moved to make himself comfortable in your bed. “i..yes I am…I only just found out this morning”

“as did I”

It was awkward, neither of you knew how to talk to the other. Neither of you had cared to try until now.

you too moved to make yourself comfortable, tucking your self into bed, and turning your back to him. He sighed before moving towards you, blowing out the candle and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“sleeping with my wife” he said as if it was obvious. You had never shared a bed with a man, and feeling him pressed against you felt strange. It wasn’t comforting, nor was it uncomfortable.

“oh”

“oh?” he mimicked.

“why?”

“well…we are husband and wife it is time we started acting as such”

You huffed, “ we have been husband and wife for nearly six years now and not once have you slept in my bed.

“well that’s going to change” he said, and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

The next few months had been so different from the previous years.

Though you had not stopped your previous duties as lady of Winterfell. It seemed now with Robb instant on being a dotting husband you had more duties.

He had moved into your chambers, though you supposed they were rightfully his.

He insisted on taking all your meals together, walking in the gods woods every day together.

He had become kind, and for those few moons you thought perhaps you could grow to tolerate his misgivings and be husband and wife.

Then he called you, “Talisa”

He had said it in passing, not even noticing it at first. And then he saw how your froze and realised his mistake.

He had sighed your name in apology.

But you had ignored him. And realised that perhaps it would be better, not to have hope that you were more than a duty to Robb.

That to him you would never be her. Never be the wife he wanted, only his duty.

It didn’t matter how much he liked to play pretend. Giving you flowers and sweet kisses on your cheek. Deep down you knew you could never forgive him, never find the love and happiness you had long craved, that you deserved.

That you would be a wife of duty, and love was always the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

And he would never stop loving her.

authors note: this took me 3 weeks to write because i couldn’t figure out to make it have a happy ending. it was far to angsty and i couldn’t justify her forgiving him.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld RAYNETARGARYEN2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos

to be added to taglist

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lilly (Part 1)

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader (F)

Enemies To lovers

Summary: Y/N Frey (reader) is the youngest daughter of Walder Frey, her mother being just another woman who died in childbirth, here she learns about her union with Robb Stark, King of the North, and she’s more then displeased of the sudden arrangement, but when she looks into his eyes for the first time. Now that’s something.

warnings: alcohol consumption, forced marriage

i fear i don’t know what i’m doing ISNT PROOFREAD also switched out from “You/your “ pronouns and “She/Her”

this was all pre written in my notes w my OC’s name and without “Y/N”/ & or You so i apologise if u do see a random girls name that’s not Y/N or You lmao (unless you’re your actual name) x

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Y/N stirred awake, blotches of orange and pink sunlight spilling into the room through the curtains, she fluttered her eyelids as she made sense of her surrounds as always, this was the cold, stone room she called home. The bed was cold and stiff, much like the Twins, but the warmth of morning softened the chill in the air. She lay there for a moment, blinking up at the heavy wooden beams on the ceiling, and sighed deeply. She missed Dorne. The dusty winds and golden sands, the gardens that spilled over with sweet-scented blooms, and the warm laughter that lingered in the air, all of it was so different from the grim and graying walls of her father’s keep.

She was born in the river lands in the Twins to her mother, Lady Frey, who unfortunately passed away from childbirth, another forgotten face who lost their battle on the battlefield of the bed. As a youngling, Walder Frey sent her of to Dorne, where her mother had been born and brought up. Though, technically her mother was of Myrish descent, who just happened to be one of those descendants of immigrants who crossed the narrow sea for work. That’s how Y/N’s mothers side ended up in Dorne with no actual dorneish blood. Y/N was mixed, which was uncommon in Westeros, since Essosi’s and Westerosi’s did not mix all the well, and it was worse when Y/N’s features took favour to her mother, atleast she didn’t look as boring or unappetising as her sisters (though Roslin has always been beautiful.)

She sat up, wrapping her arms around herself as a handmaid poked her head through the door. “Good morning, my lady,” the maid greeted with a small bow. “Shall I draw your bath?”

Y/N nodded, her thoughts drifting as the maids bustled around, bringing in buckets of steaming water. The scent of lavender and rosemary filled the air, oh that was her favourite scent in the morning. Two maids helped her undress, and she sank into the tub, sighing as the warm water soothed her.

As one of the maids gently poured water over her shoulders, Irene spoke, almost to herself. “I was happier in Dorne,” she murmured, trailing her fingers through the water. “I want to go back there someday. To see my family again, to be… me again.” She looked down, smiling wistfully. “I was freer there, you know?”

One of the older maids, Meg, nodded with a sympathetic smile as she rinsed your hair. “Aye, my lady. They say Dorne has a way of bringing out the heart in people. But your father has his reasons for wanting you here.”

“He always has his reasons,” You said softly, her voice edged with resignation. She leaned back, letting the maids scrub the last traces of sleep from her limbs.

“You’re still Frey dearie. You’d never stay in Dorne for too long, though it’s built you, made you smarter.” Meg cheerily said, scrubbing and Y/N’s hair, throwing whatever ointments. Y/N hummed to this, she’s still Frey, the reason why she lingered in Dorne until her thirteenth was quite the random decision.

The other handmaiden, Nora, much younger and atleast 17 said to Y/N, “My lady, there’s talks about Lady Stark coming over here, apparently she’s looking for a bride for her son.” She spoke excitedly, washing at your arms.

“Stark? Northerner? he must be a rugged beast with no sense at all, must be another one of those brutes they breed up there.” You replied quickly, to think that a Stark would want to marry a Frey was also unbelievable, who would want to marry a big wolf?

“Your father’s picking between your sisters, then they have to be confirmed by my Lady Catelyn.” Meg continued, as you let them condition your hair and add some extra oils and essences to your bath time.

You nodded, not that you cared… well you thought it was interesting for one of them to ask for a hand in marriage, “What’s the reason for the marriage?” You asked, looking down in the soapy water.

“The crossing or something like that, they need it for the war.” Meg rattled on, scrubbing the last parts of you before preparing a towel for you.

“Of course.” You muttered, still sleepy from the terrible cold, wet night you all suffered from. “What’s the boy’s name?” You asked, less then cheery.

“Robb Stark? something like that. He’s know as the Young wolf, rides a wolf into battle, turns into one in the night. I think it’s a load of rubbish, but I do hear he’s handsome.” Nora spoke, rattling on about this Robb Stark and what good features he has and how much he resembles his Tully mother.

“Perhaps you have a chance though my lady.” Meg said calmly. As she was drying you off and wrapping yourself in a thick robe. “Lady Y/N,” she began, helping with the braid of her damp hair. “Your father could choose you, this rugged beast of a man could be your escape.”

“And leave you all behind? I doubt it.” You rolled your eyes at their failure at convincing you.

“It’s merely a suggesting. Do take it lightly.” Meg replied, trying to please you.

Y/N allowed the maids to dry her off, the steam from the bath still clinging to her skin, making the chill of the Twins feel sharper. She was dressed in a simple gown of dusky blue wool, plain but fitted, with embroidered vines of silver along the cuffs and neckline. Her hair had been braided into a crown, a few tendrils curling loose around her face, softening her expression as she wrapped herself in a fur cloak. She was ready to brave the drafts that snuck through the old stone walls.

As she made her way through the winding halls, Nora fell into step beside her. They walked slowly, their footsteps echoing off the stone, and Y/N’s voice was almost a whisper as they resumed their conversation.

“So, Lady Stark is truly searching for a wife for her son?” Y/N asked, her voice threaded with curiosity and a hint of skepticism. “Does she think it so simple to find one of us willing to move to the North? Nonetheless with this war, any one of us be part of it?”

Nora gave a soft laugh. “It seems your father thinks it’s simple enough,” she replied, glancing at Y/N. “But yes, word has it she wants a match to strengthen the ties between the North and the Riverlands. They say Robb Stark needs someone who’ll bring loyalty and strength to his cause, but also it’s an agreement for the crossing that will help him win the war”

“Loyalty and strength,” You mused, a smirk playing at your lips. “I wonder if Lady Stark knows much of the Freys.”

Nora chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Perhaps she only hears what she wishes. But you might surprise her, my lady. You’ve a spirit that could suit the North well. They say it takes a certain fire to keep warm in those freezing castles.”

You paused by an arched window, looking out over the river winding far below. The day was clear, and the wind swept in with a sharp bite, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and cold water. You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself. “I wonder if he’s anything like her, Robb Stark,” You murmured, almost to yourself. “I’ve heard Lady Stark is as proud and steadfast as the North itself.”

Perhaps,” Nora replied, leaning against the wall beside you. “But I’ve also heard he has some of his father in him. An honorable man, loyal to a fault, like Eddard Stark. A woman could do worse.”

“Could she?” You asked, turning away from the view with a sigh. “The North is distant, Nora. Cold. Unyielding. I’ve only known heat and light, gardens that stretch as far as you can see. Here, it’s all stone, and there, well, it’s ice, isn’t it?”

Nora gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could reply, a loud, impatient voice interrupted them.

“Y/N!”

They turned to see your half-brother, Merrett Frey, striding toward them, his expression bored and slightly sour. Merrett was a portly man with thin hair and a perpetually furrowed brow, looking as though everything he saw annoyed him.

“Y/N” he repeated, glancing from her to Nora, “Father wants to see you. Now.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, though you masked your annoyance quickly. “Did he say why?”

Merrett shrugged, clearly uninterested in details. “Something about a match. Said he wants you in the hall at once.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Nora, a mix of dread and resignation in her eyes. “So it begins,” she muttered under her breath before she straightened, squaring her shoulders.

“Very well, Merrett,” she replied coolly, giving a final look out the window, as though Dorne lay somewhere beyond, waiting for her. “Lead the way.”

And with that, she followed her brother down the winding corridors, a feeling like ice settling over her heart.

The great hall of the Twins was dark and drafty as Irene entered, her cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. Walder Frey sat at the high table, hunched over with age, his piercing eyes watching her approach. He gave her a thin, sly smile, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze that made her stomach twist. Around him, a few of her siblings and half-siblings lingered, pretending to be occupied with anything other than her arrival.

She stopped before him, lifting her chin defiantly.

“Y/N,” he began without ceremony, his voice as thin and cutting as the river wind. “I’ve struck a deal with Catelyn Stark, and I’ll hear no argument. You’ll be marrying Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, and doing your duty as a Frey. Our alliance with the Starks strengthens us. You should be proud.” He then took a chug out of his red wine.

You felt your throat tighten, her voice sticking as she forced herself to speak. “Father, surely… surely there’s someone else more suited to this—“

Walder’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll be good because I say so. We’ve not been offered a match like this, not in a long time. A wolf from Winterfell, boy or not, could make you a queen if you play it right. But you’re to do as I command,” he said, his tone turning as cold as steel.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but his stare silenced you. Your voice faded, her gaze lowering. You realized then, painfully, that you had no choice.

“Yes, Father,” she murmured, her voice resigned. “As you wish.”

He grunted, satisfied. “Good girl. Go on, then. I expect you’ll be a dutiful wife.”

Days later, Y/N stood in her chamber at the Twins, a quiet stillness surrounding her as she prepared for the wedding. She thought back to Lady Catelyn’s gaze when they first met sharp and cool. Catelyn had looked her over with an assessing eye, her expression revealing nothing as she took in Y/N’s every detail, from her posture to her expression. Y/N could practically feel the weight of Catelyn’s silent judgment, her assessment of whether Y/N would be fit to stand beside her son in both marriage and war. After what seemed an eternity, Lady Stark had finally given a curt nod, deeming her acceptable.

You slipped into your wedding gown, a simple yet beautiful piece the seamstresses had hurriedly prepared. It was made of silken ivory, with long, elegant sleeves that flowed to your wrists, and a fitted bodice embroidered with delicate silver leaves. The gown was free of unnecessary adornment, simple yet striking, with a modest neckline and a trailing skirt that whispered over the stone floor behind you.

Your hair, braided the southern way, with a shimmering veil falling infront of your face and behind you, covering up the meek expression you held.

“You’re shining.” Nora spoke sadly, knowing this was probably the last time they’d see eachother. Her voice soft and filled with acceptance.

Meg, the older maid who had helped raise you, stepped forward as well, her eyes misty with emotion. “Be strong, my dear. You’re braver than you think.” She reached out and gave your hands a squeeze.

“Il miss you both,” A knot in your stomach tightened, this was really it. You bid your goodbyes before making your way down the hall outside, your father taking your arm with that wretched grin he always had on, the doors opening, the Stark flag hoisted alongside your own one, you didn’t dare look up from your feet, the chill air hitting you immediately as you were clutching at your fathers arms before he let you go and you had met with what looks to be Robb Stark.

You couldn’t really see him well with the veil and you’re sure he couldn’t see your face at all. A moment later after the septa spoke, he removed the veil over your face, and his eyes.. something in it softened, they were pools of dark blue, and you swear you felt your heart thump a little faster. He was rugged yet handsome, with the wolf emblem on him, you saw him quickly look at someone else, rather this other young lady before looking back at you, that lady having a rather solemn look on her face. You knew straight away that was his lover, and this would be even more complex then you had anticipated. You said your vows and shared a kiss, your lips much softer against his chapped ones, but perhaps you felt that warmth again. Maybe this could work, or maybe you were doomed to fail.

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tags!!! (Tell me if you want to be tagged in pt2)

@samieree @maysileeewrites

[novaursa]

Hi! 🫂

English is not my first language!

Stark!reader x Oberyn Martell

Where reader is engaged to Oberyn. She was at the red wedding and reader is hurt with Greywind and her direwolf "Winter". They go to Dorne for help. You can choose how the ending goes! Hope you understand what i writing and sorry again for my bad english! 🫣

Shadow of the Red Wedding

- Summary: You attened the Red Wedding and survive. You wake up with Oberyn watching over you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Oberyn Martell

- Note: Let's pretend the reader was smuggled by surviving Stark loyalists somewhere safe while unconscious. Don't think too much about the logic of it. 🙃

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The air inside the Twins is thick, almost suffocating. Your head is spinning from the wine, the noise, and the underlying tension you can’t quite place. The hall is alive with music and laughter, but there's something sour in the atmosphere, like rotten meat left too long in the sun. Winter is restless beside you, her silver eyes darting around, ears flicking with every cheer and clang of cups. You scratch behind her ears absently, trying to calm your own nerves more than hers.

You’re wedged between Roslin Frey’s nervous chatter and your brother Robb’s booming laughter, pretending to be more at ease than you feel. Your thoughts keep drifting south, to the warmth of the sun and a pair of dark, mischievous eyes that always seem to hold more secrets than you can pry loose. Oberyn. Your betrothed. The Red Viper of Dorne. He would laugh at this, laugh at your unease, call you too much the wolf in the lion’s den.

Winter growls low in her throat, her hackles rising. You glance down, heart skipping a beat. She’s never like this unless—

The music shifts, a sudden lurch from joyous melodies to something sharp, discordant. There’s a flash of movement, too quick, too chaotic, and then it’s all blood and screams and steel flashing in the torchlight.

“Winter!” you shout, but she’s already leaping, jaws snapping, fur bristling like a storm. She barrels into a group of Frey men, teeth sinking into the arm of one who’s rushing Robb. You’re on your feet, blade in hand—when did you draw it?—and then you’re fighting, the clash of swords ringing in your ears, too loud, too close.

It’s a blur of chaos. You feel the sting of a blade slicing across your arm, the burn of another grazing your side. You slash and parry, trying to reach Robb, to reach your mother—your family, your home, everything falling apart around you. Winter’s a whirlwind of white and red, tearing through the Freys, snarling and snapping, but there are too many.

You see it then, the crossbow, the bolt flying, and Robb’s eyes widening as it strikes. A scream rips from your throat, raw and desperate, but you don’t remember making the sound. Everything slows, like moving through water, and then you’re on the ground, pain flaring bright and hot in your side, your leg—where did that knife come from?

Winter is over you, growling, her fur wet and matted with blood—yours, hers, it’s hard to tell. You reach for her, fingers tangling in her fur, and then there’s Grey Wind, a silver blur crashing through the hall, jaws snapping around the throat of a man who’s raising his sword. For a moment, there’s hope, the wolves together, tearing through the carnage.

But there’s too much blood. You’re slipping, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision. You feel Winter’s weight on your chest, her muzzle pressed to your face, a low whine vibrating through her. You want to tell her it’s okay, that you’re okay, but you can’t seem to find the words. The world tilts, and then it’s all gone.

When you wake, everything hurts. Every breath is a knife in your ribs, every twitch of your fingers a fresh wave of agony. You’re not dead, but you almost wish you were. The ceiling above you is unfamiliar, high and vaulted, and the air smells different, warmer, filled with spices and salt.

South. You’re somewhere south.

It’s a slow, agonizing process to turn your head, and even slower to make sense of what you’re seeing. There’s a shadow in the doorway, tall and broad, and then he’s there, beside you, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch you.

“Oberyn,” you manage, your voice a rasping whisper.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you, and it’s almost unbearable, the intensity in his eyes, the raw emotion you’ve never seen him wear so openly. Then he curses, long and colorful, something about wolves and stubborn northern women, and it’s almost funny, almost.

“You’re not dead,” he says finally, and it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard because of course you’re not. Not yet, anyway.

“I thought…they said…all dead.” He’s shaking his head, and you realize, dimly, that he’s shaking too, trembling like the ground before a storm. “And then you show up here, bleeding all over my nice sheets.”

You almost laugh, but it turns into a cough, and he’s there, hands on your shoulders, his face close to yours, and he’s angry—no, furious—but not at you. Never at you. You wonder if he’s going to kiss you or strangle you, and then he’s doing neither, just holding you, whispering something in that smooth, honeyed voice, too soft for you to make out.

“Winter?” you ask, because it’s the only thing that matters right now. Where is she? Did she—

“Alive,” he says, and his voice is different now, something raw and aching in it. “Your wolf is alive. Nearly tore a hole in our healer’s arm when they tried to get close to you.”

You close your eyes, relief washing over you. Winter’s alive. She’s alive. And so are you. You want to say something, to tell him how much you missed him, how sorry you are for nearly dying, but the words are tangled up inside you, too big, too heavy.

“You’re a bloody fool,” he says instead, his hand brushing over your cheek, gentle now, so gentle it almost breaks you. “What were you thinking, going to that damned wedding? Your brother, your mother—” He cuts off, his jaw tight, and you see it there, the grief, the pain he’s trying so hard to hide.

You want to tell him it’s not his fault, that you had to go, that you had no choice. But you’re tired, so tired, and his hand is warm, and he’s here, and maybe that’s enough for now. You let your eyes close, feeling the press of his lips against your forehead, the last thing you hear before you slip back into darkness is his voice, low and fierce:

“You’re mine, you stubborn wolf. I’m not letting you go that easily.”

[istumpysk]

OPERATION ICEBERG: THE TIER LIST

THEORY:

Olyver Frey is Rosby's ward

TIER:

50/50: These theories are complete toss-ups.

[Tier list overview]

EVIDENCE:

What is the theory?

Lord Gyles Rosby had no immediate heir when he died in A Feast for Crows.

Gyles Rosby's ward is a young man residing at Castle Rosby, located in the crownlands.

Presumably, Gyles wanted his lands and castle to go to this ward.

Cersei Lannister prefers to seize the lands and give them to an ally as a reward. She doesn't seem worried that the ward will cause any issues.

The inheritance is still in question by the end of A Dance with Dragons. Kevan Lannister, Hand of the King, dies before any resolution.

"Is there aught else?" The Grand Maester consulted his papers. "We should address the Rosby inheritance. Six claims have been put forth—" "We can settle Rosby at some later date. What else?" - Epilogue, ADWD

The author has deliberately not revealed the ward's name; many in the fandom believe it's Olyvar Frey.

Who is Olyvar Frey?

Born in 281 AC, Olyvar Frey is a member of House Frey.

He is the eighteenth son of Lord Walder Frey, and the fourth born to his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby.

Robb Stark took Olyvar as a squire, a role in which he excelled.

"You have done House Frey a grievous insult, Robb." "I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal a squire as any king could want. [...]" - Catelyn II, ASOS

x

"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north," said Robb, "but I do not see him here. Would he be at the other feast?" - Catelyn VII, ASOS

Olyvar Frey was notably loyal to Robb Stark; he expressed a desire to stay with Robb even after he married Jeyne Westerling, and was not present at the Red Wedding. He is considered a Good Frey™.

"You have done House Frey a grievous insult, Robb." "I never meant to. Ser Stevron died for me, and Olyvar was as loyal a squire as any king could want. He asked to stay with me, but Ser Ryman took him with the rest. All their strength. The Greatjon urged me to attack them . . ." - Catelyn II, ASOS

x

Lady Westerling had remained at Riverrun with her children; Jeyne, her little sister Eleyna, and young Rollam, Robb's squire, who complained bitterly about being left. Yet that was wise as well. Olyvar Frey had squired for Robb previously, and would doubtless be present for his sister's wedding; to parade his replacement before him would be as unwise as it was unkind. - Catelyn V, ASOS

x

"I'd hoped to ask Olyvar to squire for me when we march north," said Robb, "but I do not see him here. Would he be at the other feast?" "Olyvar?" Ser Ryman shook his head. "No. Not Olyvar. Gone . . . gone from the castles. Duty." - Catelyn VII, ASOS

x

Olyvar Frey had been devoted to her son as well. Hadn't Robb said that Olyvar wanted to remain with him even after he'd married Jeyne? - Catelyn VII, ASOS

What is a Good Frey™?

A Good Frey™ is a member of House Frey who isn't entirely reprehensible. Believe it or not, there are members of House Frey who are actually good, although the author makes it challenging to distinguish who they are.

Other members of Good Frey™ include:

Roslin Frey, the wife of Edmure Tully and the sister of Olyvar Frey.

"And Lady Roslin was distracting you." "She . . . they made her do it, Lord Walder and the rest. Roslin never wanted . . . she wept, but I thought it was . . ." - Jaime VI, AFFC

Perwyn Frey, personal escort to Catelyn Stark, member of Robb Stark's personal guard, and older brother of Olyvar and Roslin Frey.

"Well met, sers. Is Ser Perwyn about? He helped escort me to Storm's End and back, when Robb sent me to speak with Lord Renly. I was looking forward to seeing him again." "Perwyn is away," Lame Lothar said. "I shall give him your regards. I know he will regret having missed you." "Surely he will return in time for Lady Roslin's wedding?" "He had hoped to," said Lame Lothar, "but with this rain . . . you saw how the rivers ran, my lady." - Catelyn VI, ASOS

x

"You were speaking of the Freys you wanted dead. Ryman, Edwyn, Emmon . . ." "And Walder Rivers," Daven said, "that whoreson. Hates that he's a bastard, and hates everyone who's not. Ser Perwyn seems a decent fellow, though, might as well spare him. The women too. [...]" - Jaime V, AFFC

Willamen Frey, a maester of the Citadel and the brother of Olyvar, Roslin, and Perwyn Frey. He seems to be minding his own business.

I'm sure there are other Good Freys™ hiding about, but for whatever reason, George seems rather fond of this specific Frey family. Good job, Bethany Rosby.

Why do we suspect Rosby's ward might be Olyvar Frey?

Olyvar is related to Gyles Rosby through his mother, Bethany Rosby.

Some of Olyvar's relatives, like Merrett Frey and Geremy Frey's children, have been fostered with maternal families.

Olyvar's older brothers are either dead, knighted, or serving as maesters, making him the logical choice.

The maester at Rosby, Melwys Rivers, is a bastard son of Lord Walder Frey.

Olyvar was sent away on "duty" before the Red Wedding, which could be both an excuse and a legitimate reason for his absence.

Do we know anything else about the Rosby ward?

Rosby's ward refused to offer hospitality to House Stokeworth.

"Uncomfortable," complained Falyse. "It rained most of the day. We thought to spend the night at Rosby, but that young ward of Lord Gyles refused us hospitality." - Cersei V, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: As a Robb Stark loyalist, Olyvar Frey may be unwelcoming to friends of House Lannister.

Why it might not be Olyvar: One doesn't need to be a Stark loyalist to avoid hosting Falyse Stokeworth in their castle.

He's an "ill-born wretch."

She sniffed. "Mark my word, when Gyles dies that ill-born wretch will make off with his gold. He may even try and claim the lands and lordship, though by rights Rosby should come to us when Gyles passes. My lady mother was aunt to his second wife, third cousin to Gyles himself." - Cersei V, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: Despite Olyvar being a legitimate child of Walder Frey, and House Frey's power and prominence, the house has a low reputation in Westeros.

Why it might not be Olyvar: "Ill-born" could mean lowborn or illegitimate.

He's not of Gyles Rosby's blood.

"No children of his body, but there is a ward . . ." ". . . not of his blood." - Cersei IX, AFFC

Why it might be Olyvar: Olyvar is not a direct descendant of Gyles Rosby.

Why it might not be Olyvar: Olyvar has Rosby blood through his mother.

Is there anything else to consider?

Not Olyvar: Olyvar would not be the first in line to inherit Rosby; legally, his older brother Perwyn should come before him.

Yes Olyvar: The author may eliminate around 30 Freys from the line of succession, possibly saving Perwyn, Good Frey™, for a larger castle that sits on the Green Fork.

If it's not Olyvar Frey, who the hell is it?

STUMPY'S THOUGHTS:

You guys have the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever by making this a tie vote.

VOTE:

I welcome discussions. Feel free to reblog, respond, or challenge my perspective—I won't be offended by any of it.

Please note, if "no" is the eventual winner, or if it's competitive, a second poll will be conducted to determine the proper location.

NEXT THEORY:

Ned Stark + Ashara Dayne = Jon Snow (N + A = J)

[Main menu]

[westerosoliviapope]

Warrior in a Suit | Scandal Westeros

Sarella Sand x Robb Stark

"I've made my choice."

His lips traced a torturous trail up her shoulder, punctuating with a nip of teeth that made her swallow a moan. Not that it did any good. Her hips were already canting up, seeking friction from his zipper.

"Robb…" She willed herself to focus. To be authoritative. But her voice was something between a keen and whimper. "This," she emphasized, "isn't the choice."

There had been three photos on the desk: Desmera Redwyne, Roslin Frey, and Dr. Talisa Maegyr. Were he in his right mind, he'd pick the doctor—an olive-skinned stunner on track to lead the pediatric surgery department at Mudd Memorial. But he'd cleared the desk in a single swipe and placed her on top of it.

"The fuck it isn't."

Then he pressed his clothed body between her legs, giving her exactly what she needed, and she wasn't in her right mind either.

"This," he rocked into the answering swivel of her hips, "is where I want to be. This…" His mouth found hers in a heated tangle of tongues that invited her to take more of him, as much as she could stand.

"This is real. I'll play pretend when I'm finished."

on AO3

[ledomasgrace]

Roslin Frey & Robb Stark

He marries the Frey girl that night, and he does not quite know how to feel about his Frey wife.

Season 1 AU from my fic “Husband.” on ao3

[ladyalicentshightower]

Criston Cole isn't really been afforded a lot of nuance by the fandom and it's starting to annoy me.

I think a few more small scenes would've done so much, say hearing the ladies of the court gossiping over an illegitimate child or even he himself discussing his background with either Alicent or Rhaenyra, which would've added to his development and his eventual crisis of faith, his Catholic guilt. I think people forget Criston is one of the few main characters who isn't a noble or a direct part of the family. As an illegitimate child in Westeros, all his life he's been told that he is the sinful thing, that he was born of sin and therefore unclean as result. By taking the white cloak and becoming a King's guard, he was able to put that "sin" behind him and become "clean". By sleeping with Rhaenyra he's stained and tainted that, something he can't handle or stand at all. He committed the ultimate sin, he's broken his oath, stained his honor and may have created a child doomed to be unclean too (obviously no such child was conceived or born but there was always the chance one could've been and I think that ate Criston alive inside and will probably be a factor of why he behaves the way he does towards Rhaenyra's sons). It's why he's so eager to run off and marry Rhaenyra so he can (in his mind) set it right. He wants to see himself as clean again. It's why he confesses so quickly to Alicent (also did some of you not watch the episode? Criston knew Rhaenyra snuck out, he had no way of knowing Rhaenyra was even with Daemon, he wasn't in King's landing to hear the gossip regarding Daemon & Rhaenyra that Larys spoke of and he was summoned immediately by Alicent so of course he assumed the rumours Alicent spoke of was referring to him), to seek forgiveness and regain some of that "cleanliness" before dying. Alicent offers him salvation, sanctuary, forgiveness while Rhaenyra shattered the version of herself he had built up in his mind. She betrayed that ideal he had of her and cannot understand why the "sin" they committed haunts him so greatly. For her it was a pleasurable night they spent together, to him it is his damnation, his ultimate sin. It's why he follows Alicent, in his eyes she offers him salvation while Rhaenyra can only offer him ruination.

I could ramble so much more about this, I don't know what it is but Alicent and Criston and the religious themes surrounding them both is absolutely fascinating.

[riderj123]

Countdown to 1r0n anniversary (29/73) - favourite moment in every episode: Edmure and Roslin’s wedding - The Rains of Castamere (3x09)

You’re a delight to me, my lady. - Edmure Tully

[xoxoctic]

ASoIaF - rarepair: robb x roslin

“we could be happy.”

[dalekofchaos]

GRRM's original outline

Other what if scenarios that I ran out of space for. Add your own if it didn't make the cut

What if Lyanna lived and became Robert's Queen?

What if Myrcella was born first and was betrothed to Robb

What if Robb and Margaery are betrothed?

What if Rhaella survived childbirth with Daenerys?

What if Joanna Lannister didn't die in childbirth?

What if Arthur took Lyanna/Jon to Dragonstone and fled with Rhaella, Viserys and Dany and regrouped with Jon Connington?

Jamie took the throne for himself after killing Aerys?

What if Elia and her children escaped to Dorne?

What if Balon died instead of his sons?

What if Jon Arryn had a son and was raised with Ned and Robert?

What if Theon did what Asha recommended and kidnapped Bran and RIckon and burned Winterfell to the ground and this leads to Theon becoming the Iron Prince and a strong contender for the Kingsmoot.

What if Rhaegar and Robert died in the Trident and Ned became King?

What if Viserys met and married Arianne Martell?

What if Domeric Bolton lived and never met Ramsay?

What if Rhaenyra won The Dance Of The Dragons

What if Arya revealed herself to Roose Bolton

What if Rhaegar married Cersei instead of Elia?

What if Ned and his brothers talked sense into Robert and he swore off his ways to be good for Lyanna and Lyanna fought in the rebellion because Aerys kills her father and brother(because Southern Ambitions)

[ladycatofwinterfell]

This is a gift for @nedlynstan , my partner in crime and the love of my tumblr life. When I promised her I would write a fic for her I didn’t think it would turn out that long, but here I am like 20.000 words later. Anyway, I love you, Beatrice, and I hope you like it!

Summary: On the morning of her forty fourth birthday Catelyn discovers that she's pregnant. This knowledge follows her through the day, and new surprises are thrown her way all the time. Her family sure is something, but she's never happier than when she's among them

(I couldn’t post it on here like I usually do because it was so long)

[asoiafrarepairs]

Robb Stark x Roslin Frey, Robb never encounters Jeyne Westerling and marries Roslin. Their marriage is for alliance at first but as time passes, they do grow to love each other and have a happy and fruitful marriage.

Added to our prompt page!

[lemonjules]

Theon: *at Robb's funeral* can i have a moment alone with him?

Roslin: yeah, whatever *leaves*

Theon: *leaning over Robb's open coffin* now listen, asshole, i know you're not really dead.

Robb: *dead* no shit, Sherlock.

[anerdquemoraaolado]

Breaking the Wheel

Soldiers and Weddings

The day Robb was going to marry Roslin Frey, he chose not to take his family as guests. His future father-in-law was known as a cruel, bloodthirsty, unpredictable man. That was why joining the Frey family was risky and dangerous. Robb was not even allowed to meet Roslin personally. But he at least managed to send her a letter:

My dear Miss. Frey,

This letter is the way I found of expressing my willingness to join you in marriage. I know that we don't know each other and that you should think that our union has secondary interests because of the benefits it brings to it. I don't deny them. But know that I want the resources of your family to help my father put an end to this war. I sincerely wish to know you better and make you a happy wife.

Signed,

Robb Stark.

Roslin was very nervous about the idea of marriage, especially with the famous Robb Stark, son of General Stark. Among the girls of the North, the most wanted son as suitor was Robb, charming and a brave Colonel. Jon was too quiet to arouse interest, and when he married no one cared much. But that was what the others were saying, and Roslin didn't believe it at all. Robb was someone she definitely didn't really know. And that frightened her. When the letter arrived, she felt relief, her fiancé, to begin with, was not a bad person. Since she didn't have a choice, she decided to accept him and try hard to do what Robb was proposing.

No Stark accompanied the ceremony beyond the groom himself. Robb begged them to stay home for their own safety.

"Don't worry," he assured his family, "I'll come back, I ask you to welcome Roslin with all the hospitality."

"We'll do it my brother," Jon promised for the whole family.

Robb left early for the Frey mansion. When he got there he was grateful to be able to talk to Roslin before the ceremony.

'Miss. Frey" He kissed her hand cordially.

"Colonel Stark," she replied.

"I don't want to alarm you but" Suddenly, uncharacteristically, Robb felt embarrassed, he barely knew the girl who was about to become his wife.

"Marriage is not your fault," she took courage to say, "my father chose him and I'm okay with it. Thank you for sending me the letter, it helped me a lot. I could know better who you are and it made me valmer. I want you to know, sir, that I am as willing as you are to make our marriage work."

"Thank you, Miss. Frey" Robb smiled in surprise but pleased.

The ceremony was swift, the votes that were made, made Robb remember Jon's marriage, which made him wish at the time that he had a marriage as happy as his brother's.

There was a prepared party where the bride and groom were uncomfortable. Robb and Roslin smiled politely at the guests who congratulated them. Crazy to get rid of his daughter, but with the certainty that he would be connected to the Stark and protected by them when they reached power, Walder Frey dismissed the bride and groom.

Roslin, now Stark, was anxious and apprehensive about what lay ahead. What comforted her was that she would never return to her horrible father's house again. Robb as he rode, he thought of the relief in taking a load off his back and putting another responsibility in its place. He could at least count on his family, who would receive their new relative with open arms.