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trekbait · 3 months ago

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You’ve NEVER considered this VACATION HOTSPOT!

With the news of a supernova threatening the Romulan homeworld, the Romulan Star Empire has started to open up its borders in a way that was previously unthinkable. With the planet’s days numbered, this is a vacation opportunity you don’t want to miss! However, let’s not pretend that a trip behind the neutral zone is now a holiday on Risa. The economy is collapsing in the face of armageddon and Romulans do not let their guard down easily. So we checked out the planet to see what you can expect from a holiday to this grey world.

Where to Stay

We were met planetside by our guides, Caidee and Kyuvok, who followed us everywhere during our stay. We stayed in the only hotel open to non-Romulans, situated in the capital inside a walled compound under heavy guard. Starfleet had told us to expect that our rooms would be bugged but hanging from the ceiling were very obvious surveillance devices that followed us around as we moved. We took this in our stride and began greeting them each morning.

Inside the hotel, we enjoyed a single Romulan restaurant. It was vast, but mostly empty aside from a handful of Starfleet personnel working on evacuation preparations. The restaurant’s single fixed menu (starring a grey-looking soup) got a little repetitive after a week but any visits to restaurants in the city proper were deemed unnecessary. Our guides explained that this restaurant was clearly the best that Romulan cuisine had to offer and mingling with the locals would be distracting to us. They also said that their food demonstrates Romulan ingenuity and self-reliance; they proudly don’t import a single grain and certainly don’t dabble in non-Romulan cuisines.

Tomb to the Glorious Dead

Caidee and Kyuvok ensured we had a full itinerary for our trip, starting with paying homage to the military dead; many of whom we were told died gloriously in battles with the Federation, Klingon Empire and various barbarian worlds. Kyuvok provided us with a bouquet of flowers to leave at the base.

The monument itself is a group of Romulan centurions in 23rd century uniforms carrying an imperial banner. The figures are besieged by rather barbarous and demonic-looking figures I was told represented Federation corruption. It was a little hard to make out the details as the monument is around half a kilometre high and we were viewing it from the base but I’m told the detail on the faces is the most intricate in the galaxy and carved entirely by Reman “volunteers” (note: the guides do not understand the use of air quotes for sarcasm so feel free to use them liberally in conversation).

Imperial Theatre

After that, we saw a play at the Imperial Theatre about how the Romulan Senate bravely defeated the rebel Shinzon and his Federation allies. I queried Caidee on the accuracy of these events but she assured us that Romulans would have a far better understanding of these events considering how oppressed Federation subjects are only fed propaganda by Vulcans.

It was interesting to note that many of the people in the audience looked very similar to each other and moved to clap in perfect synchronicity. Kyuvok dismissed the idea that the seats were padded out with holograms and it merely demonstrated how Romulans were in perfect sync as a single, perfect society.

Caidee offered a recording of the play to take home. I suggested we could trade holonovels; her eyes lit up at our description of Captain Proton. Alas, after a glare from Kyuvok she explained that Romulans have no need for corrupt Federation stories. It’s at this point we realised why we had two guides for such a small group.

The Firefalls

On the third day, we asked Caidee to take us to see the firefalls at Gal Gath'thong. After a loud “debate” with the Tal Shiar officers stationed outside our rooms, Caidee announced gleefully that they’d love to show us. The shuttle had its windows blacked out and seemed to make so many course corrections we could have sworn we’d circled the entire planet before arriving at our destination.

The falls indeed were magnificent, even if we had to view them through a chainlink fence in a small supply compound a kilometre away. We wish we could show you, but all our holo-imagers were confiscated on arrival along with all our communicators. We did however catch a glimpse of someone outside the fence being chased by uniformed officers.

We were told by Caidee, as she hurried us back into the shuttle, that it was a Vulcan spy. Vulcan spies appear to be everywhere in Romulan society and are responsible for everything that goes wrong; Caidee says it’s common knowledge that the supernova is a Vulcan plot against the Romulan people because of their deep-seated jealousy ever since Romulans left Vulcan.

The Tal Shiar Museum

The following day it looked like Caidee had been replaced by a different Romulan, but Kyuvok assured us Caidee was still Caidee and had just changed her hair to one of the alternate state-sanctioned looks. There are 5 haircuts allowed on Romulus and anyone deviating from them is usually suspected of being a Vulcan spy.

That proved to be a suitable segway as Kyuvok and new-hair Caidee decided we should see The Tal Shiar Museum. This exhibition outlined the work the Tal Shiar does to ensure the safety of every Romulan against galactic threats. Displays condemned traitors and spies who the Tal Shiar have executed to keep the people safe, including M’ret, Toreth, Jean-Luc Picard and Spock. We asked Kyuvok about how Picard could have been killed when he made a speech to the Romulan Senate recently. This, apparently, is a Federation lie because Picard was killed by the Tal Shiar in 2365, 2369 and 2379.

Conclusion

Romulus is still fairly closed and sadly we couldn’t talk our guides into a trip to the palatial Senate building or anywhere else exciting. But when they returned our equipment to us as we left we found they had filled our holo-imagers with picturesque landscapes and historic buildings we didn’t even know existed. So they were at least gracious enough to give us a slideshow to share!

We did of course hand all our gear to a Starfleet liaison to remove the tracking software that had been installed.

It may not be Casperia Prime, but it looks like Romulus is only around for a few more years so best book your trip today! After all, the rate at which they put Federation visitors on trial for espionage has dropped 13% in the last year so you're safer than ever.

#star trek #star trek memes #startrek #romulans

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revivisection · 3 months ago

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TRICK N TREAT!!!!!!!!

YOU GET: the medicine drug

#soup query

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bookwyrminspiration · 8 months ago

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ok but can we consider the possibility of Keefe having what is effectively Schrödinger's abs? When only he can see them, he's in a quantum superposition of having visible abs and no abs at all. But that's why Sophie doesn't have a comment about his physique because when she looks at it, there's no visible abs (or abdominal system.)

I would therefore like to argue that the Elvin community is also split about Keefe's abs. This is because upon uncovering them, some may see his abs (which are very visible, as we've established elves have a lot of abs) but others see nothing.

This is also a nightmare for Fitz, who still has to puppeteer Keefe for his lack of abdominal muscles. The two of them are the only ones who know the truth.

Okay hang on I'm trying to follow here. So you're saying Keefe has no abdominal muscles (he's soup, which Fitz is puppeting, as earlier established). But some people see very visible abs when looking at him. Is that like. a genetic mutation? some elves mutated specifically to see abs that Keefe does not have? and this is also a topic of debate in the lost cities?

Where do the imaginary abs come from--are Keefe and Fitz faking abs as he's being puppeted to try and throw people off the trail? Is Keefe drawing them on? Ah, but that doesn't account for some seeing it and others not

Well, that's assuming one person can see and another can't at the same time--like they both look at the same time and see different things. What if he only sometimes draws abs on to distract from his souped condition, and the whole debate is just between people who saw him on different days (some when he'd drawn them, some when he hadn't bothered).

Forget what the Neverseen are up to, Fitz and Keefe are running the con of the millennia here

#kotlc #abscourse #quil's queries #xanadaus #if I misunderstood any of what you proposed feel free to correct me #i also did take it a little to the left too #but anyway #when will shannon address the souped keefe allegations

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kisscara · 2 years ago

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Hey hey~! Can I perhaps request a light angst about reader getting really sick(not to the point where it’s fatal) but ends up coughing a lot and scara/wanderer gets scared because of what happened with the kid in his third betrayal??

(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)♡

promise me? [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fatui!scaramouche

a/n: HURRAY an angsty req to get myself fired up and i hope you like this anonnie :3

scaramouche idly stands outside of the bedroom door. he looks down at the bowl of soup in his hands. his heart makes little tugs of pain each time he hears you cough and endless thoughts run through his mind as he recalls the way he lost someone else in the exact same way.

but you wouldn't. you'd never. all you've ever been to him is loving and understanding. surely, there's no way that you'll leave him so abruptly. then again, that's the way he thought with them. scaramouche hesitates before using one hand to push the door open. he enters the room with his eyes fixated on your figure.

"oh, scara, i told you that you didn't have to stay back today. aren't you-" you stop short to cough before continuing with a strained voice, "aren't you busy?" scaramouche mutters, "are you an idiot? i'm not leaving you home alone in this state." he sets down the bowl onto the drawer by the bed and sits with you.

you notice the way he avoids looking into your eyes as he slowly mixes the soup with a spoon. "i'll be okay, scara. you know me and my immune system." you make a futile attempt at comforting him. scaramouche lightly scoffs, "i never said i was worried."

you sink in your spot with a pout. "liar." at that, he finally looks up to meet your gaze but you turn your head the other way with your eyes closed. scaramouche huffs as he tries to feed you the soup, "don't be difficult, (name)." you lie down on the bed, eyes still closed, and you slip under the blankets.

"i'm not looking at you 'til you believe me." you say, voice muffled by the sheets. scaramouche deadpans, "c'mon, i do believe you. i... i'm not worried about anything, okay? worrying's for weaklings such as you." he puts the bowl back onto the drawer and pulls the blanket off, only to find nothing.

scaramouche looks around and notices your head of (color) hair at the side of the bed. he gets onto the mattress and peers to where you were sitting on the floor. "i don't like it when you think like that, scara." you murmur, picking at your nails. he joins you on the floor. "think like what?"

you finally look at him and your soft gaze is one full of sorrow. "like i'm going to leave you." scaramouche gulps at your words and looks away, only to be stopped by your hand gently cupping his cheek to face you. "i love you and you know that, or do you?" you query.

he tightly holds your hand holding his face, "i do! i do know that, i just..." scaramouche's eyes scan yours for anything. 'say something, please.' he's begging and tears blur his vision. you wipe a falling tear, "if you know i love you, then why can't you put your full trust in me?"

you sniffle as your own tears peek at the corner of your eyes, "it hurts me to know that you think i'll leave you in the blink of an eye." scaramouche shakes his head and his vulnerable side comes out into the light. "no, no, it's... i don't want you to end up like him." there's parts where his voice cuts off and you sigh.

"i promise you," you push your lips against his and whisper, "i won't leave you but you have to promise me that you'll do the same and that you'll trust me from now on." scaramouche falls silent. you tear up even more, "promise me, kunikuzushi." he wavers before holding your face in his hands. "i promise, (name)."

you thinly exhale, "thank you." scaramouche gives you one last kiss of reassurance. "i promise." he plants kisses all over your face and neck before returning to your lips. you laugh and hold him back by his shoulders, "dear, you're going to get sick." scaramouche mumbles, "i can't get sick so,"

he wraps your waist in his arms, "let's stay together just a little while longer." you bury your face in his neck, "okay." you pull away and get back onto the bed, "now, are you still going to feed me?" you smile as he sits by you. "yes, now come here. i'm going back to work tomorrow, so you better be well by the morning."

you sit on his lap and he holds a spoonful of the soup in front of your mouth. you carefully sip it as to not spill any and burn your tongue from the heat, no less. scaramouche is bound to get another spoonful but you stop him by hugging his torso. "i feel better already."

scaramouche's pupils dilate.

he rolls his eyes, "that's not going to work on me. i know you hate ginger soup but you have to take this." you whine, "but seriously, it tastes bad..." scaramouche tsks, "do you want to stay sick forever?" you look at him and grin, "yeah. so then, you'll stay home everyday and take care of me!"

scaramouche places a hand on your head, "no. finish eating or i'll make you take medicine instead." you panic and sit up, "but that's not fair! i had one spoon, that should be enough!" scaramouche squints at you, "a spoon of soup is not the same thing as a spoon of medicine."

you grip fistfuls of your hair in frustration, "i thought the fatui were stupid!" scaramouche scoffs, "not me, because i chose you." you pause and sputter out in a laugh, "you're so corny." he gets out of the bed, "medicine it is."

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lil-gae-disaster · 3 months ago

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Have fun guys

@imobsessedwiththeatre @knowledge-paradox @hamalicious-soup @papers-pamphlet @almaprincess66 @rae-unbeloved @doodle-bug-nightmares @half-eaten-baguetteee

Jonathan heard a voice in the doorway as he finished another one of his letters to his love. Ever since the war ended and he had been forced to return to his home he felt yearning for his dear fool every hour of the day.

"I will come to bed, Annabelle." He answered her query on whether he would join her in their bed soon. Usually his father would find it improper to sleep in the same bed as a woman who was not his wife, but his position was a unique one. He had fled from his wedding all those years ago and it seems near all men and servants of the manor regard him as a married man and Annabelle his cherished wife. It was tiring.

"What are you writing on so late, love?" She asked as she stepped closer, her brown locks falling over her shoulder and back gracefully at it was supposed to be for a noblewoman. Jonathan sighed, she would be a fine wife would his heart not belong to one farmer residing in Scotland this moment.

"I have made .....friends in the war, I merely wish to continue our knowing each other even if I am not with them." He responded whilst folding the letter with the incriminating contents, followed by a wishful stare out of the window in the direction he knew his beloved Frederick to be. He got jolted out of his yearning as he felt Annabelles fingers massaging his shoulders.

"You are a fine man, my dear Jonathan. I doubt they will question your friendship if one letter ceases to respond to them in time." He heard her say behind him as she was still massaging his shoulders. He shook his head, his open hair slightly shaking with the movement.... he would have to go to his mother for her to braid it again come morn. Annabelle offered her service in that, but Jonathan does not want his hair touched by her.

Annabelle ceased her movement and held his shoulders gently with the care she must feel for him in some twist of fate, although he would never be able to respond, no matter how often she attempts to persuade him to respond her care. He could not for his heart was not with her but with his dear Frederick in Scotland.

"I will come to bed shortly, you should sleep without me, I will join you once I feel inclined to." He told her as she pressured him into leaning against the chair and with that lean against her. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, where his reading glasses sat. Tiredness was taking a toll on him, but he could not risk going to bed while she is still awake as she will come too close than Jonathan is comfortable for her own comfort.

"I must talk to you, Jonathan." His fiancée told him instead. This caused Jonathan to meet her emerald eyes, now frowning as she looked to the bed for the two to sit down on it and face each other. Jonathan complied and followed her to their bed.

They sat down, she closer than he would have liked, her hand on his knee. "I want the wedding to happen in two months." She told him as she stared into his eyes. This took Jonathan aback as he had wanted to postpone their marriage until he found an opening to flee.

"Why, if I may ask." He inquired, this was certainly a revelation he did not see coming.

Annabelle sighed. "My dearest, we have been planning the wedding for years now, hardly any preperations are not met and I find myself impatient." She elaborated, before pausing and smiling gently and looking down onto her flat stomach.

"And... I am carrying your child." She revealed. Jonathans world broke.

No.

This could not be.

He took care to not let her fall pregnant, to not give her a circumstance under which she could demand marriage.

"Are you sure? I have heard of women believing they have fallen pregnant and were not." Jonathan questioned here, his horror not well concealed. He would be a father, he would be forced to be the husband to the woman he loathed. .... He had to flee.

"I am sure, oh dearest Jonathan are those not wonderful news! You will be my husband and we will be father and mother! Oh, how I can already see the little one running around and you caring for him as your father cares for you!" She started gushing as she stood up and underlined her exclamations of joy with gestures of her arms, her face wearing an adoring smile for the child allegedly growing inside her.

"Mon père ne se soucie pas de moi*." He muttered as Annabelle continuously told him about the wonderful life they would share. In her imagination it was wonderful, in Jonathans it was horrific. He wanted to have a life like this with his dear boy, not with the person fuelling his nightmares.

He had to escape again, for his own sake, for the sake of the child and for his dear boys sake.

*my father does not care for me.

#amrev oc #amrev #redcoat alexander au #post war #jonabelle #oneshot #oc oneshot #oc fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #unhealthy relationships

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nana-71926 · 3 months ago

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Author's Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Brian is a riddle that Roger is determined to get to the bottom of. Enjoy! XD

Excerpt:

May 1865

“It’s getting late,” Roger said, slowly rising from his seat, “and I am keeping you from your rest. I hope you have been sleeping well lately, my friend?”

He was pleased to see color flood Brian’s wan cheeks. “Very well, thank you,” Brian replied, reluctantly leading the way through the narrow passageway to the door. “I’ve been having good dreams lately.”

Roger smiled as Brian looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “That is good. You ought to rest as much as you can to get your strength back.”

Brian’s answering smile gave way to a look of consternation as he opened the front door. “Oh,” he said at the thick, swirling fog. “Oh, no.”

“No matter,” said Roger bracingly. “It’s just a slight mist which will lift in no time. I can find my way home.”

“It’s as thick as pea soup,” Brian protested, dismayed. “You can’t go out there. There might be wolves, or…or something worse.”

Roger would have laughed at the thought of something worse than he, lurking in the dark.

“Stay,” pressed Brian, the urgency of the situation lending him some eloquence. “Stay the night. Here. With me.”

“Are you sure?” Roger queried, brow furrowed. “I do not want to be a bother—”

“You are no bother,” said Brian quickly, growing bolder under Roger’s gaze. “Stay with me.”

Roger gave him his small, sharp smile and said graciously, “Alright. If you insist.”

Buy the Muse some ko-fi to show her some love (and to make her write faster!) ^_~

#queen fanfiction #vampire!queen #brian may x roger taylor #maylor fic #update

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simdertalia · 6 months ago

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🌺🎍 ACNH Harmonious Set: Part 2 🎍🌺

💗 Sims 4, Base game compatible besides 2 items (ourdoor retreat & get together for hearth & dance floor). 55 items. Many extra swatches added by me. Items with only 1 swatch are not pictured in the swatch previews.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

You can raise & lower items with 0 and 9 on your keyboard.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

I hope you enjoy! ☺️ Download below, all in a zip file or pick & choose!

I hope you enjoy!

Type “ACNH harmonious 2” into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on September 1st, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

Harmonious Set 1

-Potted Palm CC & Plumeria Blooms -Sakura Branch in Vase CC -Altar Cloth CC

The rest of my CC

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asa-do-your-thing · 1 year ago

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The rainbow trout

Robb Stark x Frey Reader 18 + MINORS DNI WC: 5,1k Warnings: forced marriage, mentions death, alcohol, dubcon, angst

You knew you weren't his first choice. You also knew what would happen, should Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, not accept your hand, so you did everything in your power to convince him to marry anyone of your female relatives. You sent him coded messages, diguised yourself and warned his pregnant lady... You did everything in your might to persuade him.

That was why it hurt you even more that when he came to the Twins and told you all to stand in a big semi circle ordered by your ages - you stood almost at the farthest end, having only just flowered - and he walked over to your aunts and older cousins, all past the ages of five and twenty. Everything within you itched to call out to him - King of the North, 'tis I who saved you!

But Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, was a man known for his honor and duty. He gave each woman a polite nod, exchanged pleasantries and, with a hint of discomfort in his eyes, moved along the line. You watched him as he went from your eldest aunt, Lady Amarei, a stout woman with greying hair and a face that had lost the battle with age long ago; to your cousin Alyx, then onto Waldene and Wylda - all older than you by several years and already mothers to their own broods, though you supposed it was pleasing for him to see their fertility.

The air in the Great Hall was thick with expectation as the Young Wolf made his way down the line of eligible Frey women. The flickering light from the hundreds of candles gave an ethereal glow to the scene, casting dancing shadows along stone walls adorned with the ancient heraldry of House Frey. The wheels of your father's great wooden chair creaked as he shifted his weight, watching his potential son-in-law examine his flock.

As Robb Stark drew closer to you, your heart pounded in your chest. Despite your best efforts to maintain decorum, your hands were clammy against the lush fabric of your dress. When he finally stood before you, his azure eyes met yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. His face was unreadable; he made no comments about your youth or offered any compliments as he had done for some of your relatives.

He nodded once before moving on to your younger sister - a girl who barely even knew how to keep her hair out of her soup bowl - and then carried on down the line. You could feel the disappointment welling up and looked up in amazement when he went back up to his previous spot. He... knew what would happen should he not accept any one of them? What was he doing?

Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, turned back to look you in the eyes. His gaze caught yours in a strange dance, akin to two foxes circling one another before withdrawing. He thanked your father, Lord Walder, for his hospitality and the introduction to his lovely daughters and nieces. His voice echoed along the stone hall, each word punctuated by silence from the gathered Freys.

"Before I proceed," he announced, raising an eyebrow as if he had just been struck by a sudden thought, "I would like to ask a question about a small rainbow trout." The hall fell silent.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The 'rainbow trout'. The code you had used so many times in your letters to him. You had used it as a symbol of danger, warning him of impending peril. And now he was using it back at you.

The question Robb asked was incredibly mundane in its nature for anyone else. Yet behind those words, there lay a hidden realm of understanding known only to Robb and yourself; its context spread across a plethora of secret letters exchanged between you two under various pseudonyms over the years. The audience stared at him blankly while your mind raced to pick up the hidden message in his query.

Just then, your innocent little sister nudged you and whispered in your ear right below a breath. "Has King Robb gone coo-coo?" You could hardly suppress the laughter that bubbled within you at her naive words. She didn’t understand what was passing between Robb and yourself and for that, you were both relieved and eternally grateful.

"No dear one," you whispered back, patting her small hand. " he's simply curious about our streams."

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd as they tried to comprehend the Young Wolf’s peculiar question. Lord Walder, from his high seat, let out a puff of irritation. "Is this a jest, Stark?" he asked gruffly.

The Young Wolf looked at him, his eyes hardening. "Not at all," he replied sternly. "In fact, it is rather important."

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor and felt your heart flutter with anticipation. Robb turned his gaze back to you, the hardness softening once more into a look filled with intent and secret understanding.

"Your rainbow trout seems quite interesting." The Young Wolf finally spoke in his clear voice, echoing through the hall, carrying a message for you alone amongst the throng of confused onlookers. His words were enigmatic and carried an underlying layer of significance that no one but you could decipher.

The corners of your lips curled into an involuntary smile as you met his gaze and nodded subtly. You understood what he was trying to say, what he had so bravely alluded to in front of all your family members.

"And what would such a trout want?" asked Lord Walder impatiently. His sharp gaze pierced through Robb Stark who merely smirked and shrugged lightly.

"That’s for the trout to know," replied the Young Wolf cryptically. Before anyone could question further, he bowed courteously towards Lord Walder and then swept an arm towards you in an elegant gesture. "Perhaps your young lady there can provide me an answer?"

"Walderette?", your father croaked out and raised an eyebrow.

A big rumble went through the hall and you blushed up to your roots, not used to being stared at. This was pressure and you needed to handle it quickly and well - so well that your old, disgusting flea of a father would forget about this instance.

"Yes, Father?" You responded, managing to keep your voice steady, despite the thudding of your heart. Your eyes slipped towards Robb who looked at you encouragingly.

Your father huffed, "You'll entertain The Young Wolf's humor about our trout?"

"Of course, Father," you replied softly, your gaze locked with Robb's. An understanding passed between you two, an assurance that somehow he would make things right.

You then cleared your throat and addressed the hall in a voice far more confident than you felt. "Rainbow trout," you began, glancing at Robb who nodded subtly as if urging you to go on. "Is a delicacy in our rivers. It’s versatile and can thrive in different environments. It can be elusive yet it can be caught if one is patient and diligent."

The room was quiet as everyone watched you curiously. Your father squinted his eyes at you while your younger sister nervously bobbed up and down on her feet. He didn't dare suspect anything, or else your fate would be just the same - being slit open by your family.

"It is very good when smoked and lasts long, and it is easy to transport. It goes well with pickles-"

Lord Walder raised his hand and shrugged. "Yes, Wald... Walderette your name was, right? Rainbow trout is good." He looked at Robb, who gave him a relatively neutral look. "And you are sure you want... her? I have girls with prettier faces, bigger tits and that talk less nonesense."

Robb didn’t flinch under Lord Walder’s crude remarks. Instead, his gaze seemed only to harden, a touch of steel flashing in his eyes as he coolly met the old lord's gaze. "Aye," he said, holding your gaze again with a softness that contrasted sharply with the icy tone he had used for Walder.

"I'm sure." His blue eyes glittered with certainty and warmth. Your heart fluttered, nearly missing a beat at his declaration. To have him, Robb Stark, The Young Wolf, choose you in front of everyone felt as surreal as it was exciting.

Lord Walder grumbled something incoherent under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his high seat. His gaze oscillated between you and Robb before finally settling on the young king with a grudging acceptance. He sighed heavily and grunted out a curt, “Very well.”

A murmur rippled through the hall, turning into excited whispers that echoed around the stone walls. This was unprecedented; a Frey girl chosen to be betrothed to the King in the North!

Your sisters looked at you with wide eyes, surprise and envy coloring their expressions. You could almost feel their piercing stares burrowing into your back, but you didn’t care. Robb had chosen you. And even though this was part of a grand scheme that remained secret from most, an indescribable joy surged within you at being chosen by him.

Robb then leaned slightly towards you, his voice barely audible above the hushed chatter. "I hope I picked the right trout," he murmured to you, a glint of worry in his eyes.

"There is only the one, my King," you reassured him with a small smile and breathed out once everyone went back to their seats - even the women, which gave you the greatest hope of there not being a massacre tonight. "Though if I find out anything that will hurt you or your... uh, friend, I will give you a signal and lots of likeminded trouts will help."

Robb nodded, his gaze fixed on yours. His eyes were the color of a stormy sky - deep, chilling, and deadly if challenged. Without breaking the eye contact, he whispered back, "I am looking forward to seeing what a school of like-minded trouts can do, thoug I hope I shall never feel the need to see them."

A hush fell over the room as Lord Walder straightened in his chair and clapped his hands together sharply. "Enough of these fish conversations," he barked, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It's time to sit down for the feast. You're to be wed! My grandson shall be a King!"

As the guests began to shuffle towards their seats, you took Robb's arm and led him to the high table alongside Lord Walder and his newest wife. The woman, who was no more than a year older than you, was beautiful in a fragile kind of way. Her honey-coloured hair was bound up intricately with tiny pearls gleaming in between her locks. She shot you an encouraging smile as you both took your seats.

Throughout the feast that ensued, she would lean towards you from time to time, whispering coded words in your ear between bites of her meal or sips of her wine. "Remember," she once whispered casually as she spread some butter on her bread, "the pickles are of a dangerously spicy sort."

"Just the pickles?" You asked just as casually, keeping your gaze focused on your own plate.

She nodded subtly in response before turning her attention back to her own meal.

The night wore on with laughter and merriment filling the air beneath the vaulted ceilings of the hall. Everyone seemed at ease - even Robb appeared more relaxed now. However, underneath the surface, you were still fully ready to run. Your father was everything, but a honest man and nothing could fully guarantee your safety.

As the feast came to a close, Lord Walder rose to his feet with all the grace of a prowling cat despite his advanced years. "May I have your attention!" he bellowed, effectively silencing the chatter throughout the hall. He nodded his approval at the sudden quiet before turning his steely gaze towards you and Robb.

"It seems to me," he began, his voice carrying an uncanny edge that made the hair on your neck stand up. "That we're forgetting one important detail of this evening."

His gaze intensified as he continued, "These two lovebirds are yet to be wed!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. You felt Robb stiffen beside you, but your father's newest wife pressed a reassuring hand on your arm. It was, after all, part of their ploy.

A frail old septon shuffled forward from among the crowd. The wrinkles on his face gathered into deep crevices as he smiled warmly at you and Robb. He held out a red silken ribbon - your symbol of unity in this farce of a marriage.

You found yourself whispering vows under his quiet instruction, your voice choked by anticipation and fear while Robb's steady and firm words only added another layer to your pounding heart.

"And now," Walder announced gleefully once you'd both spoken your vows. "Seal it with a kiss."

Robb hesitated for a moment before leaning in, his warm lips brushing against yours in a chaste but lingering kiss. The hall erupted in cheers, and for a fleeting moment, it felt real - like true love had finally found your side, yet you knew that this'd be a farce. But then again, what would a loveless marriage be against dozens of dead innocents?

"Take the lovers away! Undress them!", croaked Walder and grinned implishly as a mass of Frey girls came and picked Robb up. Silencing his prostest with the smallest of nods, you, in turn let yourself be carried by some Stark men.

The crowd of Stark men was like a sea of shadows, each figure blurred into the next by the dim candlelight. The soft murmur of their voices was punctuated by the occasional chuckle or whisper as they carried you away through a labyrinth of stone corridors. The cold, rough-hewn stones beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth and merriment of the feasting hall. The ancient walls echoed with tales of grandeur and battle, each echo ringing in your ears as an ominous forewarning.

With each step, you felt your heart drumming wildly in your chest - this was unchartered territory, a dance with danger and uncertainty. You stole a glance at the jumbled mass of Frey girls disappearing with Robb into another corridor, his eyes locked onto yours for an infinitesimal second before he was swallowed by the throng.

You were ushered up a winding staircase, its spiralling steps leading you to a chamber high above the ground. The door creaked open to reveal a room bathed in soft moonlight. It wasn't chained and barred like the dungeons you'd feared, but rather adorned with silken tapestries depicting intricate hunting scenes.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you entered. The room felt strangely comforting with its high vaulted ceiling and large canopy bed draped in furs. A lone window overlooked rolling meadows bathed in silver moonlight, their serene beauty belying the uncertainty that lay ahead.

The Stark men began to undress you, their roughened hands deft yet respectful on your garments. Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage and only stopped once Robb came into the room, dressed only in a sheet that was held up by your giggling sisters. He quickly excused his men and gave the girls the same, stern look.

"Good night, little fish!", "Have fun!" and "Make sure that you'll make a king tonight!" were their parting words as the filed out, giggling.

The heavy door shut behind them with a reverberating thud that echoed in the silence of the chamber. The echo faded, leaving only your heartbeat to fill the quiet space. You turned to face Robb, his striking blue eyes filled with an uncertainty that mirrored your own. The bronze-toned light of the hearth danced across his features and played in his hair, casting him somewhat divine in your sight.

His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy sigh that seemed to shake the very air around you both. The silence hung between you two like a tangible veil as he slowly approached you.

"We needn't…" he began, his voice gravelly and low – softer than you'd ever heard it. Suddenly, all of his kingly stature seemed to melt away, leaving behind only a boy burdened by expectations.

"I know," you quickly cut in, eager to relieve him of his discomfort. "I could just…" You trailed off, suddenly aware of the crude absurdity of your plan. But you pressed on, forcing out the words as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "... just scratch myself open…"

Robb's gaze flickered downward before snapping back up to meet yours, a horrified look crossing his face.

"I mean... people just want some proof… or else... or else there will be talk... we could pretend…” You stumbled over your words, unable to keep eye contact with him anymore.

A moment passed where only the crackling flames dared break the silence. Then Robb let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly before he met your gaze again.

"You remind me why I chose you for this alliance," he said with a warmth in his voice that took you by surprise, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. "You're willing to hurt yourself just to protect our farce, and the people we're sworn to protect."

His thumb swept across your cheekbone, drawing a shiver from you. There was honesty in his eyes - a rarity in this world of duplicity and deceit - and it was startling.

"You don't need to do that," Robb continued, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile. "We'll find another way. A better way." He let his hand drop, but the warmth lingered on your skin, spreading like wildfire through your body.

"Robb…" You began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No need for formalities," he said with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "We're married now, remember?"

He was attempting light-hearted banter – an attempt to alleviate the tension hanging thick between you two, and it was surprisingly endearing. Still though, unease crept back into your heart. After all, what other way could there be?

"But they will expect…" You started again.

"We'll be careful," he interrupted once more. "And we'll be smart. Let them think what they will."

A knock resounded at the door then – a single, harsh rap that echoed in the chamber and made both of you jump.

"Shall I pour the wine?" A thin voice floated in through the heavy oak door, belonging to an old servant woman probably sent by Lord Walder himself to see their progress.

"Yes," Robb called back after sharing an understanding glance with you.

The Lady came in and hobbled her way towards a small table, filling two cups with a cheap red wine, one that smelled more like a tincture than a lovely Dornish Red. To add to that, she set down a small dish of pickles. "If you do not manage to do your duties tonight, your Lady sends this dish to bring you back to your senses.

You began to panic slightly and nodded at her, doing your best to mime an innocent. Walking over to the small table, you dismissed her and quickly gave Robb his glass. As soon as the Lady went away again, you stripped and gulped down the beastly drink, positioning yourself on the bed like a bitch in heat.

Robb, for his part, wore a look of sheer surprise as he followed your unceremonious actions with wide eyes. He took a deep breath, setting his own glass down on the table beside him before he turned back to you. His cheeks were flushed a delicate pink - a stark contrast to his usual pale complexion - and he looked almost boyish under the soft candlelight.

"Please," he started, his voice rough in the quiet of the room, "You don't need to do this. Not like this." His gaze was steady and honest as it met yours, and his words tugged at your heartstrings.

But your mind was filled with vivid images of Lady Catelyn's tear-stained face and Rob's pregnant girlfriend - their lives hanging by the thinnest of threads because of you. You swallowed hard, pushing away the comforting warmth of his words. "We can't risk it Robb," you insisted. Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his mop of auburn hair. But he made no move to stop you from lying back against the bed – your back cold against the rough fabric beneath you. He looked at you then – really looked at you – taking in your determined expression and your trembling hands.

For a moment, all was silent in the room - save for the crackling flames.

Then, without another word, he began to disrobe himself with an air of solemnity that felt too heavy for the occasion. He moved carefully, meticulously even, stopping momentarily to kick away his modesty sheet before he joined you on the bed.

"Lie on your back, Walderette. I needn't take you like an animal," he whispered solemnly as he made sure to keep his eyes on your face.

His voice was low and gentle, a tender lullaby whispered in the quiet of the night. It was an unexpected sweetness that only made your heart hurt with more force, your guilt gnawing away at you like a starved beast. But you nodded, complying with his request and shifting position, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

A silence descended upon the room as he settled down beside you, his broad form dwarfing yours. His muscled arms propped him up as he leaned over you, his gaze never wavering from your face. You closed your eyes, your breath hitching as you felt the cool touch of his hands against the bare skin of your sides.

He stayed silent as his hands began to wander, their slow and deliberate movements adding an excruciating tension to the silence. He explored without hurry; his fingers ghosting over every rise and fall of your body as if committing it to memory.

You could feel the heat radiating off him – a feverish warmth that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Any other night, under any other circumstances, the feeling would've sent pleasing shivers down your spine.

"I…" you choked out, opening your eyes to find Robb hovering over you. His body pressed against yours in an almost comforting manner but it did nothing to dampen the guilt-ridden fear gnawing at your insides. "I… don't know what I'm doing," you admitted softly.

Robb's eyes darkened slightly at your confession but he gave you a small smile nonetheless. "It's alright," he whispered back reassuringly. "Neither do I, really. I've never... had to... take someone."

You blushed and gave him a shy smile. "I am not completely against it. Just... do whatever needs to be done and if we will not manage to create an heir, I am sure we will be able to do this... everything, under better circumtances."

“Are you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes met yours, the steady gaze filled with an equal measure of fear and determination.

"Yes," you answered just as softly, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew there was no other option. The lives of those you cared for were at stake. This was a small price to pay for their safety.

Robb nodded, his face a solemn mask. His eyes held yours, a lingering connection in the quiet room. He moved closer, laying his body against yours in a slow, deliberate manner. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the rapid beats of his heart echoing your own.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, and you complied without question. His lips found yours then, a tender kiss that tasted of wine and apprehension. His lips moved against yours gently, coaxing you into a rhythm that was as haunting as it was comforting.

His hands moved up your sides, skimming past the sensitive skin of your torso to rest at the sides of your face. He pulled back slightly from the kiss, his breath warm against your cheek as he began to whisper words meant only for you. They were soft promises of safety and care; sweet nothings that melted your worries away like morning fog under the sun's rays.

In spite of the circumstances, the tension in the room dissipated at his gentle ministrations. Your body relaxed under his touch, fear and uncertainty replaced with a sense of security.

Then he was moving again, inch by agonizing inch. The heat of him was all-encompassing now; a comforting weight pressing down on you with each passing moment. You let out a gasp when he finally pushed forward – a soft sound drowned out by the crackling fire and rustle of fabric.

It was not painful nor pleasurable - merely an odd discomfort that became more bearable as Robb began to move with slow rhythm, whispering soothing words into your ear. His hands never left your body – one rested on the small of your back, the other cradling your face. His thumb stroked your cheekbone in small circles, drawing out a soothing pattern that almost lulled you into a trance.

The room had become warmer, or maybe it was just the heat radiating from Robb — every inch of his bare skin touching yours, filling your senses with his presence. You clung to him, hands clenched on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he moved with quiet determination. You kept your eyes closed, taking in every sensation, every small sound he made as time stretched thin between each heartbeat.

He smelled of wood smoke and winter air. A hint of the strong drink you both had shared still lingered on his breath mixed with the warm scent of his skin. Each breath he drew was a low sigh against your ear, a soft symphony playing under the rustle of linen and crackle of fire.

His movements remained slow and deliberate — no rush, no urgency. He was careful with you, maintaining a rhythm that was mindful and tender. His touch was gentle but firm, holding you close yet giving you space to breathe. His lips found your forehead once more, pressing a soft kiss there.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly once again, pulling back slightly to look at you. His voice was barely audible over the slow rhythm of his body and your combined breaths.

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes held an intense mixture of concern and uncertainty, but also a strange form of peace, as if in this moment he had found some sense of purpose.

"I... am," you answered truthfully – Your body was tingling from the strange experience but there was no pain or discomfort anymore - only an odd sense of warmth... and maybe even something akin to contentment.

His gaze held yours, his expression softening at your words. A sigh of relief escaped him as he lowered his lips to meet yours again. His kiss was languid, unhurried, a complete contradiction to the rapid beating of your hearts.

He whispered your name between soft kisses and gentle touches, turning it into a sweet lullaby that danced with the crackling flames in the hearth.

Gradually, your world shrunk until it was made up of Robb alone—the rhythm of his breaths matching your own, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and his whispered words filling the silence. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly; seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours as you lost yourself in him.

When he finally pulled back after depositing his hot spend in you, it was slow and deliberate. You felt a pang of loss as the warmth of his body disappeared only to be replaced by the cool air of the room. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer before he moved them away too. He didn’t look at you as he rolled onto his side, putting some distance between you two.

It was understandable, you thought to yourself. His true love was outside, in th tents, worrying about her lover, the father of her babe.

For a long while, there was only silence in the room. You could still hear the faint sounds of Robb's steady breathing and feel his warmth beside you, but there was a sense of melancholy in the air that you couldn’t ignore.

The embers from the fire were slowly dying out and you knew that dawn was approaching; still, neither of you made any attempt to speak or move.

Eventually, Robb broke the silence, "I'm sorry..." His voice was barely audible over the dying embers. He turned towards you again, worry etched on his face, quickly wrapping the towel around himself.

"I don't know why I did that... I shouldn't have..."

His words hung in the air, heavy with regret. You turned your gaze to him, seeing the anguish painted across his face. The light from the dying fire cast a soft glow on his features, emphasizing the shadows of guilt etched deep within his eyes.

"It's okay..." you whispered, laying a hand gently on his arm. "It was necessary."

But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. You were both trapped in a situation neither of you wanted to be in. Each decision made out of obligation, not desire. It was a cruel reality, one that seemed determined to tear you both apart.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for any sign of resentment or pain. When he found none, he let out a sigh, heavy with relief.

"I wish things were different," he said after a long silence, his voice barely audible over the crackling embers. "I wish we could choose our own paths."

You chewed your lower lip, contemplating his words. You knew what he meant. Your lives were dictated by forces beyond your control-- duty, responsibility and a looming war that threatened everything you held dear.

"We can't change what's already happened," you said quietly, meeting his gaze. "All we can do is move forward and make the best of what we have."

He nodded at your words although his expression remained pained. He reached out to take your hand into his own larger one and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, getting up and handing you your dress.

"No, thank you, my King," you said with a small smile. "Let us leave this horrid place."

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