#theon greyjoy x y/n

[welldonebeca]

Lookalike (I)

Summary: When Jon Snow’s name day arrives, Theon Greyjoy hires you as a gift for him. But will you awake feelings they’ve been trying to hide from themselves? WC: 2.9k words Warnings: Canon divergence. Smut. Role play. Virginity Kink. Innocence Kink. Dirty talk. Prostitution.

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Masterlist

You were wearing your prettiest dress when you arrived at Winterfell, riding your horse into the gates just as the sun set down.

It was very nice, looking like a lady sometimes, with your hair up and people looking at you respectfully, and not trying to take a bite out of you.

The guards even let you step inside, and one of them showed you a place where your old girl could rest and eat a little bit, and didn’t ask you too many questions.

You weren’t even finished tying her into place when the young ward who’d brought you here arrived to get you.

Theon Greyjoy.

You were very familiar with him. This wasn’t the first time you saw one another - and probably wouldn’t be the last - but your interaction was new. All of the other times, it was he who came to you, visiting your brothel, but tonight seemed to be special enough that he had requested that you came to see him in Winterfell.

“My lady,” he smirked at you, cocky.

“Lord Greyjoy,” you scoffed, picking your bag from her.

Very funny of him.

“Oh, come on,” he rolled his eyes and gestured to you. “You are wearing away too much for a whore.”

You shook your head, moving to his side, and he slapped your ass, pulling your body close.

“Let me see what’s underneath that under a better light,” he teased you.

You skimmed away from him, slapping his hand out of the way.

“I don’t think Lord Stark will appreciate you groping a whore in his yard,” you remarked. “Much less my presence in his castle.”

He scoffed.

“I told them you are here to assist in the kitchen,” he told you. “And you are going to leave tomorrow because you were intimidated by me. It’s simple.”

Gods, what a mess.

“Oh, yes,” you taunted him. “Intimidated by the big and strong ward of Winterfell. Oh, Lord Greyjoy, don’t seduce me, I’m saving myself for farmboy lover. He promised he will marry me as soon as his father allows it.”

Your words were very quick to sour his mood, and he grabbed your elbow.

“Just get inside,” he grunted. l

You followed Theon through the walls silently. Winterfell was a big castle, and a true fortress. One could walk through it for days and never see all of it.

"What's in the bag?" he threw a look over his shoulder as you walked into his chambers.

When the owner of your brothel told you to come, she said Theon wanted you to look like you were going to stay in the castle, and not spend a single night. So, as to look convincing, you took your trip as a time you could use to buy a few supplies for yourself and the other girls.

"Needles, fabric, some herbs, oils..." you listed. "Nothing you would be interested in.'

He perked up.

"Is it a special kind of oil?" he asked. "Because I want to stretch you out, little whore."

You wanted to scoff but knew not to push it. Theon wasn't the biggest man you had ever had in your life, though he wanted you to act like he was.

"Some of them," you raised your chin. "Some are just to make us smell good."

He pulled you close, and this time you didn't reject him, just stretching your neck to the side so he could sniff you.

"And you always smell so good, don't you?" he ran his nose on your skin.

“I do,” you hummed.

Theon pulled away suddenly, and you watched as he moved to his bedside.

“Well, I need you to smell different tonight,” he loosened his cloak, tossing it on his bed. “You are… a bit of a gift tonight.”

You watched him closely. Of course, you knew this wasn’t a simple visit. You weren’t dumb to think he just wanted to change his usual environment.

“I believe you heard that Lord Stark’s bastard just recently turned 18,” he pointed out. “Jon Snow.”

There was no one in the Seven Kingdoms who hadn’t heard of Jon Snow. Lord Stark’s only fault, the torn in his flash. His little bastard boy.

The event, of course, was overshadowed by Lord Stark’s firstborn’s nameday, just a few days before his dear brother.

“And I’m his nameday gift?” you asked.

He grabbed a little bottle of oil and dangled it in his hands, walking to you.

“And since I’m a good friend, I got him the best whore in Wintertown,” he smirked.

He opened the bottle, and raised it to your nose, so you could give it a little sniff before he dabbed it on the two sides of your neck.

It was a rose perfume - and a very expensive one, considering how strong it smelt.

“So tomorrow, you are going to bathe, and put on this sweet oil,” he closed the bottle again. “You’ll braid your hair all nicely, and wear that pretty dress of yours, and you are going to surprise our Lord Snow.”

Tomorrow.

“And tonight?” you asked.

Theon smirked.

“You don’t think I would have you come all the way here and then not fuck you, right?” he asked.

You simply nodded. It made a lot of sense.

“And you’re going to fuck me in your bed?” you teased him.

“All night long,” he moved his hands to your dress, untying from around your waist. “It might be his nameday, but he isn’t the only one who deserves some fun, right?”

Theon kissed your lips before you could think much more, and you let him guide you along as your dress fell to the floor, and he did the same thing with the shift you were wearing underneath for warmth before pulling you along to his bed.

“You are a very sweet whore,” he touched your chin, raising your chin and moving his thumb over your lips. “But I need you to be an innocent girl for me tonight. That’s how you’ll be for Jon."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Innocent?” you asked.

Theon pushed your hair out of your shoulders, caressing your skin.

“An innocent little girl,” he spoke softly. “A virgin whore, if I may say.”

You had never been a virgin whore. A virgin? Yes. A whore? You’ve been that for a long time, but you were already fucking when you decided it was best to be paid for it.

“Milord,” you shuddered. “I… maybe you’ve asked for the wrong woman? I’ve… I’ve never done it before, I’ve never been with a man.”

His face showed a bit of confusion for a moment, but Theon relaxed the moment he seemed to understand.

"Oh, no, I did not," Theon purred, brushing back your hair. "You think I haven’t seen you? Teasing me down the halls? As your bosom blossoms…”

You forced your face to stay innocent as he spoke, and he caressed your neck.

"Do you know how much I wanted to have you for me, pretty girl?" he asked you.

You shook your head.

"I wanted to be your first man," he cooed. "Show you how good you can feel, how much pleasure I can give you."

"But milord!" you gasped. "We aren't even married."

Theon chuckled.

"You are going to be a virgin whore for Jon," he reminded you, very stern. "But to me..."

You waited. Of course.

"We don't have to be married, little love," he spoke softly. "It's alright."

He moved his face to your neck, kissing your skin, and you shivered.

"What about my father?" you gasped.

Theon licked and nibbled on your skin.

"Don’t worry about out that," he whispered. "It won't count."

He took his hands to your breasts, caressing your naked tits, pinching your skin.

“We won’t do much,” he promised. “I won’t spill inside you.”

You rubbed your thighs together, a little more excited than you wished he knew.

It was a sweet scenario, this one. One you had thought about in the nights when you had to warm your own cunt and make yourself wet for clients with good gold, but not much consideration.

Theon wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, carrying you to his bed and tossing you on it, and you were quick to close your legs and pull his cloak to cover your body, earning a lustful look from him.

“It’s alright, my little maiden,” he reached for you, taking your foot and slowly massaging it. “Don’t you trust me?”

You gulped, but nodded, knowing better than to drag this.

“I trust you, milord,” you whispered.

Theon smirked wickedly.

“Such a sweet girl.”

He reached for you, and undressed you once again.

“So pretty,” he purred. “Look at those perky little tits. I can’t believe you hide them away.”

You covered your tits with your half-assedly.

"Mother says I'm still young," you affirmed, feigning embarrassment. "That they'll still grow more."

He hummed along, clicking his tongue.

“I can make them grow for you,” he cooed. “Make your tits big and heavy, if you want to.”

You eyed him suspiciously.

“How?”

Theon smirked and climbed on top of you, kissing your collarbones before moving his lips to your breasts, and kissing your tit before wrapping his lips around your nipple, licking and sucking on it.

You gasped at the sudden touch, but soon it became a moan as he continued to lick, and suck and nibble, pulling on your nipple with his teeth scrapping your skin, and using his free hand to knead and squeeze your free breast before repeating his mouth movements with his fingers.

“You’re such a beauty,” he moved his lips away from your skin, moving his hands to your legs. “Men are going to kill for you, but they won’t know I was the first… the first one you let in…”

Theon kissed your stomach, licking the skin of your navel, and you shuddered.

He wasn’t… was he?

“The first one who ever got to get his eyes on this cunt,” he hummed. “And such a pretty cunt it is.”

You squirmed under his gaze, a little unease. Men didn’t take a lot of time looking at your cunt. Maybe at your tits, and at your naked bodies, but they never gazed at your cunt.

“Look at those fiery red locks,” he exhaled, touching you with his finger, and you sucked in a breath, startled.

Theon looked up at you, but didn’t seem much interested in the reasoning behind it.

“Pretty lady,” he rubbed you up and down, from your entrance to the button above it. “With a pretty cunt.”

You squirmed.

“Milord,” you whimpered. “What are you doing?”

“My Lord,” he corrected you softly.

“My lord,” you repeated.

He hummed along, reaching for you, and his finger reached your entrance, circling it slowly.

“Fingering you, sweet girl,” he said simply.

You panted, eager. His finger was slowly circling you, dipping in and then pulling out, not giving you anything.

“But my maidenhead,” you protested.

Theon didn't seem any detained, once again dipping his finger and pulling back.

"It won't break with just my fingers," he rested her leg on his shoulder.

A blatant lie, clearly.

"Are you sure?" you panted, a little needy.

Would he just fucking put that finger in?

"I am, my little lady," he kissed her thigh. "And you trust me, don't you? Your sweet Theon."

You nodded, looking for the meaning of his words.

"I do," you shuddered.

He slid a single finger into you, and you relaxed in relief, whimpering when he just pushed a second one right after, probably thinking it didn't matter for a whore like you.

"There you go," he purred. "There you go, my sweet lady."

"Theon," you moNed, not stopping to correct yourself.

He squeezed your thigh a little closer, curling his fingers.

"Yes, my sweet lady " he exhaled. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

"Yes," she confirmed, breathless.

He moved up your body, kissing your neck and chest as he fingered you,  spreading you open, so sweet and patient he didn't even feel like himself.

"Theon," you whined as he pushed a third finger.

He angled his hand, and you moaned when the heel of his hand finally came to rub your bud.

Seven hells, you just wanted to peak! Couldn't he be merciful?

"Theon," you whined. "Please."

He nuzzled your neck.

"Please what, my sweet lady?"

You bit back your tongue.

"I... I..." you stuttered. "I don't know, just... Please. Please."

"Here?" he pressed harder against your bud. "This place, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you gasped.

He hummed along.

"And what do you need?" he purred.

You squirmed, and he fucked you harder with his fingers.

"I don't know," you arched your hips.

Greyjoy nearly growled.

"My sweet little lady," he cooed. "Your cunt is squeezing my fingers so much. Don't you know what that means?"

"It's strange," you panted. "I feel strange."

"It's alright," he assured you. "It's going to feel food in just a second. Let it happen, sweet girl."

You closed your eyes, moaning and arching your body, letting the pleasure take you.

"Theon," you cried. "Theon!"

"Peak for me, sweet girl," he hummed into your neck. "Let me feel your cunt squeeze my fingers, my lady."

You finally broke, peaking and crying as he continued to fuck you and play with you.

"There you go," he whispered into your neck. "There you go, sweet Sansa."

And finally, it made sense.

This wasn't the first time someone hinted or outrightly said you looked like Lady Sansa. You were older than her, and she was much prettier, but in the dark, all tall girls with red hair and blue eyes could be the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell.

All men wanted to fuck noble ladies. Many wanted to fuck the young innocent daughter of Lord Stark.

His ward wasn't any different.

He kissed you right after, devouring your lips hungrily, holding you close with his free hand.

“Theon,” you panted.

“Let me show you more,” he settled between your legs, and you could feel his hard cock against your entrance. “Please, sweet girl.”

You rubbed your nose on his.

“Sansa,” you whispered to him. “I’m your Sansa, Theon.”

His cock twitched under you.

“Sweet Sansa,” he held you tighter. “Let me make you feel good.”

You moaned, arching your hips, and he his cock into you, the thick head breaching your cunt’s entrance.

“You want me don’t you?” he hissed into your neck, breathing in deep, sniffing your perfumed skin. “Sneaking glances at me at dinner, letting me listen to your sweet songs?”

“I do,” you panted.

He pushed more into you.

“I want you so much,” you panted. “My Theon.”

Theon pulled your hips up tight, lifting your legs and putting them on his shoulders as he pushed his cock deep into you, making you gasp.

“I’ll fucking show you,” he growled. “I’ll be so good for you, sweet Sansa, I promise I will.”

You put your arms around his body, squeezing him close, knowing he wanted his fanstasy and giving it to him.

His hips moved in a sweet pace, fucking you slowly, as if to a little virgin he wanted to cherish and didn’t want to hurt.

“I’ll mark you as mine,” he nosed your neck, hungry. “Gonna breed you, give you a baby.”

You moaned, holding him closer.

“I’ll make you the lady of the Iron Islands,” he growled into your neck. “Fill that place with little redhead boys, show everyone how I fuck you every night, I’ll keep you pregnant all the time.”

Fucking beast of a man.

“Yes, Theon,” you moaned, and cried when his cock hit your sweet spot. “Please, make me your wife.”

His hand moved to your mouth, quickly covering it up with his hand.

“Careful, sweet Sansa,” he panted. “You father mustn’t know.”

You nodded, though still moaned when his cock brushed against your sweet spot again.

Theon was a fast learner. When he felt generous, he knew exactly when to make you feel pleasure.

And right now, you were his sweet Sansa, of course he would want you to feel the most pleasure.

Your peak threatened you again, and you arched your hips to him.

“Theon,” you panted, innocent, against his hand. “It’s… please… again.”

He growled into your neck.

“You’re going to peak for me again, sweet Sansa?” he asked. “I can feel your cunt squeezing my cock. Such a strong grip, my little maiden.”

“Please,” you panted. “I don’t know-”

“It’s alright,” he kissed your skin. “I can do it for you, sweet girl. Just take it. Keep giving me your sweet moans and I’ll do everything for you.”

You let him, and just rode your pleasure, peaking around his cock and taking it when you felt him trembling over you, spilling into your cunt as you still felt the sweet shocks.

He stayed inside you for a moment, tangled with you, sniffing your neck and holding you close, and you could feel the moment he remembered who he was laying with. Not his sweet Sansa, but just a whore.

“Alright,” he huffled, pulling away from you. “You can go now. Come back before the sun is down and I’ll help you dress up right to go to Jon.”

You frowned, confused.

“Go?” you asked. “Where?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Go down to the servants quarters or something,” he grunted. “They are waiting for a kitchen girl, anyway.”

You sighed, but picked up your things, dressing up and putting on your cloak, grabbing your bag.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

“I’ll pay you when you are done with Jon,” he warned you.

You nodded before leaving.

At least you would have a warm bed for the night.

. . .

"Lookalike" was posted on my Patreon back in October 2022! To read it before anyone else and have early access to my stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month, and it helps a lot!

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Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross @ietss

[bumblesimagines]

The Wolf's Guard

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The love between a wolf and their darling is unbreakable, even if that darling is a Bolton.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

~~~

If the Starks were known for anything, it was their honor, duty, and family values. Everyone in all of Westeros knew it, from the poor to the rest of the Great Houses, as many had bore witness to those traits at play. The wolves of the north, the pack that'd once been called Kings, had bent the knee willingly during Aegon's Conquest and from then on, were known as Wardens of the North.

The glorious House Stark of Winterfell. Robb still vividly remembered the days in which he and his bastard brother, Jon Snow, were taught the history of their ancestors. Brandon the Boisterous, Cregan Stark, Rodwell Stark, Rickard Stark... Robb knew their names well, knew the significance of their importance to his bloodline. They were his ancestors, warriors with wolf's blood coursing through their veins, and blood that ran through his. Just like them, Robb is heir to Winterfell, the firstborn son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. And while Robb's heart valued honor, duty, and family over all else, there were times when he wished he hadn't been born first.

The first time he took his mind off his duty as heir (a duty everyone constantly reminded him of every waking moment) was when Roose Bolton brought his second-born son, (Y/N) Bolton, to Winterfell when they were children to become a ward under Eddard Stark. He'd heard about the stories and rumors surrounding the family and their ancestral home, the Dreadfort. Their history was as lengthy as the Starks, with their own ancestors having been once called the Red Kings. While Starks were honorable, Boltons were cruel, cunning, and dishonorable with a tradition of flaying their enemies that they were forced to give up upon being bannermen for the Starks. However, there were rumors they still flayed their prisoners after days and weeks of torture.

Robb and Jon exchanged whispers while their father spoke with Roose Bolton, an unremarkably ordinary-looking man despite the eerie aura that surrounded him and his sons. His eyes were striking, a color so pale and odd that they made shivers run down the spines of the two boys when he looked in their direction. But the prickle of uneasiness that poked at Robb vanished when (Y/N) looked toward him. Jon immediately ducked behind the barrel they'd chosen to hide behind but Robb held his gaze and was rewarded with a grin. 

"Robb," His father had called out, "Come."

Robb immediately obeyed, jumping out from behind the barrel and striding over to his brother. At the age of seven, Robb knew his place as heir very well so he made every attempt at showing everyone the manners and way of nobles he'd been taught. Ned placed a comforting hand over his shoulder and smiled down at his son. "Why don't you show (Y/N) around Winterfell, Robb? His father and I have much to discuss." 

"Yes, Father." Robb nodded, his auburn curls bouncing off his forehead. Domeric Bolton, eldest son of Roose and heir to the Dreadfort, similarly set his hand over his younger brother's shoulder. (Y/N) peered up at his father and then at his brother, lingering even after Roose gave him an approving nod. 

"Go on," Domeric murmured gently and (Y/N) looked back at Robb with a growing smile. 

Robb spent the rest of the day showing (Y/N) around Winterfell, his chest puffing out with pride each time (Y/N) seemed impressed about something. Jon and Theon trailed after them, providing input that (Y/N) largely ignored in favor of giving Robb his full attention, something surprisingly made him squirm. He finished the tour by introducing (Y/N) to his mother and his younger sister, Sansa. Catelyn greeted (Y/N) politely, more kindly than she treated Jon at least, and offered to get some sweets for them after dinner while Sansa clung to her skirts and watched them.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the boys were giggling on a stack of haybale after their latest mischief that Robb had a thought that would continue to emerge: 'I wish he were a girl.'

As they grew and reached their fifteenth name days, they both began showcasing the faithful traits of their house. Robb grew gentler, less mischievous, and showed a strong sense of honor. He continued reading his histories and studied faithfully under the septa, training nearly every day with Ser Rodrick Cassel and accompanying his father whenever he ventured out on hunts or to meet with others. (Y/N) seemingly grew a taste for blood, something that emerged during training. He went easier on Robb than the others, incredibly apparent as Theon and Jon would end up bruised and bloody by the end of each session. But despite Theon's complaints and Jon's worries about (Y/N) fatally injuring someone, Robb could never shake the astonished, fluttery feeling whenever he saw (Y/N). 

"Come on, boy," Ser Rodrick called to the staggering Jon and Robb couldn't help but wince at the trickle of blood going down his nose. Jon wiped it away, his black hair clinging to his dirt-speckled sweaty face. Nobody had to look at Theon to know the boy likely looked pale as winter snow. (Y/N) pointed the - thankfully - wooden sword at Jon and cocked his head to the side, a wide grin across his face. 

"What's wrong, Snow?" (Y/N) taunted, and Jon glared at him, throwing aside his sword and marching right up to (Y/N). The Bolton laughed when Jon grabbed the sides of his chest armor, his teeth digging into his bottom lip before he rammed the end of the sword into Jon's temple. Jon cursed loudly and released him to grab the side of his head, the blow working as intended when (Y/N) slammed his foot into Jon's chest piece and knocked him back. 

"I believe that's enough, aye, lad?" Robb straightened up at the sound of his father's voice, craning his neck to watch Ned step out of the nearby building and approach them with a grimace. He gently clapped the back of (Y/N)'s shoulder to congratulate him, his eyes remaining locked on his bastard son's panting form. "Go see Maester Luwin, Jon."

"May I have a word in private, Lord Stark?" Ser Rodrick asked, earning a curt nod in response. (Y/N)'s eyes followed the two older men as they walked further away from them, their voices drowned out by the hustle and bustle of servants working and guests chatting. His lips formed a noticeable pout, one that made Robb chuckle as he helped take the chest piece off him. 

"They're going to send me home." (Y/N) muttered bitterly.

"They won't," Robb assured him, handing the piece off to a nearby servant and giving them a thankful smile. (Y/N) huffed, the air coming out in a small cloud, and he tossed the sword aside into the dirt beside them. Robb caught a brief look at the knitted brow, sullen expression on his face before (Y/N) turned on his heel and stormed away. Immediately, Robb followed without a second thought, keeping his eyes focused on the boy until they reached the Godswood. 

"Leave me alone, Robb." (Y/N) muttered grumpily, slumping down on the ground beside the water and roughly tugging blades of grass from the ground. 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Robb responded, taking a seat beside him and gazing out into the water. The Godswood had always been a place to seek peace or advice from the Old Gods, a place Robb could visit to clear his mind or simply escape for a brief moment. (Y/N) pursed his lips and Robb smiled, pressing his fingertip against (Y/N)'s cheek and gigging softly when he swatted at his hand. "Come on, tell me." 

"Nobody here likes me. They're scared of me." (Y/N) said quietly, tugging more grass out of the dirt. "Lord Eddard is going to send me home to the Dreadfort, I know he is. Father's going to be mad at me but at least Dom will be there."

Robb stared at him, noticing the way he pressed his lips together to stop them from quivering. "I like you." He revealed softly and (Y/N) tilted his head toward him, eyes flickering between Robb's vibrant blue eyes. Robb's stomach twisted and turned, heat rising up his neck and covering his ears like fire. 

"How much?"

"A lot." He admitted, the branches above them gently rustling together with the wind. The sound eased his nerves, eased the dread threatening to bubble up and consume him. "If you were a lady, I would ask Father to let us wed."

(Y/N)'s lips curled up at that. "The Old Gods do not care if we're both men, Robb." He reminded him, that familiar grin working its way onto his face. Robb smiled again, setting his hand over (Y/N)'s and putting an end to his constant grass tearing. "Would you kill for me, Robb?"

"To protect you, yes," Robb answered immediately, no poundering needed. He'd kill to protect any of his loved ones. His parents, Jon, Theon, Sansa, little Arya and Bran. His father spilled blood for his late sister, Lyanna, during the rebellion and Robb doubted his father wouldn't do it all over again for her. "Would you?"

"If you asked." Then, (Y/N) leaned forward and clumsily mushed their lips together, sending a jolt down Robb's spine and a heat throughout his face. He'd kissed a young lady once or twice in secret and out of curiosity but despite his brief experience, he moved nervously and just as clumsily. 

Things rapidly changed from then on, behind closed doors at least. To the servants and residents of Winterfell, the two remained the same close friends as always, but away from prying eyes and curious ears, they were inseparable lovers. Robb's lingering stares grew and any ladies his mother asked him about were brushed away for one excuse or another. The sneaking around, the subtle touches, and innocent gestures, it was all exciting for them but Robb grew to prefer how hungry (Y/N) always seemed for him. It felt good to be wanted, felt good when he whispered loving confessions and laughed at (Y/N)'s eye rolls and flustered smiles. 

Until, as quickly as their relationship began, they were just as quickly swept away from each other. 

Not long after (Y/N) sixteenth name day, news arrived at Winterfell of Domeric Bolton's death. An illness in the stomach, the first letter from Maester Uthor read, but the letter from Roose informed him of a new family member who'd potentially caused the death of his brother: a half-brother by the name of Ramsay Snow—a bastard of the North. With Domeric dead, the title of heir fell on (Y/N)'s shoulders and took him away from Winterfell and back to the Dreadfort. Jon and Theon eased with his absence but Robb's heart broke into pieces. As a secondborn, (Y/N) could do as he pleased and remain by Robb's side forever if he wished, but as an heir?

As much as his absence pained him, Robb ensured to write (Y/N) many letters, most with secret messages only the two of them could understand. He detailed any events that'd gone on, small or big, silly or tragic. He wrote to him about the pups found by Jon and the one he'd claimed, about the royal visit at Winterfell and his father's new position as Hand, Jon joining the Night's Watch, the saddening news of his sister's wolf being killed. The letters stopped when Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell called the bannermen to war. 

Robb focused on the war, on avenging his father and bringing his beloved sisters home before they could be harmed by the Lannisters. The Bolton's joined the effort, of course, but Robb hardly saw (Y/N) during the start. They both had their duties, their own men to command, and many more things to worry about. But, the reunion had Robb nearly collapsing. 

He'd seen him, caught a brief glance during a battle with Lannister's army. It'd been enough to make him fight even harder, and they'd won in the end, returning back to camp to treat their wounded and count the dead. Robb had been swept away, his new title as King of the North forcing even more responsibilities onto his lap, but he managed to keep his racing mind focused enough to manage the tasks at hand, nearly forgetting about the glimpse until that night. 

Dragging the wet rag over his sword, Robb thought about his father. He thought about all the things Ned would say to him, the advice he'd give to him. His father knew of battles and rebellions, he knew of war. Robb only knew what he learned as the war progressed. Sure, there were many older men who'd fought alongside his father, who still had the taste of war in their mouths, but none would compare to the knowledge of Eddard Stark. He sighed quietly, gazing over his reflection and failing to hear the person entering his tent. 

"King of the North, aye? Has a pretty ring to it." He tensed immediately, first due to surprise and then because of that familiar voice. His head whirled around, eyes wide and heart pleading. (Y/N) grinned at him, splatters of blood still covering his skin and clothes from a battle the Boltons and few others had ridden out to, but it suited him perfectly. The sword fell with a loud clatter and Robb darted up from his seat, unable to restrain himself from flying into (Y/N)'s embrace. "Missed me, hm?" He laughed.

"Of course, I missed you, you bastard." Robb exhaled, leaning back to grasp the sides of his face, disregarding the blood that smeared onto his palms before he crashed their lips together. An almost animalistic growl-like noise emitted from (Y/N) throat and he kissed him back more roughly, as were most things with (Y/N). The Bolton backed him up until Robb fell back onto the bed, briefly knocking the air out of him. (Y/N) hovered above him, eyes glinting with a familiar look that sent heat rushing to his stomach.

"Sorry 'bout Lord Eddard, Robb." He murmured, dipping down to brush his lips over Robb's cheek and down to his throat where he dug his teeth lightly into him. 

"I heard of your half-brother, (Y/N)." Robb sighed again, the familiarity of it all making him lightheaded. His beloved had always been all tongue and teeth. (Y/N) snorted softly into his throat, a short chuckle leaving him at the mention of Ramsay's demise. He'd died in his sleep, or so Lord Bolton had said. 

"Never liked him, anyway." (Y/N) told him, rising back up to press their lips tightly together, teeth digging into Robb's bottom lip and tugging lightly. "I have news, Robb."

"Can it wait?" Robb knew the answer but he hoped pulling (Y/N) closer would change his mind. (Y/N) chuckled again and moved his hips, a lazy smirk spreading across his face when Robb cursed softly under his breath and reached down to fumble with their pants. 

"No, My King."

"Gods, you're the worst."

A sadistic little bastard but Robb loved him anyway. (Y/N)'s amusement faded away and he inhaled heavily, planting his hands on the sides of Robb's head and staring down at him. The seriousness made Robb straighten up, despite their rather compromising position, and he nodded for (Y/N) to continue. "My father plans on betraying you, Robb. Your rejection of Walder Frey's girls gave way for Father. He plans on marrying one of his daughters for an alliance. He wants to kill you." Robb's blood ran icy cold. War always had its fair share of traitors and cowardly, slimy men.

"Are you certain?" Robb sat up in the bed, forcing (Y/N) to lean back and stand again. A traitor in their midst and Walder Frey's ego. Two problems Robb hardly had time to deal with. (Y/N) reached out, fingers dipping under Robb's chin and tilting his head up.

"Give me your command and I'll bring his head to you by early morrow." 

[intoxicated-chan]

Be With Me

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Robb Stark x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ When Robb over hears of your potential marriage, he cannot stand the idea of loosing you to some random lord.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Be with Me” by Ramin Djawadi. It was heavily inspired by the cave scene with Jon and Yigrette. P.S… IM BACK!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, sexual content, swearing, injuries, mentions of death, oral (male receiving), discussion of marriage…

(I’m saying it again! This was heavily inspired by the cave scene that involved Jon and Yigrette!!)

You walk out of the medic tent with a limp, It’s more than obvious that you were injured, and you feel the stares from other soldiers as your eyes are narrowed.

Robb caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to make you turn around, “What was that?” Robb immediately said, “You thought it best to throw yourself into a fight?”

“A sword was coming from behind, you were too bothered to even notice.” You shake his hand off your shoulder and continue walking.

Robb grumbles a couple of words before speeding up to catch you, “I saved your life.” He piped up.

“No, I did.” You corrected him, you kept your eyes forward as you walked to your tent, “If I didn’t throw myself into the battle… You know I’d die for you.”

It makes Robb scoff rather loudly, ignoring your last words, “Let’s say you saved me. What about the other time or the other one?” Robb lifts an eyebrow, “You still owe me two more.”

“I owe you quite a lot, my lord.” You tell him, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check the horses.”

He grabs your cloak tightly and pulls you back, nearly making you fall to the ground. You look up at him confused and angry.

He suddenly snatches your sword out of your scabbard, “I’ll take your sword as payment.” He then scurries away, you can hear him laughing.

“W-What?” You stand shocked for a moment before realizing what is happening, “Robb! Come back here, dammit!” You shout, chasing after him, “Robb fucking Stark! Give me my sword!”

You run after him, tumbling on a few rocks but don’t fall… Somehow. As much as you’re a fighter, Robb was a runner.

He ran so easily and didn’t take a second to look back and stop to give you some kind of better start.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to steal it back!” He runs from the camp and into a random cave. A random cave to you. You didn’t know the North like he did.

The cave is heated by a natural hot spring, which forms a waterfall and a pool. The rocks glistening from the humidity from the water and the light shining through.

Robb sets his sword against the rocks and begins to undo his armor. He starts with his gloves, crumbling them up and tossing them besides the sword.

Your peer your head into the cave, you rush into the cave when hear him, “Seven fucking hells, Robb-!” You loudly shout, but stop in your tracks.

“I heard from my mother that you were supposed to marry some random Lord.” He spoke with a hint of venom in his voice, he pulls off his brown leather boots, “Which means you’re a maiden.”

You choke on your words as you feel your face become warm at his bluntness.

He unties and unbuttons his armor, setting it down carefully, “I always wanted to beat the lord dead, just imagining you in his grasp made me feel so angry.”

Robb turns his back to your as his arms cross and grab the hem of his dirty shirt, he’s swift and impatient, tearing free from the constraints of fighting and riding.

His hands come to the strings of his breeches, “I wanted to be the one to marry you… To kiss you…” Until his breeches drop to the ground. He steps out of them, “To love you…”

Robb turns back to you, he is completely bare in front of you. You could see light bruises and scrapes on his body but little scars. They were faded but still there, it added to his muscular body. He was so beautiful… So perfect… So flawless…

Your eyes flicker around the cave and your eyes only set sights on him once. They move to the ground and you hear his soft steps against the wet stone.

He slowly closes the space in between you both until his face his near yours.

You feel Robb’s breath, one of his hands comes to your cheeks and cups it. But when he leans into you for a kiss, you pull back.

You swallow thickly and turn your head, “We shouldn’t, Robb.” You mumble under your breath, “We can’t be doing this.”

“Then look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me that you don’t want to go any further.” He says, and he slowly turns his head to eventually look at him, “Go on, tell me.”

You knew what was waiting for you back at home, you knew that the second you stepped foot back into your home, your life would be over, even more if your parents found out.

“Do you want to marry that lord?” Robb whispers in your ear, “Do you want a marry a man with selfish desires?” You could hear the pain in his voice, “Because my heart would not stand the idea of it… My heart is yours, it has been from the start, ever since your mother met mine, ever since you watched me train that day. Do you feel as I do?”

“I do.” You shakily answer him. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close and then you feel his lips on yours.

As your eyes shut and kiss him, you can feel yourself crying. You don’t know but he sees it, he does his best to keep you distracted and focused on him.

But you seem to have other ideas…

Once you manage to calm down and enjoy the kiss for a few more minutes, taking a couple of seconds to catch your breath before returning… Your hands move down his body and you slowly begin to kneel, planting kisses down his chest.

Robb chuckles, “Come back up, I wanna-” A sudden moan leaves his mouth when he feels your mouth wrap around his hard cock.

He throws his head back and allows himself to moan loudly. He was confined in the cave, just with you and no one else to see or hear. He closes his eyes and his hand comes to your head to move faster.

“F-Fuck!” His voice cracks as he curses, “H-How are you so-” He grunts and hisses, watching you close as you get him off.

Moments later, Robb is lying on the warm stone ground with you by his side… His fingers graze over your skin as he listens to the water pouring, feeling the warmth coming from the hot spring beside them.

Robb looks down at you with a grin, “How did you know to do that?” He questions you with an eyebrow raised.

You shrug, “I didn't learn it from anyone, I just wanted to. You looked like you enjoyed it.” You drag your nails over his chest.

“Surely there must’ve been a man you practice with.” Robb sits up, he’s genuinely curious but still playful, “Was it Theon? Or Jon?”

You swat at his leg and he snickers in response, “I swear, Robb. There wasn’t any other man.”

“So you are a maiden or were.” Robb stands and grabs your hand to help you up, “Join me, would you?” You didn’t need to say anything, he could see the answer in your eyes.

He leads you into the hot spring, feeling the warm water make contact with your skin. You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest.

“They may be looking for us.” You tell him, unsure what to do now as you are held in his arms.

“I know.” Robb huffs as he rubs your back, “But let’s stay for a little longer…. I don’t wish to leave.” He holds you even tighter and places a kiss on the top of your head, “I do not wish to lose you once this is all over.”

“I… I’m sure I can convince my parents somehow. My mother could easily be swayed, but my father-”

“I’ll deal with him.” Robb interrupts you, “I’ll talk to my mother about it. There’s no way I cannot lose you to that man.”

Robb then moves to cup your face, swiping his thumb over his cheek, “Let’s not leave for a little longer.” He pulls you into another kiss, adjusting you comfortably on his lap.

You shudder and shiver, feeling his cock enter once more, “Don’t let me go.” You say to him, your hands hold grab his shoulders, keeping yourself up.

Once he was sheathed inside of you, Robb finally answers, “There’s no way I’ll let you go. Even if they try to pry my dead body off you, I’ll never let you go.”

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Sixteen - The first move has been made, and the Stark boys take what is theirs. Ch 17

My darling Lord Robb,

First, I must thank you for my gifts, they are quite lovely and as you requested, I wore them on my nameday this night past. Many paid me compliments, even Tommen which I must admit was quite humorous. Oh, my love, I long for the day when we are united, I grow tired of waiting. I know it is harsh, but today I was forced to spend three hours listening to Tommen describe his blossoming sword skills. I know he is a child, but the desire within me to tell him that he is nothing compared to my true husband, the Young Wolf, was quite strong.

Y/N reminds me that I must be patient, but I think that is hypocritical considering she has been in such a foul mood since Jon has decided he must act proper as to not get them in trouble. She believes I do not know of their affections, of their dalliance, which I find both insulting and amusing. Only a blind man would be unable to see what is between them, and even a blind man would be able to hear in their voices the affections they have for one another, even now as Jon pretends he is nothing more than a guard.

I am hoping they shall resolve this little spat before you come to save me from this lion’s den. I would like there to be no conflicts within our family, so rest assured I will do all I can to assist either y/n or Jon so that our ascension to power is a peaceful one—at least within our own houses. There will be nothing to distract us upon meeting.

I anxiously await your next letter and the day when we may finally cease writing and speak face to face.

-          Yours in earnest, Margaery

Robb presses his lips to her signature before folding the letter and slipping it into his pocket, earning a snort from Theon.

“Will you be this unbearable when you finally get your hands on the girl, or can I expect a reprieve from these disgusting displays of undying affection?” Theon asks, pressing his hand to his forehead pantomiming a swooning figure.

It looks ridiculous as Theon is fully cloaked, his armor hidden by the black fabric, his voice low as they wait for the signal.

They had been lying in wait ever since word had gotten out that the royal family was soon to pass by on their return trip to King’s Landing. The snail’s pace they had taken down to Riverrun to meet with Stannis then here to Highgarden had nearly driven him mad with boredom, but they could not risk alerting the Lannisters further than they already had. Now a mere week after Margaery’s nameday they have set the trap along the Roseroad.

Robb can hardly contain his excitement, soon he will be able to see her, speak with her, take her hands in his own. She will be angry, yes, that she will no longer be queen, that he had deceived her, but she would be queen of his heart. When he thought about such a line, the back of his head still stung from where Sansa had smacked him for it. It will be no replacement for Queen of the Seven Kingdoms , she said, but Robb hoped Margaery would forgive his deception.

It was not even truly a deception born of his own mind; it had been her grandmother's. The North did not want the Iron Throne, would not fight to put one of their own upon it, and his father was far too honorable a man to go against Stannis. There was no other suitable option. Stannis himself was married, had only a daughter, Margaery could not climb any higher, and she would not be safe if she remained married. Not with the truth of Tommen’s birth spreading farther and farther each day.

“You want me to scare her a bit, make you seem more the hero? Might ease her anger.” Theon offers an easy smile spreading across his face.

“Is that what you did to win over my sister?” Robb drawls, scanning the dimly lit road, they should hear the wheelhouses any moment now.

Theon chuckles quietly. “It was I who carried her through the streets of King’s Landing, who kept her safe from the ruffians and murders among the crowd that day.”

“Funny, Sansa said you held onto her sleeve and my father’s tunic as you ran, that you swore you would never visit a brothel again if you survived to the edge of the city.”

Theon scoffs but shifts in his crouched stance. “I have not visited a brothel since then, this is true, but I did not hold onto your father.”

“Just Sansa then?”

“Fuck you Stark.” Theon snarls, but there’s no bite to his words, only the playful ribbing that Robb has grown accustomed to since they were children.

“Will you two shut up?” Dacey Mormont hisses, her eyes like will o’wisps shining in the dark.

Then he feels it, the slight tremor in the ground, Grey Wind's ears perking up. The rush of adrenaline as the carts and wheelhouses begin to appear flanked by guards, guards who are either on their side or far too tired to expect an ambush on a road as well guarded as the Roseroad.

Robb counts the wheelhouses and carts as they pass, he will know hers on sight, Lady Olenna Tyrell had sent him a letter describing it down to the spokes on its wheels. She would not have any other man kidnap her granddaughter. Finally, finally, he spots it, gold trimmed, a rose embossed on each door, the curtains, a red crushed velvet pulled closed, and a freshly repaired third spoke on the second wheel.

Glass shatters up ahead, flames leaping into the air, horses rearing up, and it is time.

Jon guides his horse away from your wheelhouse, towards Robb and Theon. This has been the plan, it has always been the plan, though he had not known it until his father appeared.

“Brother.” Robb says, leaning forward to clasp Jon in a one-arm hug. He is smiling, joyful as if the sky was not filled with smoke, and the road alight with flames, as if the sounds of battle did not rage around them.

“I thought you were told?” Jon asks, confusion adding to the heavy stone of guilt in his stomach.

“I was, nothing has changed, we were raised together, you are my brother as Theon is.” Robb shrugs, nodding towards the Ironborn who had gone to fetch you and Margaery.

Jon squeezes his brother tightly. “Thank you.”

Robb pulls back with a smile. “Do not thank me, not until the anger of our wives dies down.”

Wives. Robb has no fear, he calls Margaery his wife, caring not that she is married to another, but Jon does not share that courage. He cannot shake off the lingering aches of being labeled a bastard all his life so easily. There is still fear someone better will steal you away, that you will resent him for the stigma that followed him for so long.

“Fucking hells.” Theon curses loudly, stumbling back as you and Margaery bust out of the wheelhouse, pushing past him, a blade clutched in Margaery’s hand.

“What a woman.” Robb whistles lowly, kicking his horse into a gallop after you both.

Jon follows, tugging the hood of his cloak further down.

Robb sweeps Maragery from her feet, but your hand is still in hers, and you cry out her name, as she cries out yours. Raw fear and desperation are clear in your eyes, and you dig your heels into the ground, pulling Margaery from Robb’s grasp, the two of you tumbling to the dirt.

You quickly help her up, just in time for Robb to round his horse and ride towards you both. Jon grabs you as he passes by, his arm an iron band around your waist keeping you locked against his chest.

You struggle against him, screaming when Robb sweeps Margaery onto his horse. “The Queen, save the Queen!”

Your cries draw the attention of some Lannister guards who are fighting against men Jon remembers from Winterfell, arrows fly and take advantage of their distraction, the Lannister men crumbling to the ground.

You scream again, terrified, and it guts him to realize you are screaming his name, begging him to save you.

Why has he not spoken? Why has he let you believe he was a stranger? It is the adrenaline, the rush of battle that has paralyzed his tongue, dried out his mouth and he finally forces it to work, unsticking it from the roof of his mouth. “Y/N, y/n, it is me, my starlight, you are safe.”

You twist in his hold, terrified eyes meeting his. “Thank the gods, Jon, we must turn back, we must rescue Margaery.”

“She is well, all is well, I promise.” Jon says, kicking his horse into a gallop.

Robb cannot say if he is upset or overjoyed at Margaery’s reaction to the news. It had been a few hours now, the moonlit fading, the sun soon to rise. First, she was frightened, then apologetic when she saw the cut she had given Theon with her dagger, then she was smiling, and it is a smile he would gladly give his life for. But now, now she is angry, her words calm, her voice even, and soft, but he can see it in her eyes.

“You deceived me, My Lord, you said I would be queen.” She says, fixing him with a look that he knows he will see much more of in their shared years to come. “Now you tell me Stannis’ dour wife will sit in my place instead. That you have organized a kidnapping to lure the remaining Lannisters here, that way Stannis and your father will have no trouble taking King’s Landing.”

“My Lady, it was your grandmother’s idea, Stannis would not hesitate to lock you away or marry you off to an old, fat bannerman of his if you had attempted to keep your position as queen. He might have even ordered you killed if an agreement had not struck for your safety.” He explains, taking her hands in his and pressing them to his lips, they are as soft as he imagined.

Margaery cannot hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips, not from him, even though her eyes still flash dangerously. “So, you thought to make that choice for me? What if I wished to marry an old, fat lord?”

He chuckles, and presses her hand to his chest, allowing her to feel not only his steady heartbeat but the hardened muscle. Y/N had written to him of Margaery’s likes and dislikes, what caught her eye, what displeased her. “If you truly want that, I am sure there is a Frey somewhere you could marry.”

He slides her hand down slowly, taking a step closer, his voice low. “But I have waited a very long time to finally set my eyes upon you, to feel your hand in mine, and if I am to send you to a Frey, at least allow me the honor of hearing my name fall from your lips.”

Her eyes flicker to his, then to his lips, then back again, a smirk curling on her own as her lashes flutter. “Like this, Robb? ”

She says his name so sweetly he nearly groans, but he stands firm, “not quite.”

Margaery pouts up at him, then tangles her fingers in the laces of his tunic and pulls him forward, going up on her toes, her lips parted so invitingly. “Do not be mean to me, Robb, I am to be your wife.”

Old gods take him, he is not Jon, he does not possess the strength his cousin does. He cups her cheek and kisses her, crushing her to him, walking her backwards until she falls onto his bed, him hovering above her, refusing to relinquish her lips.

Margaery sighs beneath him, carding her fingers through his hair. “Was that better?”

“Much better.” He laughs breathily, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips.

“I am queen Robb; I wish to still be queen.” She says softly, looking up at him with those doe eyes, she is so beautiful, a goddess of spring.

Robb caresses her cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “I wished to keep you as queen, but it would not be safe. I offer you myself instead, and the whole of the North, I shall remake it to your desires.”

She ponders his words, and for a moment cold fear strikes through him.

“I guess that will be enough. I shall draw up plans quickly, and present them to you for your input, you know the capabilities of your people far better than I do.” She says, giving him that radiant smile, her hair splayed out, her lips kiss swollen, her eyes lowered demurely.

“Do not look at me like that, I know you are much too spirited to play such a meek part.” He says, flipping them over and running his hand through her hair, the silky tresses falling through his fingers like water.

Margaery plants her hands on his chest, smiling coyly. “You do not wish me to play your good little wife?”

He chuckles. “You may pretend with all others, but not with me. I have seen you Margaery, the core of you, we have spent too long writing each other for me not to know who you truly are.” He sits up, brushing the hair from her neck, his fingers trailing down the pure, unblemished skin. “And I quite like you without the mask, will you allow me to see more?”

Her breath catches in her throat, and he takes that as a yes.

Jon sees you bite your lip and glance at him, the sounds from within Robb and Margaery’s tent are soft, but not soft enough to spare you both the embarrassment. “Do you think they know we are here?”

He knows his ears are bright red, he can feel them burning, and he shakes his head. “I doubt it, Robb is bold, but…not that bold.”

“Perhaps we should come back at a later time?” You suggest shuffling your feet in the dirt.

The sounds grow louder, and Jon takes your arm, walking briskly away. “I think that would be best.”

You both wait until you are far enough from the tent and dissolve into peals of laughter, doubling over.

“I cannot believe—oh I must tease her for that later.” You get out through your laughter, the moonlight giving you an ethereal glow.

Jon wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. “I knew he was eager to meet her, but I thought his honor would hold till her marriage was annulled, at the very least.”

You look at him, laughter dying down, a smile on your beautiful face. “I guess I cannot blame them, I do not know what I would do if we were separated for such a long time.”

Jon reaches for your hand, caressing the soft skin, admiring the silver ring gracing your hand. His father had brought it from Starfell, it was his mother’s, a starburst amethyst that shined when the light hit it. “I do not think I would bed you where anyone could hear, even if we had spent years apart.”

You give him a mischievous smile, taking a step closer, your free hand on his chest, your lips mere inches from his. “Even if I asked?”

He presses your hand in his to his lips instead of responding, and you giggle.

“Let us pray we shall never be parted then.” You say, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his in a quick kiss.

His cheeks burn, and he ducks his head. “Y/N, someone could see.”

“We are to be married remember, and we are among your cousin’s men, I am sure they will not begrudge us one small kiss.” You tease, ghosting your lips over his as you speak, your fingers sliding between the laces of his tunic.

“You are a temptress, a vile, vile temptress.” Jon groans softly, his eyes fluttering shut as you begin to draw circles on his chest with your nails. He bridges the gap between you two, even the scent of smoke that lingers on your clothing can smother the smell of your jasmine perfume. He nearly groans again when you part your lips for him so readily, desperate to further intertwine yourself with him.

A familiar sharp cough breaks the two of you apart, and Jon swears beneath his breath. “Theon.”

“Jon.” Theon smirks.

“Lord Greyjoy.” You say, brushing the hair back from your face in an attempt to look put together.

“Lady Lannister.” Theon nods his head towards you, still smirking. “We have been called to gather. Tyrion Lannister has sent his response.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

[julessworldd]

Valentine’s Day with GOT/HOTD babes modern

A/N: A quick idea for you guys and my present for saying thank you for the support of my writing. It’s been amazing writing for a new fandom and getting new mots y’all are the best! So happy Valentine’s Day from me :) I love you guys 💓 @daenerysapologist @valeskafics

Warnings: grammar/spelling errors, implied smut, marriage proposals, romantic shit

Robb: Okay man is a simp all year round, but Valentine’s Day and your birthday he goes all out each year. Breakfast in bed with your favorite breakfast foods and drinks. Dinner at the restaurant you had your first date at. He’s a sentimental man, like his daddy. Buys you an outfit and takes you out on the town, a walk after dinner. Then takes you back home and you have a nice night in the backyard under blankets looking at the stars. You definitely know how much you are loved with Robb

Theon: A romantic but loves an excuse to buy you stuff without you telling him he’s wasting his money. Wakes you up by kissing you all over and whispering sweet words of love in your ear. Definitely messes with you the whole day, making out in bed, on the counter, where ever he can get you. Gets you a pretty necklace, a nice outfit, a pink lingerie set from Victoria’s Secret (reference to bels cam girl series 💀💖) a good ole fashioned wine and dine with Theon

Jon: Loves Valentine’s Day he gets to show you how much he loves you on that day and your birthday. Jon makes you breakfast in bed, makes the bed, draws you a bath with nice soaps, bath bombs, roses in the water, candles around the tube. Still gets nervous about asking you if he can join the tub. Of course you let him, he lets you lay your back on his chest. Washes your hair and body while kissing you and laughing enjoying the time with you. Would be a guy to propose on that day. I don’t think he would make it a restaurant proposal, more of a scenic view type. Where you two go on walks and relax in nature, he had Sansa and Arya make it all cute with candles, fair lights and pictures.

Jaime: Jaime loves spoiling you no matter what day it is, but is like Robb two days out of the year he goes all out. Wakes you up being under the covers messing with you. Afterwards, he carries you to the kitchen for a breakfast. Tells you to get ready because he’s taking you out for the whole day. Takes you to your favorite places, a little shopping, a cute lunch date at your favorite restaurant, flowers. Then dinner he takes you to a fancy restaurant, gifts you a necklace that has his name. Later on you notice the wait staff is watching you guys. Soon as you ask him what’s going on, you seen him on one knee and a velvet box in hand. He takes you to the place he first said he loved you and tells you how much you mean to him and how he still loves you.

Aegon: Aegon is definitely someone that shows his money off even to you. You love him for him not his family’s money, but that’s his love language. A huge shopping spree, a fancy lunch and dinner, sends you money to get your nails done but request you to get something he wants for the special day.

Aemond: A secret hopeless romantic for his partner all year but valentines is one day he shows it off. Him and Jaime would do the same thing, take you shopping, a nice lunch just the whole day is about you and just you. Aemond would hand write you a poem and would mean every word. Definitely would think about proposing to you that night but wants it to be the perfect moment.

Cregan: My boy is a simp like Robb! Plans this day out after your birthday so it’s a ways a bit from that he plans it out big. Takes you somewhere nice and warm like Hawaii, Costa Rica, Bahamas the week before. A romantic getaway for you two, would definitely propose on the beach at sunset. A nice dinner that’s outside a private beach. tells you how much he loves you and wants to be with you forever. Cregan and Gomez Addams give the same vibes for their partners. Starks are simps in my book

[2braincellslz]

Who's the best character in Game of Thrones and why is it Theon and Robb?

[cdragons]

Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

Chapter 2: You are my Best Friend, the Family I Chose, the Home I Found

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: The Reader/OC will be mentioned but not written in this chapter, but she will make an appearance in the next one. I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but please comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! Also the OC's name and her pet's name are not in Mandarin but in Romanization because the characters in this chapter are thinking in English.

Also many thanks and love to @valeskafics as my beta! Check out her work if you don't follow her already, she's amazing!

Warnings: sexual content, sexual abuse, mentions of SA and r*pe but no descriptions, violence and violent themes, depression, suicidal actions, mentions of PTSD & survivor's guilt, offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes.

Previously in “Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered”:

“A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister.”

Theon’s POV:

Theon Greyjoy was somewhat of an enigma to most people, and to himself if he dared to be honest. He was known as Robb Stark’s best friend and brother, but Gods Old and New help him if he forgot that he was young Lord’s, no sorry, the young King’s inferior. He was the rakish and obnoxious ward graciously taken in by the honorable Eddard Stark, late Lord of Winterfell and House Stark, Warden of the North. But the term “ward” doesn’t hide the fact that he was their captive, their hostage. A hostage who at the age of ten, was robbed from his family, his culture, his home, after witnessing hundreds of Iron Island sailors and civilians being completely annihilated, just to be plopped down in the middle of a frozen mainland where no one likes him. Ned Stark may never have beaten him, but that didn’t mean the fact that he could with full jurisdiction send Theon to the gallows with a single word, and no one would bat an eye. He was supposed to an Ironborn, except he wasn’t, not since he lived amongst mainlanders for the past decade. He wasn’t a Northerner and couldn’t be a Stark, and he certainly wasn’t an Ironborn and he despised being a Greyjoy. He wished he wasn’t one the moment he stepped foot on the mainland, since he was brought to Winterfell, since he felt the gaze Lady Catelyn Stark’s cold and righteous eyes. But by the Drowned Man, he never hated his family name so much until he knew you.

Oh gods, you. He couldn’t help the sheer pride and love in his smile thinking about you, even in his sorry state. Because despite how his body still healing from the wounds brought by the ambushed arrows, the pure elation and shock from you storming the shit-stained Frey keep with five-thousand men (if he wasn’t so fucking plastered, he would’ve cried) and saving Robb and most of their asses, with minimal losses of only 157 men 158 if you include Talisa. You had even managed to subdue both Roose Bolton and Walder Frey before dragging their asses to the prison cells, along with the rest of their traitorous kin. However, there wasn’t time to celebrate their (really your) victory as you immediately put everyone to work. For someone who worked in the shadows, you looked so natural in organizing the camp to sections reserved for healing those who survived, and preparing the burials for those whose lives were lost. After that, you rushed every lord whose mind was just lucid enough in the largest empty tent. You insisted that finding whoever assisted the Frey’s in this ordeal, as Walder Frey may have been a vile greedy cunt, he wasn’t a tactical mastermind. And while Roose Bolton was an apathetic amoral sociopath, he could never possess the imagination for something so grand scale. After countless sleepless hours, the pieces were all put together, and ice that froze every lord’s blood in learning that this was a premeditated trap engineered by one fucking Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. The chaos and fury that followed was a sight to be memorized and passed on for years to come, any lost morale before that moment came back by a thousandfold strong. The southern snakes had really done it now, even if the plan had worked, the North would only drawback until they could strike once more. If there was one thing about the North that would always remain true, it was the fact that the North and its men never forget, especially an act as sacrilegious as what they now call the “Red Wedding”.

Every lord was shouting and screaming out blame, whether it be the execution of Lord Karstark, the release of the Kingslayer, the broken oath to the Frey’s, and on and on did they go. They didn’t stop until Lord Umber blamed on Theon for his father’s invasion to the North (despite that 1) he didn’t even know about the bloody invasion, and 2) he never left the fucking camp), and the usually mild-tempered Daiyu leapt on the table and knocked the Greatjon Umber on his great ass in retaliation. The sight of you in command will never leave him, not even when he had forgotten his own name and was too feeble to wipe his own ass. Even in your most irritable state, you dared not publicly showcase your emotions. But everything from the cold fury in your eyes to the raw determination in your spine, was enough to freeze a dragon’s fire. By reminding everyone while nothing can change the past, this event only further proves how there is no limit to the Lannister’s teachery, and that it was imperative to secure the North’s independence from the Southern leeches. You then told them of how you learned of the plan through a deal with a stranger wearing a red tunic and grey cloak, and that if they managed to survive the treachery, they were to immediately send word to Dragonstone.

“Dragonstone,” shouted out Lord after Daiyu grew bored of him and was now contently purring against Theon’s legs as he stood by you, “why in the seven hells would we send word to Dragonstone? So that we can get pissed over by Stannis Baratheon? How do we know you didn’t just make up the deal so that we could bend the knee to Stannis, or perhaps you’ve been working for the Lannister’s with the Boltons and Frey’s? Well? Answer me you chink-”.

Theon drew out his sword the second before he could finish, “You take those words back and beg for my sister’s forgiveness right now before I cut your tongue out and feed it to my falcon, you rancid shit.” Theon could allow disrespect against him, he grown used to it after all; but he would be flayed, eaten by hounds, and broken to a shell of a man before he allowed anyone to utter a word of disrespect to you, let alone that word. Each of the bannerman’s eyes shifted between the men, as most knew better than insult the mysterious spy from the far orient in the presence of the young Kraken. If Theon was not with their king, he was by his sister’s side, arm over her shoulders and her head on his, more often in silence as words were never needed in order to take comfort in one another.

And the girl was no different in her devotion to her brother, as her protection over him was as ruthless as it was creative. More than once had there been instances of soldiers throughout the camp making claims ranging from mad visions in their sleep to horses stampeding them throughout the woods to those who spoke ill of the Stark’s ward. The bannerman would have demanded their king to call for her head hadn’t her punishments been more amusing than irritating. Not that it would have worked, if there was only one thing the two young men had in common, it was the devout protection they showered the stoic spy. Even when the young king broke his oath to the Frey’s to marry his pretty foreign healer, did he remain true in his defense if anything it only grew. Such was the case with his own direwolf, who although remains steadfast in guarding his currently comatose companion, adored the Yi Tish girl far more than the now late queen if they were honest, as he was often seen being petted and fed scraps by her and even playing with her shadowcat. However, they just reasoned it was due to being acquainted with one another since the pup’s arrival at Winterfell shows what they know.

You placed a hand on your brother’s wrist, stopping any further action on his part towards Lord Umber. Theon’s eyes immediately darted down to your hand, and then looked at you. To an outsider, the act would look no different than a scolding to a child; however, those who had watched the two grow together, like one Lady Catelyn Stark, recognized the interaction to be one of the many of silent conversations between the two of you. Her eyes darting down to her late husband’s ward’s wrist, eyeing the rather poorly made charm bracelet you had gifted him for his name day so many years ago. Being a ward to one of the seven great houses, Theon was gifted many precious things, from expertly made blades to fine cloaks; but that little…thing was the item he treasured more than life itself, that and his loyal falcon, Ari. A falcon abandoned by its mother, was found by Theon and was assisted in healing the poor creature by none other than you.

A moment passed, and another had gone by, followed by a few more before Theon reluctantly lowered his arm and sheathed his sword. You turned your gaze to Greatjon once more, hand still holding on your brother’s wrist, before speaking in a loud and clear manner, “I will graciously ignore you accusing that I would ever betray House Stark, even going so far to suggest that I would ever switch loyalties to a southern house I had never cared, but may I first ask you what is the purpose of the North’s campaign to the South?”

“Pah! Aye, I can tell you, to march down to King’s Landing and swing our steel at enough of their piss-haired inbred to free the North-,” Greatjon was interrupted by the slamming of your fist to the table.

“WRONG!” You exclaimed, “Our goal from the beginning, our true purpose was to free our Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters from King’s Landing, and upon his death, we swore to avenge him and rescue his children! Have you forgotten my lords, forgotten Ned Stark, late Lord of Winterfell, the man you swore fealty to when you bent the knee to his house? Now we stand, fighting in a war, leagues from our North, miles from King’s Landing, from his daughter who he loved and cherished so dearly that he confessed to crimes he did not commit in attempt to save her from the lion’s den? Does Ned Stark stand here, does his daughter Lady Sansa? In fighting for the North’s freedom, we had forgotten our first goal, our true purpose! To avenge the blood of House Stark, to fight and protect their children! And as a result, the Gods have punished us for forgetting that purpose to the state we see ourselves in now. We have lost our greatest bargaining chip, half our men in taking Lord Karstark’s head, and now with greater losses in numbers with the betrayal from both House Frey and House Bolton. We may have regained one wolf, but such a miracle cannot be claimed by us as it had been Ser Sandor who brought her home.” Your words brought the attention of Sandor Clegane, who was standing in a corner. He was observing the scene unraveling before, in both shock that you thanked him for his act, and cursing you for bringing any attention at him at all.

“And do not ignore that another young wolf still remains at the lions’ mercy. And if Sandor’s words of her treatment hold truth, then I fear that her livelihood is at more risk than ever when word reaches the Red Keep that Tywin Lannister’s plan had failed.” Your voice grew more somber and quieter as you finished your speech. It seemed as if time had stopped, shame overtook every lord’s and lady’s face at your words, and Lady Catelyn knelt on the ground, sobs overtaking her body. The relief and joy in being reunited with her Arya, was overshadowed by the realization that still had one daughter far from her arms. Greater grief struck her in learning that her sweet Sansa had been routinely beaten and ridiculed at court by Joffery’s orders.

Ever so carefully, you knelt beside her, and gently placed your hand on her shoulder before grasping her to stand while allowing her to take comfort in your strong but gentle grip. You quickly called for a squire to fetch some cool water before handing Lady Stark a simple but clean handkerchief to wipe her tears. Such an act of familiarity to a highborn from a lowly spy would never be tolerated in normal circumstances, but no one dared to point this out, fearing that their Lady would fall apart had it not been for your support. After what seemed to have been an eternity to pass, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island stepped forward.

“The girl is right.” Her voice left no room for argument, “In fighting for our freedom, we had forgotten our people, our past leader, and his own blood. We lost sight of our true goal, and in doing so we allowed ourselves to be vulnerable to our enemies. Right now, Stannis Baratheon is our best hope in retrieving Ned Stark’s daughter. And we need all of the hope we can get, be it in numbers or supplies.” The next words coming out the fierce Mother Bear of House Mormont shook everyone to their core, “I can sacrifice our independence, I can bend the knee to another Southerner, but I cannot call myself a northerner if I forget my oath in avenging the Quiet Wolf, along with Jory Cassel, and the rest of the northern men that died in that rotten keep.”

“But how can expect Stannis to hope true in his word, is he even aware such a deal took place?” Lord Rysell rose from his seat, his voice filled with trepidation. “After all, was it not Stannis who killed Renly, his own brother, his very own blood? How can we expect a Southerner, nay, a KINSLAYER to hold even a weight of honor after witnessing the mutiny we all had barely escaped with our lives? And what of the cost? What was traded for such information?”

“Stannis Baratheon along with Jon Arryn had been running King Robert’s kingdom throughout his entire reign. While Jon Arryn tried to reign in Robert, Stannis was the one who had actually proposed new laws in attempt to benefit the kingdom. This was a man who at age of 17, held his brother’s castle at Storm’s End and ate shoes and rats rather than surrendering to a hopelessly superior army from both land and sea. He, who ensured that his men, smallfolk, and his little brother were fed before him. And more importantly, Stannis has ships, ships that can lay siege to King’s Landing by targeting Blackwater Bay, should he want for an alliance.” Theon couldn’t keep the pride out of his eyes, here you stood, recounting the accomplishment of one man, stunning every lord by your extensive knowledge of military history in perfect clarity. Those hours spent in the Winterfell library and extensive lessons with Maester Luwin seemed to have paid off.

“As for the matter of honor, this war will not be won through honor, no this is war that will be done on the matter of duty.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you braced your body in continuing, “Ned Stark’s duty as Hand of the King was to the kingdom. In choosing his honor, he lost his head. Robb Stark chose love over duty, and it cost him the lives of his wife, his child, and nearly 3000 of our men. Our duty to the North was to avenge Ned Stark’s death and protect his children, and in that we have failed miserably. Whether Stannis Baratheon is honorable remains to be seen, but it was his devotion to his duty had made his men so loyal to him and his enemies call him a man ‘truly just.’ As for the matter of proof, I would hope that this message that bears his seal to provide some comfort.” You hand a creased letter to Catelyn Stark for confirmation. After vigilant investigation, she confirmed that it was indeed written in his hand and that seal bore House Baratheon’s sigil, along with the seal of Dragonstone.

“And I can assure you my lords that the price was more than fair,” your confidence was slowly diminishing as you chose your next words carefully, “all that was asked from the stranger was that I sail from Seagard to a locate an individual and escort them to somewhere Beyond the Wall, afterwards I would be told more details of my mission from there.”

“What comes after you get those details and finish escorting them?” Theon didn’t recognize his own voice. “Do they send you somewhere else, who’s this person, where are you going?” Seven hells, is that panic in his voice? “When do you come back?”

You looked towards your precious brother, eyes trying to convey a hidden message you don’t dare to speak aloud. You take a deep and shaky breath before clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your voice steady and clear, “I don’t.”

And just like that, chaos erupts once more.

Theon doesn’t realize he was asleep before being so rudely pulled out of his dream…memory?

“Well, memory it may have been, but a nightmare to relive it once more.” Theon thought as he tried to focus on his surroundings, before seeing the reason he was awoken in the first place. On his chest, stood a majestic falcon gazing into the eyes of his owner. Despite being a first-class hunter, one would think this bird of prey that feeds on both fish and birds alike by swooping at tremendous speed with little to no sound, was really a smaller parrot if others knew how spoiled Ari was for attention and treats. “Forget Robb, the real challenge will be in keeping this little fellow from going mad from losing his main benefactor,” thought Theon as he lovingly stroked a finger on Ari’s head, the falcon sweetly preening from attention from his beloved savior.

“THEON!” A familiar voice bellowed as the footsteps whom Theon was sure belonged to one auburn-curled king grew louder as they stride closer to his tent.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Knowing what will soon come, I only hope to find a barrel of ale to drown my sorrows in afterwards.” And with that being his final thought before rising from his cot and just finished dressing himself before his tent’s flap flew open, and in came the Young Wolf with a fury so terrible it would bring down the Wall.

Robb���s POV

After arriving at the camp, Robb immediately jumped down his horse and demanded a steward to take care of his steed before he marched forward with only one person in mind, Theon Greyjoy. His father’s ward, his best mate, his brother without blood and in-arms, and the brother to one particular Yi Tish girl that was sailing further and further from where she belonged. If there was one person who knew where she was going, it was Theon. He had to know, Li and Theon had a bond between them. A bond that Robb loathed to admit many times, as it was that bond that could not be easily shattered or poisoned as such with the bonds of mere companions or even lovers. For companions, some periods of time apart would often do the trick, but even on the most drawn-out operations his father sent you out on, time only proved to strengthen the bond as you would return with tales of the people you were sent out to watch, and even come back with small gifts as tokens of fond remembrance. Every single one of those gifts, no matter how often Theon would act as if he were given something burdensome, were treasured and placed inside a wooden box that he secretly commissioned one of keep’s craftsmen to create in order to store them. Even if you two were lovers, however painful that would be for him, it would be of great comfort to Robb knowing that it such affections would one day pass. No matter how great the flames of passion arose, they would usually die out, especially in one’s youth. In your case, hopefully in a way so spectacularly horrendous that it would kill any hope of rekindling those flames ever again. But no, instead you two stubbornly remained siblings, and your bond was that of great platonic love and adoration. It baffled Robb to no end as to why the two of you remained so insistently loyal to one another, but it was the same answer every time Robb brought out his frustrations.

“He is my brother,” you would say without fail. “He is the family I chose to love and cherish, and so I will choose him. I will choose him every time.” You would look directly at him, with your big brown almond-shaped eyes, so warm and frank, as if you were stating so completely plain and obvious to a tempering child.

“Can’t you choose me? I would choose you. I could be your family.” Robb exclaimed in great exasperation at your persistence. After all, why couldn’t he be your family? He who saw how well you played and calmed his younger siblings when he, his mother, his father, and even the septas were too busy; who would always help you whenever you stumbled upon a difficult word that you couldn’t spell or pronounce; who would show you the secrets of the Winterfell Keep that he would not even show to Jon or Theon; he who saw your secret smiles and hidden protection you bestowed upon the many strays and smallfolk children in the village town. By the Seven’s sake, he was to be the Lord of Winterfell and of the North after his father, who better than him to take care of you?

“No,” you stressed out, “No Robb, you couldn’t. You and I could never be each other’s family, not the way that he and I are, not in the way you want us to be.” You looked at him with your eyes, your big, brown, warm, cruel eyes; eyes that looked so genuinely apologetic that it almost made him forget his anger, almost. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Robb was sure that he sounded pathetic, but he needed to know, to understand, why he couldn’t be the one for you. Was it the differing status between you both, did his mother speak ill to you when he and his father were unable to witness it, or was it because you had feelings of love for someone else, someone not him? Oh gods, he could feel his young heart breaking at that final thought.

“Theon and I…”, you tried to find the words that could capture the meanings you didn’t know the words to, words that were not in any of the languages you had learned and spoken, “he and I are bonded. In a way that goes beyond words, beyond simply moments and memories. It is built on an understanding that only the two of us know of, something you have never and I pray that you never will understand, because it is a pain that very few our age knows about, and that is really all I can say of the matter.” With that being the final word, you turned and walked away, leaving the young heir more lost and aggravated than ever.

“Oh Li, my sweet, darling Li.” Robb thought as he admonished your words with tender childing. “How could you be so blind to your so-called brother’s selfish and arrogant ways? Do you not see how he would ruin you, how he would twist your naïve and tender heart with his cunning words and leering eyes?” After all, brother or not, Robb was not as stupid as many would like to him to be. Yes, he would admit that marrying Talisa was in poor taste, especially in letting her believe that she meant far greater to him than her original purpose. A purpose to strictly bring physical comfort and to destress after hard-fought battles, as well as to help him forget that he was to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters and to forget about you. While he had never meant in their affair to go so far, he will admit that he got carried away with her. He got lost in their conversations and banter, in her altruistic warmth and kindness, he allowed himself to give into the idea of championing love and how it would conquer any obstacle set before him. But most of all, he longed for the idea of sharing a love with someone new, someone who didn’t know him from his youth. He wanted to love someone who didn’t know of the many insecurities that plague his mind whenever he planned for his next battle. He pined at the idea of someone who didn’t see the vulnerable boy he hid away to project the undefeated wolf marching towards the lion’s den. He was desperate for the warmth and frankness that would be rewarded to him from a woman whose love was sweet and generous and easy.

Talisa had been all of that, and more, so much more. She was opposite to you in every way, physical and emotional. The only similarity that could be shared between the two of you would be that your hair was dark, but even in that there were too many differences. You had routinely cut your hair to your armpit, whereas Talisa’s hair flowed past her midback. And upon further inspection, one could see very things streaks of silver and grey as a result of stress, meanwhile there were no such signs in his late wife’s dark locks. Both of your faces were beautiful and similar in some features but your beauty differed in hers not only in the regions of birth, but in evidence of treatment. Both of your faces had a straight nose, downward turned lips, and almond-shaped eyes. But Talisa’s elegant and angular visage contained no markings or blemishes of any kind. There were no crow’s feet, or scars. Even after witnessing her most laborious treatments and amputations, did she contain an angelic maturity that would envy the wealthiest of highborn women. Everything about her… her willowy and pliant frame… unblemished reddish hue complexion…angelic lips…legs that stretched for miles and were connected by full hips…all of it in the form of one truly mythic beauty.  

Whereas you…if Talisa’s beauty could be compared to an angel that glowed compassion and wisdom, yours was that of a survivor that radiated the hardships from years of regimented training for an enduring body and great mental fortitude. Your shoulders and rib cage were broad, but your stomach was slim with a taut core. Your arms were a bit trim, but years in learning how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, along with varying combat made them toned and fine. Your calves were strong and thick and they stretched your trouser legs, and while many insisted you looked more man than woman, you relished in their power in action. Your waist was sinched in a way that showed off the fullness in your hips, and perfectly gave way to your marvelous ass that he stared at more times than he likes to admit, especially with Theon’s overly protective gaze following him no matter the time or place. But he had remained respectful in his gaze if you don’t count the number of times, he spied you while swimming in the springs with the sheer small clothes as your only barrier, or when he watched you bathe in your quarters in the secret compartments or whenever he stroked his cock with an unwavering gaze as you rubbed your clit calling out his name.

While Talisa’s skin bared no markings, there seemed not to be a single patch of skin on your outer framework that didn’t contain a fading mark or scar. Even your proportional facial features: with downward lips that usually remained stoic, and straight framed nose that rarely crinkled even when it was red in the harshest of winters, and eyes that seemed unemotional until one paid close attention in order to see the carefully guarded mirth and gentleness that brightly shone in your peace; were littered with marking brought by you whenever you spied a pimple and removed it, letting it bleed and fester before it healed and scarred. This aggravated his mother and sister Sansa to great lengths, especially Sansa as she would insist that you were spoiling your own beauty and that no man would ever want to marry a woman with such awful scars on her face. You would turn to her stating that you would likely never marry in the first place, nor did you want to leave. Marriage would mean leaving Winterfell, the Stark family, and your new friends, including her who gave you your first gift. This shocked and flustered Sansa, as that “first gift” was a poorly embroidered handkerchief she just wanted to throw away, but instead gave it to you. Not long after, Sansa gifted you a much prettier embroidered handkerchief, one that had little blue flowers sewn across the borders. She insisted that you throw out the first, but you told her that she made both, so both were too important. So, you bought a small wooden box from your meager savings, and tucked both away neatly and lovingly. She still chided you something fierce whenever she caught you picking and scratching your own face. But sometimes Robb would pass by Sansa’s chambers, and double back in shock seeing the two of you conversing (well, more akin to Sansa gossiping and fantasizing about the South while you gave monosyllabic responses) on her bed while she practiced braiding your hair.

This brought up the most glaring difference between you and Talisa, although neither of you were born in Westeros, let alone in the North. But Talisa would never, could never be a Northerner, not in the way he and his family were Northerners as they were Starks, not in the way you grew to be a Northerner. She would never be able to adapt to the bitter cold and snow, could never love the harsh and biting winds, take comfort in the fresh air and scent of smoke wood burning in a hearth the way you had when you were brought to Winterfell by his father. There was no doubt that she would be respected, admired even, but the North and its people would never take to her in the way they took to you. You, who after weeks of careful interrogation and healing, took off running in the Godswoods, climbing its trees, breathing in its holy air, sitting before the weirwood tree with no fear as if you knew it your whole life. While it took a good while for you to gain the castle’s staff trust, it hadn’t taken much time for the village folk to look after you, despite being a foreigner who barely spoke the language. Granted there was the occasional drunk and youthful miscreant who still called after you in offensive terms, but they were quickly taken care of by Theon (who was the third in the keep to take you under his wing, after his father and Maester Luwin).

In return for their kindness, you became somewhat of a silent guardian. You made sure that no wild animals harmed anyone, even those who lived outside the village and in the deep forests; ensured that no child was lost after dark, often returning with bitemarks and long bleeding scratches; and fought off cruel men to the women working in the brothels and the barmaids in the Smoking Log. You even went so far as to “educate” the men who crossed your ire with you... somewhat disturbed skillset from the streets of Qarth. These particular teachings brought you much favor with the town’s women, none more so than Ros (who just so happened to your brother’s favorite whore). So much so that she liked to refer to herself as your “best friend,” a sentiment you returned wholeheartedly, as she was one of the few who heard you laugh, not just a giggle, but a full-bellied laugh, and seen you genuinely smile more times than anyone (besides your brother of course and him). And animals, gods. Don’t even mention to Robb about the animals, he could go on and on about how you seemed determined to take in every stray that wondered around aimlessly, hoping for some scraps of food or a place with walls to keep out the cold. In the first year you were brought, Robb could name over a dozen separate occasions you brought in a stray to care for before being found out. His father had hoped that by letting you keep your beloved shadowcat, you would stop this habit. This caused the very opposite of his hopes to happen, as you had no intention to stop taking in every stray that looked you with sad eyes. You only made sure to hide them in more…discreet locations, mostly in Jon’s and Theon’s rooms, as they shared a fondness for a singular cute creature with sad eyes (you).

But even that was not the limit of your protection. You even provided help to the wives whose husbands abuse them in cruelties beyond imagination, to where these men’s cruelties extend to their own children. These circumstances were tricky to say the least, as there was little to be done as the wife and children belonged to her husband and father, as he was usually the main provider of the family. Very few women dared not indicate any signs of abuse to anyone, much less towards his lord father. Robb was in his father’s solar at the time, learning about his future duties when in you barged in, holding a thick stack of evidence and documentation of not only the alleged offenses, but also proof in showing that these women willingly came to you to bring forth justice, knowing that their Lord Eddard Stark could only do so much. Not only that, but you also found evidence of reports of similar offenses being thrown out, meaning that you took the time and energy to fish out the documents from every trash heap in order to properly present your case.

This is where your true talents laid, in your relentless empathy and your perseverance for change. You may hide your heart in guarded walls made of heavily forged iron, but that didn’t take away the fact that you cared, you cared so deeply. You would use the skills you tirelessly trained for the purpose to protect those who cannot demand protection from those in power and cannot afford to bring attention upon themselves. In presenting the evidence, you asked whether this would be enough to request a change in policy regarding the protection of women and children in not only Winterfell, but across the North. Your body in steeled posture, expecting refusal and rejection, froze in shock in hearing that he would immediately establish a new policy regarding the treatment of familial relations, and punishment in violating that policy would result in amputation or beheading. Immediately, you raced across his desk and hugged him so tightly that Ned Stark was sure you had been possessed by a strange benevolent goblin. Noticing your precarious position, you straightened yourself out and apologized profusely before thanking him and swiftly exiting his solar. When brought up to House Stark’s vassal houses, many protested, though none more so than Lord Roose Bolton, as rumors of him leeching and torturing his wife and smallfolk were legendary in infamy. He questioned why such Lord Stark felt it necessary for such a policy to be implemented, but Robb’s father remained firm in keeping your anonymity, knowing you would be targeted for serious punishment if the lords knew of your identity.

“Being a Lord is like being a father, except you have thousands of children and you worry about all of them. The farmers plowing the fields are yours to protect. The charwomen scrubbing the floors, yours to protect. The soldiers you order into battle.” He paused before continuing, “But it seems, I have forgotten what it means to be a father to many others. I have evidence, of hundreds, if not thousands of reports stating the mistreatment by a family head’s hands. Reports that were never brought to me by men I thought I could trust. As Warden of the North, it is my duty to care for these women and their children, but I have failed in my duty. That is why I have created this law, and any violations of this law will be brought to my attention by the official guards of each house’s town. However, any knowledge of these violations going unpunished will be informed to someone else, someone personally placed and hidden that not even your best spies will find. They will be my eyes and ears; they will be my messengers. Should you bring your own twisted sense of justice upon them, I will know, and as you all know, I’ve never been one to use a headsman to do my beheading.” With that being the final word of the matter, Robb’s father dismissed his men, and called for the ravens to carry out the new law across his land. Robb would never forget those words for as long as he lived.

True to his father’s words, reports of these violations were kept in the known, and the Northern houses were expected to carry out the law’s sentences. Wicked men who violently struck their wives and children without proper justification had their hands chopped off. Those who starved their families were thrown into the dungeons without food or comfort for varying periods of time. And vile rapists had public castrations, and were also faced with beheadings. The lords ceaselessly hired the best spies and sellswords to find Ned Stark’s eyes and ears, but nothing came out of it. Soon enough, crimes of not only this offense, but other unrelated offences started to cease. Time continued forward, and the number of reports continuously dwindled until women felt it safe to walk at night without the need of a dagger, children felt it safe to play with outside after dark, and those with wickedness in their hearts learned what it meant to act properly without needing intervention of a higher power.

Smallfolk across the North sung praises to Ned Stark, for his kind and noble heart, for his true sense of justice, for being a man with true honor and knew the meaning of a lord’s duty of his people. But the women and children of Winterfell knew the truth, and it was you they silently revered. After all, only you listened to their cries, to their pain and anguish. You who searched for proof and evidence until the amount grew so great that you knew it could no longer be ignored. Things were not perfect, no far from it, but they were better. They were so much better, and they had you to thank for that. You were their paragon of justice and truth, someone who pushed for action in their lord’s idleness. One young man came up to you in privacy, and cried his thanks. He revealed to you that he and his brother were raped by their mother since their father’s death, but he could not tell anyone the truth, he could not bear the shame. But thanks to you, that wretched cunt was beheaded, and he could finally take his siblings far down south, where they would hopefully find better work and start a better life. You were silent until you carefully asked the young man if you could have his permission to hug him. When he granted it, you carefully and slowly placed your arms around him before both of you were sobbing and wishing good fortune to one another.

“No,” Robb thought as he almost reached Theon’s tent, “Talisa would never be accepted as his queen, not when you had taken the hearts of Winterfell’s inhabitants.” And as much as he felt guilty for her death and how he wouldn’t truly love her, he knew that this was for the best in the long run. Talisa was intelligent, and kind; but the coming winter would be ruthless, and her warmth would be swept out long before spring would arrive. He did mourn for his child, but he knew that with you by his side, there would be plenty of opportunities to create new heirs, and soon enough Winterfell will be run amok by little wolf pups and laughter once more. “Even if you do not understand it now, you cannot hide your feelings from your mate, little dragon.” As furious as Robb still was by you running from him, he knew that sooner or later that the two of you would find each other once more, and in finding each other, you would rule by his side as his queen and the North would only prosper in your reign together. A reign that would come a lot sooner than later, if he knew where in the seven hells you were off to.

“THEON!” Robb shouted before he stormed into Theon’s tent, he watched with furious eyes at his oldest friend and greatest enemy when it comes to you as Ari off his shoulder and perched on top of Grey Wind’s head. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flared in barely veiled anger, as he vented out the words, “Where is she?”

“With all due respect, your grace,” Theon quipped out as he began to pour himself some water, inhaling it in a few gulps before continuing, “you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t have the faintest idea of who this ‘she’ would be?”

“Oh, so that’s how he wants to play this out,” Robb thought out as he took a deep breath. He should have known better than to expect Theon Greyjoy of all people to give a straightforward answer. He quickly sent Grey Wind out to guard the tent, and not anyone in before curtly replying, “Don’t act dull. You know exactly whom I am referring to.”

Theon sat at his desk before pretended to ponder with his chin in one hand, and elbow in another, before continuing, “No, no, I’m afraid not, your grace. ‘She’ could really be anyone, would ‘she’ happen to be your mother? No, no, no…how about Arya, or perhaps Sansa? No, Arya just got here, and Sansa’s still not here, no thanks to you…Oh! Might ‘she’ be your late wife? The one who you fucked, then married and got killed- “Robb grabbed his throat before he could continue on, fury finally getting the better of him, and slammed the back of Theon’s head on top of the desk.

“Don’t you start with me Greyjoy,” Robb could barely contain himself, but he knew he had to, if only to get the information of where you were heading. He swallowed his pride before loosening his grip, and spoke his next words through clenched teeth, “Where is Long Li going? Don’t even think of lying to me!”

Theon’s eyes softened at the mention of your name, before whispering out, “Are you demanding an answer as my king?” His eyes and voice hardened to prepare saying the next words without spitting at the man above him, “Or as my brother?”

“Aye, I am your brother, now and always, but right now, I come to demand you answer me,” Robb’s voice grew stronger as he stated his next words, “as the man who intends to take her as my future wife and mother of my children and future heirs.” As he finished speaking, Theon felt anger surge throughout his body, and he gripped Robb’s doublet with both hands and flipped him onto his back.

“What makes you think I know?” Theon venomously spat out with a bit of condescension, “And for that matter, what makes you think that I would ever tell you? The boy who threw duty for love, that’s what everyone’s calling you. And for good reason too. Robb Stark, King in the North, the Young Wolf that never lost a battle, almost got 3000 men killed for love, and did get his wife gutted for it.” Theon let out a mocking laugh Robb, who struggled to get out of his grip, only to remain pinned on the desk. “If it weren’t for Li, we’d all be dead, bodies thrown into the river, rotting at the bottom. And because of you, she’s gone, gone with some mad man who could do anything to her.” Theon could feel his throat constricting, but didn’t bother to restrain his worst fears. He wanted Robb to bleed out more than when Roose Bolton shoved an arrow to his chest, “She could be gutted, maimed, or raped by now, and it’d be all your fault.” Theon released his grip and quickly turned away as he wiped the tears running down his cheeks at the thought of you getting hurt, and him not being there to protect you. Recalling your tearful goodbye, filled with gripping hugs and sweet words, and refusal to acknowledge the fear of never seeing each other again. The thought of you, the only person he truly, completely, and unconditionally loved, gone forever killed him. He tried to not completely fall apart as he remembered the final look you gave him before urging your horse into a gallop to put as much distance between you and the camp on your way to Seagard.

“I begged her to not go. I told her that no duty was worth her, that she’s done enough for others and that she should just stay here, where she could be safe.” He let out a bitter laugh before persisting while pacing around his tent, “But she wouldn’t hear of it, said that she had to go, and worst of all, I couldn’t go with her. She said that she needed me here, to make sure that you had your head an’ wits still with you after you wake up. She told me, ‘Robb’s lost too much already, and you’re his best friend. He just lost the woman he loves and their child, he’s going to need you to keep him grounded more than ever now.’” He poured more water, and swung it back before continuing, “‘Keep you grounded’, yea’ fat load of grounding I did before, eh? No matter what me, your mother, or Li told you…you still married your pretty healer queen, because you thought you were entitled to more happiness than the rest of us. Some king you are, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Theon finally stopped before sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, sounding so tired and small that Robb wouldn’t have believe it was him if he weren’t right in front of him, “My sister is gone and might turn up dead and it’s all your fault, Robb Stark. And even if she’s alive, she can’t come back. You’re a shit king for making her doing this, for everything she did so that you’d and your family be safe.” Theon looked up, tears still streaming down his eyes, and stared directly at Robb as he scoffed out the next words, “She left feeling guilty, for so many things, all out of her control. First, for being too weak and injured to outfight the Tarth bitch; second, for not guarding those Lannister boys well enough, and the final part? The last’s the worst ten times over, because she thinks it’s her fault that Talisa and your child got murdered, that if she were just a little quicker and a little smarter and a little better, she’d get there earlier and both of them would make it out breathing. She almost went mad over it you know. I almost had to talk her out of throwing herself off the fucking Frey bridge, as if she hadn’t lost enough of her sanity already.” Both of them went silent after that, only until Robb walked over and sat by Theon and broke the tense silence.

“I didn’t love Talisa,” he rasped out, “I thought I did, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” He looked at his feet, shame overtaking him as he only just realizes what Theon had lost as a result of his selfishness. “I cared for her, I loved our child, but I didn’t love her. I couldn’t, not when I already love Li, not how I will always love Li.”

“I know,” Theon responded, “I know.” Because while he was still angry, he knew Robb was genuinely sorry, even if he was an entitled prick.

“So,” Robb looked over to ask his old friend, “what happens now?”

Theon took in a deep breath, eyes closed in careful thought before answering, “We get out of this tent, execute some Bolton’s and Frey’s, meet with the bannermen, and make the preparations to Maidenpool to meet with Stannis to bend the knee or some shit.” He then turned his head to look at Robb with his trademark smirk and quipped out, “But before that last part, we’re going to find the biggest barrel of ale we got, and then drain the whole damned thing.”

Robb barks out a quick laugh, and tries to grip himself together in saying, “Perfect, what comes after the ale and before Maidenpool?”

“After the ale, we fight some more, drink some more, and then probably piss ourselves in our sleep.” Theon lists off before the two young men erupt in laughter, both tired of being mad at their best friend. “And before you ask, we’re meeting Stannis at Maidenpool because we got no bloody ships, and it’s going to be you, me, Arya, and Blackfish.” He saw the confused look in Robb’s eyes before going on, “The note asked for me specifically, probably to call me out for treason in being a Greyjoy or something. You’re coming because you’re the King in the North, Arya because two Starks are better than one in this case and your mother is in no state to continue on, my guess is that the bannermen probably want to send her back to Winterfell. And Blackfish is going because he’s a Tully of Riverrun, but he’s not your fuckup Uncle Edmure Tully of Riverrun.”

Robb chuckled out, “Aye, at least he’s not Edmure. And it’d be good for my mother to return to Winterfell, she likely wants to see Bran and Rickon more than she wants to see Sansa.” Satisfied with everything out in the open, the two men got up and called for their animal companions who guarded the tent from onlookers as they had their squabble.

“Come on now,” Theon slapped his king’s back as Ari flew to his right shoulder, “let’s spill some traitor blood and finish this meeting quick. Ale waits for no one.” And Robb laughed and smiled, remembering how good it felt to be laughing with Theon like he had in Winterfell. When everything was alright, his father alive and well, his sisters bickering but together, his mother with all her children, him with Jon and Theon in the training yard teaching Bran and Rickon how to shoot. No war to fight, no battles to be won, and most importantly, you were still by his side.

Please like, reblog, or comment your opinions if you want to, but please remain respectful. If I missed any warnings, let me know.

[thealtoduck]

Forbidden Fruit

Theon Greyjoy x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Theon in his asshole era, anal sex, loss of virginity, doggy style, use of the word ”whore”, Theon referring to your ass as a ”cunt”, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, spit as lube, everyone kinda wants to fuck you too…

Summary: Theon has his eyes set on you and wants to be your first…

——

The sounds swords clanging against each other rang out over the courtyard of Winterfell as Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark practised their swordfighting. Both of them in full focus on the task of beating the others.

Theon was just about to land a winning strike when someone behind Robb distracted him, stealing his focus. A beautiful young man, Y/n Poole, the son of the steward of Winterfell. Theon was distracted just long enough for Robb to be able to knock him to the ground.

”Come on Theon, keep your eyes on your opponent” Robb said annoyed and turned to see what Theon had been looking at, his eyes landing on you. ”Y/n, the steward’s son?” Robb questioned his friend. ”I’ve heard one of the chefs claim he took his virginity but he was drunk so i think he might have lied” Robb gossiped as he continued looking at you.

”I wouldn’t mind fucking him myself” he then said to the annoyance of Theon. ”Oh please, is the little lord Robb Stark gonna fuck the steward’s son?” Theon mocked him. ”He needs someone to take his boy cunt like the little whore he is” Theon said looking hungrily towards you as you were talking to a couple of castle guards.

”And that’s going to be you?” Robb questioned sarcastically. But Theon wasn’t listening he was already planning.

——

That night during dinner…

Theon watched you as you sat next to Jon, chatting cheerfully. Theon needed to catch you alone. Luckily for him he’d get his shot soon… You were also sat next to Sansa Stark which put you in the crossfire between her and her sister Arya’s never ending war.

Arya loaded her spoon with a piece of meat pie and launched it towards Sansa… but she missed hitting your chest, dirtying your light grey tunic. ”Arya! Look what you did?!” Sansa scolded her younger sister. ”I’m so sorry about her” Sansa apologised frantically as she tried to wipe of your shirt with a cloth napkin.

”Don’t worry about it Lady Sansa, i’ll just go change” you said calmly, standing up from the table and walking off. Theon saw this was his chance to finally meet you alone.

He soon managed to sneak away from the the dining hall. He stopped by the kitchens and snagged two goblets and a pitcher of wine, then he made his way through Winterfell castle towards the small part occupied by Steward of Winterfell and his family.

He knocked on the door he knew belonged to you. ”One moment” came your voice from the inside. Then the door opened revealing you in a nightshirt and underwear, you quickly wrapped yourself in a thin blue robe to cover up more for you’re unexpected visitor.

”Theon” you said happily at sight of him. ”Sorry, i’m not more properly dressed i was just about to go to bed” you said tying your robe. ”Oh no worries” he said with a flirty smile, you were gonna be even less dressed once he was done with you.

”How can i help you?” you asked. ”Oh, i just wondered if you’d like to have quick drink with me” he said holding up the pitcher and the two goblets he brought. You looked unsure. ”If your not too tired of course” he quickly added.

”Of course, a drink wouldn’t hurt” you said and held open the door for him, letting him in to your bed chamber. Theon observed the room, it was smaller than his own. It had a small square window with a nice view. A little fire place where a fire was burning, heating up the cold castle room.

A square table with a set of two chairs and a clothing chest right next to it. And finally the bed, which was draped in soft blankets. Above it hung a banner for your House, House Poole. The room was textbook definition of what Theon would describe as cozy.

You sat down in one of the chairs by the table, as Theon put the goblets on the table, pouring wine in each and then putting the pitcher down. He sat down in the other chair, you both grabbed your goblets. ”Cheers” Theon said and you clinked your goblets together and drank.

The two of you talked for a while. Theon decided to start testing the waters. He moved his leg slightly making it rest against yours, your eyes drifted to his leg for half a second before you looked back to him but you didn’t move away.

Time passed as you told Theon a story, once you finished it became quiet through the chamber. ”You’re really pretty you know” Theon stated boldly filling the silence in the room. Before you had time to respond Theon started talking ”Some of the staff has been talking about it, how they want to fuck you. Even the lordling Robb Stark said so”.

”And i understand them, you are very pretty” he continued. You looked rather unsure what to answer. ”Tell me Y/n, have you ever been fucked before?” Theon asked shamelessly, leaning closer to you. ”I… no, i have not” you told him, trying to stay casual.

”Would you like to be?” Theon then asked immodestly, leaving you slightly stunned. ”By-…By you?” you asked, Theon gave you a smirk as comformation. ”I-I wouldn’t know what to do” you said shyly. Theon played with the strings of your night shirt and said ”Don’t worry, i’ll show you”.

He then pulled you in to a kiss, his lips pushing hungrily against yours. Theon pulled you both up from your seats leading you to the middle of the room as you made out. Theon pulled of your robe, then his own jacket and he continued until you were both left naked in front of each other.

Your dick had gotten erected from Theon’s sudden interest in you and it made Theon’s own manhood swell with pride. He took your wrist in his hand and guided your hand over his slightly fuzzy chest down to his erect manhood. It was the first time you had ever touched another man in such a manner.

He made you enclose your fingers around his hardend cock and tug at it a little, rubbing him off slowly. ”Feel what you do to me Y/n” he uttered.

He led you backwards towards your beds and your naked bodies climbed up on it. Theon laid you down on the bed and the two of you passionately made out. Theon moved his hands to you ass and let his fingers graze against your hole.

You were unfamiliar with his action as you had never experienced it before but let Theon continue. He slowly started pushing his finger inside you, making you audibly gasp against his lips at the feeling of being streched out. ”That’s right relax” Theon instructed.

Once he added next finger he did it more hastily, making you yelp quietly. Theon let out a small chuckle ”Such a warm nice cunt for me to fuck” Theon said before shoving in a third finger.

Theon then stood up on his knees, he grabbed you and positioned you on all fours, ass spread out in front of him. He spit in to his own hand rubbing it on his manhood. ”I’m gonna take you like a real lord would” Theon said which you wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a warning.

Theon didn’t waste any time and started pushing his rockhard cock inside your virgin hole, making you groan, feeling yourself be filled. ”Fuck your tight around my cock” Theon said pleasureably sheathing himself fully inside you.

Before you had time to adjust he snapped his hips forwards thrusting into you making you release a small cry. ”Was this what he had meant? Was this how lords fucked their wives?” you thought to yourself.

Theon grabbed your hips and started setting a pace a his hips thrust against your ass. His raw cock forcing your walls to stretch, you released several whines as Theon roughly plowed in to you. ”Fuck Theon, you’re so big” you said through your pained but pleasured moans.

Theon grabbed your head as he pounded your ass saying ”What would your steward father say? Seeing his son deflowered by Eddard’s Stark ward like some common whore”. As he thrusted as hard in to you as his body would let him.

”Maybe i should go get him after this and make him come look at his son’s cum stained body” Theon said cockily. You however couldn’t answer him as you had your face pressed against the matress moaning endlessly from the ecstasy of Theon’s cock fucking you.

”Maybe i should start coming by every night and make good use of your cunt and fill you with my seed” he suggested, his thrusts rocking your bed back and forth. ”Shame you can’t have my bastards” he added.

From the endless groans to the creaking bed, you hoped no one could hear you getting your virginity fucked out of you by Theon. You felt your own cock twitching getting close to your orgasm. ”I’m gonna cum” you moaned. And soon after your load dripped down on the sheets below.

Theon kept plowing in to you for several minutes, claiming your ass as his. Sweat glazed his and your body as the room had gotten hot and damp. He grunted and uttered a satisfied ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”.

With one last rough thrust Theon shoved his manhood deep inside you, his cock erupting staining your innocene with his warm seed. He then pulled out of you with a smirk, seeing his cum leak out of puckered hole and running down your legs. You collapsed on to the matress below in exhaustion.

Theon was just about to get ready to leave but he couldn’t leave you like this. He covered your nakedness under the covers and blankets. He then started getting dressed and before he left planted a kiss on your forehead saying ”You were so good to me, Y/n, better than any common whore, you were divine”. He then gave you a last kiss before he left your bed chambers with a smirk and a feeling of satisfaction, and maybe even a little bit of love.

[raven-dor]

everyone adores you (at least i do)

In which robb stark and his new bride get aquainted

PAIRING: robb stark x baratheon!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, new love, slight nsfw, reader is mentioned to have black hair

WORD COUNT: 2,827

The festivities had been fun-filled, to say the least, despite Catelyn having to leave before they started. Her goodbye had been bittersweet; Robb now had no adult relatives at the reception, and Y/N felt as if she was completely alone, even though she barely knew Catelyn. 

He hadn't touched a single drop of his ale, and Y/N couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. The night had soon ended, and they bid goodbye to their guests. Theon was the last to leave, smirking and leaning in, whispering in Robb's ear. She rolled her eyes; she had seen this before at many receptions in Kings Landing. The groom's friend would joke about the bride's virginity, and the groom would laugh, joking back. 

Robb's face went red, and he smacked Theon's shoulder. "Watch your mouth, Greyjoy."

Y/N was pleasantly surprised, her stomach fluttering at the thought of Robb defending her, even if they had just met. Theon nodded, obviously too drunk to be embarrassed. He looked over to Y/N, bowing mockingly. "My lady." 

She smiled kindly. "Have a restful night, Theon." 

Robb held out his arm. "Shall we retire?"

This is when all of the nerves Y/N had been holding off kicked in. She nodded, but from there to their chambers, she had sworn she blacked out. He shut the door, standing awkwardly by the fire. She looked out the window, fidgeting. 

"Should we-" 

"I'm not a virgin!" She looked down at the ground. "I'm not a virgin, so I-" Robb laughed. Actually laughed. She glared at him. "I would appreciate it if you didn't laugh at me." 

"It's not you, I just..." He stared at her like she had three heads. "Do you think I care?"

"Well... yes." She nodded. "Brides are supposed to be innocent." She tried to hold back her distaste for the term, though her face certainly showed it. 

He nodded. "Yes. They are. But that doesn't matter to me. Your honor shall remain intact; do not worry." 

Y/N smiled. "I didn't think this is how the night would go." 

"Oh." He sauntered over, staring at her dangerously. "And how did you imagine this night going?"

She fluttered her eyelashes, suddenly very flustered. "Well, in every nightmare, you would call me a whore and then take me without any-" Her eyes widened. "I mean-" 

He laughed even harder. "Oh, Y/N." His hand inched around her waist. "I hope the men in Kings Landing treated you correctly." His eyes squinted. "They didn't-" 

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "No, it was-" She blushed. "It was something we both wanted."

He nodded. "Well, in any case, we do not have to do anything tonight if you do not want to." He stepped back, taking off his cloak, boots, and shirt. She tried not to stare at his abdomen, looking anywhere else but him. 

"And how do you plan to keep my honor intact?" 

He pulled out a dagger, slicing a small cut on his palm. Y/N gasped. "Robb, that is-" 

He pulled the blanket up, putting a few drops of blood on the sheets. He admired his work like he was a painter. "See? No one shall be the wiser." 

Y/N sighed. "Come here. You're going to make a mess dripping blood everywhere." 

He sat in the chair by the fire, watching her every movement. She still had her wedding dress on, which made Robb happy. She looked like an angel. She huffed her hands on her hips as she skirted around the room, utterly lost. "Where is the bandage?"

"The cupboard, just there." 

She stood on her tiptoes, reaching up. "Ah." She walked back over, ripping some off. "I'll use some to clean it and then some ale to sterilize." 

"Sterilize? Just put the bandage on, I'll be fine-" 

"Just let me help you. It's the least I can do after you did this for me." 

"You don't have any debt, Y/N. I can do something kind for you, and you don't have to immediately repay me." 

"I know. I'm simply showing affection." She huffed. "Now, hold still, this will hurt." 

He laughed. "I believe I will be fine. It is only-" He hissed. "That stings." 

She laughed. "That is how you know it is working." He stared at her, smiling as she worked. She was beautiful in this light, he realized. She was beautiful in all lights. "There, all finished." She looked up, her breath catching. 

He smiled lightly, whispering. "Thank you."

She nodded, standing up. "Of course." She looked back out the window once more. "Should we-" A hand reached around her waist, pulling her back. 

"You are beautiful." 

"Robb-" She turned around, staring into his eyes. "We do not-" 

"If you do not want this, say the words, and I will go to bed. But I-" He gulped, staring at her lips. "I do." 

She smiled, her tense stance easing. "I do, too." 

"Thank the gods." He pulled her closer, bringing her lips to his. "You are divine." 

She laughed, melting in his arms. "Robb-" 

"I love when you say my name." He pulled at the strings on the back of her dress. "I- turn around." 

"I can undo them if you just give me a moment."

"No, I want to." She nodded, turning around. He quickly unlaced her dress, pupils dilating as her dress hit the floor. 

She turned back towards him slowly, face to the ground. He grinned, staring. "You are beautiful, have I told you?" 

"Just a few moments ago." She tilted her head, teasing. "But I wouldn't mind hearing it again." 

He grinned, pulling her closer. "You will hear it constantly; I will make sure of it." He walked her towards the bed. "Now lay back." 

The morning light peaked through the window, but neither of them stirred. Well, Y/N didn't stir; Robb had been up for hours staring at his wife, smiling gently at her still form. 

A knock came off the door, and Robb sighed, leaning his head back on the bedpost. "Come in!"

She still had not moved, not even when Maester Luwin walked in rather loudly, in Robb's opinion. "Good morning, my lord; the possible steward is here for your appointment."

He nodded, his face permanently stuck in a grimace. "Very well. I'll be down in just a moment." 

"My lord." Robb waited until Maester Luwin left to look back down at Y/N and found that she was already looking up at him. She laughed, caressing her hand over his chest. "Good morning." 

He glared playfully. "And how long have you been up?"

"Since Maester Luwin walked in with iron boots." She sat up, leaning her head on his shoulder. "He walks very loud." 

Robb nodded, smiling down at her. "He does, doesn't he?"

She stood up, walked across the room to her chest, and pulled out her dress for the day. "You have a meeting." 

He just stared, grinning much too brightly for how early it was. "Can a man not bask in his wife's presence?"

"You could," she pulled her petticoat on, " if you did not have a day full of appointments." 

He groaned. "And what will you be doing all day?"

"Giving Bran company." She laughed. "Perhaps I can entertain him into waking up." 

Robb smiled. "If anyone could, it would be you." 

She huffed, looking over her shoulder. "Can you lace my dress, please?"

He nodded, rolling out of bed. "The things I do for you." 

"Robb, we have been married for less than a day. Please do not start your complaining until-" She put a finger on her chin. "Until a week from now." 

"Very well." He laughed, pulling at the strings. "One more week of bliss." 

"Thank the gods." She smiled. 

Strolling through the halls with her books and breakfast in hand, Y/N finally felt at peace with her new life. It only took one night of- She blushed, shaking her head as if the action got rid of her thoughts. Bran's door was already open, and she’d grinned at the sight. 

"You're awake!" 

He just stared at her, not bothering to say anything. Old Nan smiled at the young woman. "My lady. I was just about to tell him a story about a crow."

Bran's voice was monotone as he spoke. "I hate your stories." 

"I know a story about a boy who hates stories." 

Y/N laughed, covering her mouth quickly. "Sorry." 

"I could tell you a story about Ser Duncan the Tall. Those were always your favorites." 

"Those weren't my favorites. My favorites were the scary ones." 

Old Nan sighed. "Oh, my sweet summer child. What do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter when the snow falls a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hide for years and children are born and live and die all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little lord when the White Walkers move through the woods. Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept and felt the tears freeze on their cheeks. So is this the sort of story that you like?"

Bran nodded. Y/N sat beside his bed, entranced. 

Old Nan continued. "The White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses. Hunting with their packs of pale spiders big as hounds-" 

The door rattled, and Bran and Y/N jumped. Robb walked through the door, smiling at his brother. He sighed, looking over to Old Nan. "What are you telling him now?"

"Only what the little lord wanted to hear." 

"Get your supper. I want some time with him." 

She nodded. "Perhaps that is enough of scary stories today." 

Robb waited until she had left to talk to his brother. "One time, she told me the sky was blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant named Macomber." 

Bran just stared, no emotions evident on his face. It broke her heart to see such a young boy so melancholy. "Maybe we do." 

Rob's smile fell, and he sat down on the bed beside Bran. "How do you feel? You still don't remember anything?" He shook his head softly. "Bran, I've seen you climb a thousand times. In the wind, in the rain... a thousand times. You never fall." 

"I did, though." He knew something, something he wasn't telling anyone, and Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with her family. "It's true isn't it, what Maester Luwin says about my legs?" 

Robb nodded. 

Bran sighed, looking at the ceiling. "I'd rather be dead." 

Robb's eyes widened. "Don't ever say that." 

Bran looked down, staring at his brother. "I'd rather be dead." 

She sighed. "Perhaps we should talk about something else." She smiled down at Bran. "Would you like to hear stories about King's Landing?"

Bran nodded slowly. "Alright." 

She leaned forward. "Anything you'd like to hear about in particular?" 

"Tell me about your parents." 

She laughed. "Are you quite serious?" He nodded once more, staring at her curiously. She gulped, putting her book on the table beside her. "Well, my parents, they..." She looked to Robb for help before realizing that he, too, had no idea what they were like. 

"My mother was very young when she had to marry my father. You know that your Aunt Lyanna and my father were engaged?" Bran nodded again. "My mother could never amount to your Aunt in my father's eyes, which caused problems in their marriage. Before I was born, my mother was pregnant with a boy, and when he was just a year old, he caught a fever. He couldn't shake it, even though he fought hard." She smiled sadly. "Very hard. He was my mother's first child with beautiful black hair. And then, when he died..." She took a deep breath. "My mother was heartbroken. My father wasn't allowed to grieve, and so he- I guess he used ale, mutton, and-" She looked at Robb, blushing. "Other things to forget. Then they had me." 

Bran tilted his head. "Do you know why none of your siblings have black hair like yours?"

She didn't know why persay, but she had a gut feeling. She had seen her mother and Uncle Jamie when she was younger, closer than they should have been for siblings. "I don't. The Lannister blond won thrice. I guess that means I'm stronger than the rest of them. My father, I guess, treats me kinder because I remind him of his firstborn, his darling boy." 

Robb scoffed. "Joffrey not good enough for him?"

Y/N laughed. "Joffrey is a wicked boy. I fear the day he rules, truly." She looked down at Bran, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "That's not to say they do not enjoy each other's company. Marriage is difficult, but my mother and father make it work. They may not be in love, but they understand each other." 

Bran huffed. "Your Uncle Jamie..." 

"Yes?"

"Is he close with your siblings?"

She nodded. "Closer than with me, that is for sure. He's very protective of them, which I appreciate. Tommen and Myrcella are good children; they need protection. Joffrey, on the other hand—" She laughed, shaking her head. "There is no saving that boy." 

Y/N smiled as Bran slept, glad that his mind was otherwise occupied. She hated that he wished death upon himself; he was so young, so full of life. Summer lay beside him, standing watch. The door opened, and Theon walked through, Bran's eyes shooting open. 

Summer growled, seemingly glaring at the young Greyjoy. Y/N cooed, shaking her head. "Summer, it's alright." 

Theon bowed. "We have visitors." 

Bran huffed. "I don't want to see anyone." 

"Really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad." 

She looked up from her book, staring expectedly. Theon smiled. "Not including you, my lady." He looked back to Bran. "Anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting." 

She stood, leaving her book on the table. "It'll be nice, the fresh air." 

Bran rolled his eyes. "There's fresh air here." 

She laughed. "You know what I meant, Bran."

"I don't want to go." 

Theon sighed. "Neither do I. But Robb's lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says, and you do what I say." He called out. "Hodor!"

A lumbering giant of a man walked through the door, smiling. "Hodor?"

"Help Bran down the hall." 

"So it's true." 

She grinned. "Hello, Uncle Tyrion." 

Tyrion waved, staring at Bran. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

Maester Luwin spoke. "He has no memory of that day." 

She hissed. "Uncle, what a question." 

He sighed. "Curious." 

The young woman walked up to the table, sitting beside Robb. "Why are you here?"

Tyrion ignored him, addressing Bran. "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt." 

"Kneel, Hodor." 

"Do you like to ride, Bran?"

The young boy nodded. "Yes. Well, I mean, I did like to."

Maester Luwin glared. "The boy has lost the use of his legs." 

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride." 

"I'm not a cripple." 

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it." 

Y/N sighed. "Uncle, please get to the point." 

 "I have a gift for you." He handed Bran a scroll. "Give that to your saddler; he'll provide the rest." He looked to Robb. "You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice." 

"Will I really be able to ride?"

Tyrion nodded. "You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them." 

Robb glared in confusion. "Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things." 

This only confirmed her suspicion that her family had something to do with Bran's situation. She leaned over, resting her hand on Robb's knee. "He is merely trying to help, my dear." 

 Robb nodded, looking back down to the Lannister. "You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours." 

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There, I'll find a bed, and both of us can sleep easier." 

"Uncle, please at least stay for dinner." She smiled. "I've so longed to hear of the Wall." 

He stared, his eyes softening. "Fine. But only because you are my favorite niece." 

[axelsagewrites]

Best Friend

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader

Summary: after a decade of friendship Robb is finally able to recognise his love but only after his best friend starts looking for a husband that isn't him.

TW: swears and Theon being Theon.

Fluff and angst all in one.

Word count: 2838

Masterlist Here

Robb Stark was so not in love with his best friend who he spent all his time with, who he taught how to ride and swing a sword just encase, who he ate lunch with every day in the gods wood, who he gazed at from his seat at the table, who he threatens every potential betrothal of, who he would constantly bring up in conversations nothing to do with them. No obviously not. Jon was crazy for suggesting the future lord of Winterfell would be in love by his best friend of near a decade.

“Of course I don’t fancy her you idiot,” Robb said as he and Jon sparred, “She’s my best mate you twat,”

Jon laughed as he half-heartedly deflected his brothers blows, “Of course not brother. Why else would you stare at her?”

“I do not stare,”

“You stare more at her than Theon does at arses,”

“It’s true,” Theon piped up from his spot a couple feet away. Robb sparred and learned from Jon and then Theon from Robb. Theon was stood close to the boys waiting for his turn against Robb. It was a routine they had down from their year of training together. “You’re in love with her mate,”

“Am not,”

“Am too,”

“Am not,”

“So can I try wooing her then?” Theon asked.

Robb spun around and pointed his sword just in front of his throat, “Don’t even think about it Greyjoy,” Robb swung his sword back and continued sparring with Jon, this time with more force in his swing. Jon faltered slightly as he quickened his pace to keep up, “We all know what you mean by wooing and if you dare try fuck her-“

“Hey guys,” Robbs eyes went wide and he quickly lowered his sword and shut his mouth, “Whatcha talking about?”

Jon and Theon snickered as Robb tried to ignore his face growing hot. “Nothing much. Just these too idiots,” Robb said and (Y/N)’s smile did not help his blush. “You know what Theon’s like,”

“What poor girl are you tormenting this week?” (Y/N) asked Theon with a grin.

Theon gave Robb and even bigger grin before walking up to (Y/N), “Could be you if you wanted darling,”

The girl rolled her eyes with a smile but a slight grimace at the same time, “You wish Greyjoy,”

“Who doesn’t?” Theon flung his arm over her shoulder which was met by a glare from Robb.

“In your dreams idiot,” she shrugged herself free from his lose grip before turning back to Robb, “You still on for today?”

“Yeah I’ll meet you in the woods when I’m done here,”

“Okay Robbie see you then,” she said as she walked past him, touching his shoulder as she passed, “Bye Jon, see you never Theon,”

“Bye (Y/N),” Jon called after her as she entered the castle, presumably going to the kitchen to sort for her and Robbs lunch. “Not in love still?”

“Shut up and duel me idiot,” Robb snapped.

(Y/N) was already sat by the weirtree in their usual spot in the woods when Robb arrived. “I wish you would wait for me to walk you here,” He said when he approached. Robb was always worried especially over his best friend. You never know who will be in the woods. What would he do if she got hurt? He dared to imagine.

“Nothing bad has happened to me yet,” she said, patting the spot beside her which he quickly filled, “besides you take ages,”

“Do not,”

“Do too. But I forgive you,” (Y/N) smiled and Robb hummed in fake annoyance. “I brought lunch,” she pulled the basket she had brought over, “They even prepared it ahead of time today,”

“They’re probably so used to this by now,” Robb said as he took the basket from her, “Ooo raspberry tarts,” He grinned and passed one to (Y/N).

“Aren’t those for after the sandwiches?” she asked but was already taking a bite out of it.

Robb smiled and watched as she ate it, “But they’re your favourite so why wait?” he said, leaving his own tart in the basket.

The two shared lunch and talked about the random things they had heard through the day. Along with a healthy amount of gossip of course.

“So, who was Theon talking about before I came along?” she asked as she handed Robb her apple.

Robb took the apple and his dagger from his belt and began to peel it for her like he had done every day for the past almost year since they started this tradition, “Oh it was nothing,”

“It sounded like something,” she said, “C’mon you always tell me his latest whorey history,”

“It wasn’t about a whore,” Robb felt his neck grow red and begged it wouldn’t go to his face, “he was talking about you,”

(Y/N) made a face, “Like in general or how he talks about his whores?”

“Id slit his throat if he talked about you like that,” Robb said with no laugh in his voice. He passed the now peeled apple back to her, “Nah he was just being a dick and that and talking about you to try wind me up,”

“Why would talking about me wind you up? We’re best friends,”

Even the way she bit into her apple was cute. Why had it took his friends pointing it out for Robb to realise how over the moons he was with her? And why did he feel the need to spit it out in a stream of word vomit that would surely end the friendship they’d grown? It took everything in him to shrug his shoulders and change the conversation.

The whole subject and talks with his brother had sent his head spinning that the only thing that snapped him out of it was (Y/N) saying, “My fathers looking for a suitor for me. I hate it,”

“He’s what? Why?”

“Because apparently im going to die an old maid if I don’t wow some fancy dancy lords son or ancient lord soon,” she sighed as she dug through the basket for another treat, “He’s talking about sending me all over the north or ever down to the reach to go to random balls and tourneys to try meet more people,”

“You cant leave,” Robb felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, “You’re my best friend I wont have you shipped across the country to some random old fucker who-“

“I don’t want to go either,” She cut him off, “I don’t think he’s going to send me out the north yet but he wants me to go to some ball the Karstarks are throwing for one of their sons. He’s even ordered me a new dress,”

“You don’t need a new dress. You need to stay in Winterfell,” Robb grabbed her hand before even thinking. The idea the possibility of her leaving. He didn’t want to let her go. Not yet. Or ever.

“I’m trying Robb. I promise I am. But he needs a reason to keep me here. We’re not kidding anymore,” her smile was sad and she squeezed his hand in return.

They fell silent for a few minutes. Robb knew she was right. Hell, he knew her father was right. But he didn’t want her to marry a random lord. He didn’t want her to leave.

He barely spoke the rest of the day. During his family dinner he sat and poked at his meat as his sisters bickered and his brothers argued. His mother tried to defuse the situation while his father tried to stop his wives glares at Jon. His father had insisted he at least joined their private dinners.

None of it really mattered to Robb who just pushed the potatoes from side to side. With a sigh Catelyn turned from her daughters to her eldest, “And what’s bothering you darling? Has Jon broken your comb as well?” Sansa scowled and Arya sniggered to which they both received a sharp look, “You’ve barely ate,”

“Not hungry,”

“You need to eat,”

Robb didn’t reply and instead turned to his father, “Are we going to the Karstarks ball thing?”

Neds’ eyes widened but he quickly relaxed, “I wasn’t planning on it. How come? You’ve never been into balls son,”

“Was just wondering,” he continued picking at his food as his father attempted to lighten the mood.

“Who told you about it? Did lord Karstark ask you? Cause I’ve been avoiding him recently,” Ned chuckled, “I’m still looking for an excuse to stay here,”

“(Y/N) told me,”

“She is going then?” Ned asked. Robb nodded, “Is that why you’re upset?”

“Never said I was upset,” Robb let go of his fork, letting it clatter onto the table, “Just not hungry and was wondering about the Karstarks. Sorry for being informed,”

“Don’t talk to your father like that,” Catelyn snapped. The table grew quiet and his siblings shared concerned looks. Never not once had they heard Robb be snarky towards either of their parents. “Whatever has gotten into you-into all of you, cut it out. Im sick of it. finish your dinners everyone. Robb if you’re not hungry you can leave,”

Robbs chair screeched across the floor as he left the room without a word. Ned laid his cutlery down and stared at his plate before standing from the table and following Robb. The room was silent as he left.

“Wait right there,” Ned called after Robb who was about to go around the corner to his chambers. Robb huffed and stared out a window as he waited for his father to approach, “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for being snarky,” Robb mumbled.

Ned sighed and grabbed his son’s shoulder and spun him to face him. He held Robbs shoulders and forced the boy to face him, “What happened son?”

“Lord Karstarks and his stupid sons are having a stupid ball with stupid lords who stupid (Y/N) is going to do stupid dances with because her morainic father has stupid ideas,” Robb felt his eyes water but he couldn’t care anymore,

“Well I’m glad you know more words than stupid,” Ned sighed and dropped his hands from his shoulders, “but you shouldn’t be calling the girl stupid for looking for a husband,”

“But- “

“But nothing,” he interrupted him “you obviously love the girl so don’t be calling her names,”

Robb sighed and wiped away the tears that had spilled, “I don’t know why I’m being like this. Im sorry I should- “

“Should. Look son,” Ned sighed and began to walk Robb to his chambers, “Life is hard. Really hard. Marriage is even harder. Then eventually there’s children. Trust me you lot are the hardest,” he laid a hand on Robbs shoulder, “but its much easier when you love the person sharing it with you. If you love this girl, if you truly do, neither me nor your mother would dare try stop you from marrying,”

“But what if she doesn’t want me? What if she wants some fancy lord with silk robes and shiny hair?”

Ned looked his son up and down, “First of all remember who you are. You’re a stark. Women love us,” Robb cringed at his father’s joke, “Don’t think I don’t know about the lotions you get from Maester Luwin for your hair,” this time Robb managed to laugh, “but more importantly its you she spends all her time with. And even if she didn’t want to marry you,” Robbs smile quickly faded as he faced the reality that she may reject him, “eventually you will have to marry. And you will spend the rest of your life regretting not at least finding out,”

Ned stayed longer and comforted his son and told him stories of his early days in marriage. The ways in which he wooed over his already wife and how she looked on their wedding day. Robb had never been more certain. His father had briefly mentioned that even politically she was a good match considering her father but neither Stark cared overly about that.

Jon had stopped by after a while to check on him and Robb confessed everything. The tears and the build up all spilled out. Jon patted his brother’s shoulder, “Of course she’ll marry you. She’d be an idiot not to. Who wants a Karstarks over a Stark?”

Then eventually Robb was left alone. He tried to sleep but it wouldn’t come. He watched the moon from his window and wondered what he would say. How would he even bring it up? Would he propose straight away? Just kiss her. Confess his love first then kiss her? What would she say? What would her father say?

Before he realised what he was doing he was stood at the door of her chambers. he paced back and forth wondering whether or not to knock. It was late. The moon was high. She was probably asleep. He held his hand up to the door and sighed. He waited a minute and then he heard footsteps. If his mother heard he was out here at this time she’d kill him. So, he knocked. Rather quickly. He kept knocking until the door finally opened.

(Y/N) didn’t have time to question the boy before he rushed in her room and she peered down the corridor in confusion. Upon seeing no man with a sword running to kill Robb she finally shut it, “What’s your deal?” she yawned.

“I need to talk to you,” Robb turned to face the girl before quickly averting his gaze. But he had already saw her in her night gown which did little to cover the shape of the girl he had been secretly pining over. It was rare for him to see any women undressed let alone (Y/N) in such a natural state.

She looked down, noticing what Robb had and a pink tinge coated her cheeks. (Y/N) quickly grabbed a lounge robe from her chair and pulled it around her. “What are you doing here Robb?” she asked as she approached him.

“I-,” he stopped himself and looked out the window as he tried to think of the perfect sentence but none would come to him. She stepped closer and Robb turned back and grabbed her arms gently, “I was thinking. You shouldn’t go to the ball. You should stay here,” Robb led her to sit on her bed and she took his hands into hers.

“I want to stay Robb,” she said “but my father- “

“Wants you married I know. But why can’t you marry someone here? You could stay in Winterfell, start a family,” he was almost begging at this point, “Why do you need to start your search so far away?”

“It’s barely a two-hour ride. I’ll be safe trust me. I’ll be with my father and my family and-“

“Not with me,” Robb gripped her hands tighter. It was now or never. Ignoring his body screaming at him to stop he continued, “I want you to stay here. With me. In Winterfell. For so many more years to come,” Robb moved the stray hairs from her face. He had never seen it flow like this. It was messy from her sleep and not tied back or braided like it usually was. He wished to see (Y/N) like this a thousand more times.

“Of course, I want to stay,” her voice was equally desperate as his, “but I’m not going to be gone forever. Its one ball Robb and I’ll be back here. I promise,”

“For how long though? A week? A month? Another ball will come up or a tourney. You said yourself your father was thinking about the reach- “

“I don’t know for sure- “

“I want you to stay,” he cut her off and she sighed in return. Robb edged closer to her on the bed, “Wouldn’t you like to stay?”

“I would want nothing more,” her voice was almost a whisper now, “I’d happily stay here forever with you just so we could have our lunches but my fathers right. I need to find a husband,”

“Maybe you’ve already found one,” his voice was equally low now and with every second they seemed to be closer, “Why do you need to go so far to find someone you already have?”

“But Robbie your family- “

“Have already approved the match,” Robb began to rub circles on her hand with his thumb, “And im sure your father would do the same. But only if you want to. I wont force you to stay but if you want to it would be my honour to marry you,”

A smile fell upon her lips. It was soft and gentle and sweet and caring and everything Robb felt about her. her eyes glistened but not from sadness. This time she was the one to shuffle closer, “Then the gods have finally listened to my prayers. There’s no one I’d rather spend my life besides,”

A/N: this all started because I was eating an apple and didnt want to do my uni work. However I am tempted to possibly maybe try writing some kind of smut sequel maybe possibly (cause I have never wrote straight up smut so I trying to tackle that will be interesting lol)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

I recently read your theon fic and it's so good!! If you're still taking requests, would you consider writing something for theon again? Maybe a childhood friends to lovers with a Stark reader? It can be as short or long as you want and feel free to make it smutty!! And again love your writing! Going through the rest of your GoT fics now hehe

Omission

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Stark!Reader

Warnings: smut cuz anon told me i could! 😂, implied sex work in the winter town, slightly manipulative reader? 🤔, cunnilingus, face riding, praise kink, first orgasms, secret relationship 🤫, nipple biting, implied childhood friends, mentions of periods, mentioned past face riding

Words: 2432

"Oh shut up, Robb." Giving your twin brother a harsh shove, Robb merely laughs at you as you pummel your gloved fists against his shoulders. "Now I know you're just teasing me."

"Sweet (y/n), do you really think I would lie to my dear twin?"

Your eyes round as you gape at him. "You lie to me on a daily basis, Robb Stark!" Dealing him another smack on the head, Robb pleads for mercy from your tiny fists of fury. Seeing that he's given up, you let your arms fall back to your side, glaring at him. "There's no way. I've seen the two of you sneaking out to the winter towns. Probably to the brothels."

"You think so little of us men, don't you." He sighs and leans his back against the ominous face of the heart tree. To southerners, the face may appear quite macabre with the streams of red that streak out of it's eyes. Having been around it since the day you were born, it was never something to fear. Something to cower away from.

The castle of Winterfell was always hustling and bustling with the work of the many hands that were required to smoothly run it. Along with those of the large Stark family. Eight children including the Greyjoy ward, Theon, had the halls filled with loud shouting, singing, or laughing.

Out in the personal godswood that your family possessed, you and your twin brother liked to get away just to catch up. He was heir of Winterfell being the first born boy. You were separated from him and given the education that any other prestigious young lady of Westeros received. Unfortunately you never had lessons that overlapped with one another, despite your many complaints to your parents.

And what was your dear brother divulging to you? The fact that your father's ward Theon was so obviously smitten with you that even you were aware of his affections. You'd indulge your brother though and pretend not to know a thing. You'll keep your knowledge to yourself and utilize later. Pretend that you hadn't just been making out with Theon just a few hours prior. Robb may be your other half, but this was a secret that you couldn't truly share with him and swore Theon to secrecy. No, Robb was too close to Ned. He could accidentally let something slip to indicate your true relationship with the kraken boy.

A potential suitor for you, the eldest of Ned's daughters, hadn't been discussed fully though you'd heard whispers from the maids and lords in the halls. Trying to guess who your father would give you away to. Theon would not be a candidate.

"I just thought you should know how he feels." Robb hums.

"You know nothing real can come from it." Pointing out, you feel something seize in your chest. It thickens your throat so that pushing out your words was a struggle. "Theon and I. . . Even if- and I'm not saying I like him that way- even if we got together father would never allow it."

He purses his lips in response. "If we bring up the case properly, I believe father will hear us out."

You shake your head. Robb was ever the optimist.

"Don't say anything about it to father." Simply telling him, you use the trunk of the tree to help yourself get up. The weight of your gown skirts tend to pull you down. In response, Robb gets up as well and helps to dust you off. "Please Robb. I don't want Theon getting in trouble." That was the last thing the two of you needed was Ned to increase his surveillance toward Theon. While he cared for the boy, he was always wary due to the Greyjoy Rebellion. They'd proven to be untrustworthy and Ned being a realist always held concern that Theon would grow to be just like Balon Greyjoy.

You didn't know the Lord of the Iron Islands and Theon didn't speak much about him but from what little you were able to gather, you'd say Theon would be nothing like his sire. Lord Ned already felt like Theon was a bad influence on Robb with his cocky attitude and cavalier nature. He did not desire any of his children to adopt those traits.

"Okay okay." He's holding your hand as the two of you trudge through snow to get back to the warmth of the castle. "But. . . do you think you can be a little nicer to him now that you know he holds a flame for you? It's bad enough Sansa and mother always treat him coldly."

Frowning you glance at him. "I'm always nice."

You hate how he rolls his Tully blue eyes. "You're always frigid when he's around. You weren't like that when we were all children. You used to hang off him. But you've changed since. . . since you flowered. . ."

Again he finds your hands smacking his arm. "Please don't EVER mention my cycles again." Your cheeks were burning, embarrassed that Robb was even aware when you'd had your first moonblood.

As you enter through the kitchens, Robb's laughter rings above the other chattering. "My apologies. I forget that you're a proper lady now. Like mother and Sansa." He fake curtsies and you have half the mind to kick his shin until your septa shows up; breathless like she's been running around all over Winterfell.

"There you are!" She hisses and stomps toward you.

Robb abandons you to flee and save himself.

Even with your slippers covering your feet, the piercing cold of the stone floor got past even the thickest of wool. Frozen toes were a small price to pay; especially when Theon will happily warm them up once you get to his room. There were a few obstacles you had to bypass in your route. Nothing you couldn't handle.

You'd made this journey many times in the past two years.

Robb wasn't being dramatic when he claimed your change toward Theon. From innocent children to teenagers, everything happened so fast that you weren't really able to comprehend what was going on with your own head. When Theon first arrived to your family, you were a small child. You and Robb grew attached to him immediately. For so long you saw him as a brother. Then it just stopped the moment you bled.

That's when you saw Theon. . . differently.

"I was wondering if you'd make it tonight." Barely stepping in front of his door but a second ago, you grin at his eagerness and let him pull you in. Quietly shutting his door as to not alarm anyone, Theon spins around and envelops you in his arms.

Nuzzling into the warmth of his chest, you sigh in contentment. All the stress of your day rolling right off of you. Even within the security of his room, you still kept your voice to barely above a whisper. "I thought about it. . . Robb's onto you, you know. I'm worried he'll discover the truth."

Theon sits you down on his bed, wrapping one of his fur blankets around you so that you could warm yourself up. Wandering off to the table in his room, he pours two chalices of wine. "Just tell him. I keep telling you he'd take the secret to his grave. Your brother would never risk getting you in that much trouble."

"Not consciously." Pulling the fur tighter, you focus on the softness. "He might imply something to our father in his attempt to help us. Robb thinks our lord father can be reasoned with about a relationship between the two of us."

He's quiet with his back turned to you, busying himself with stoking the fire in the hearth. You watch shadows cast by the fire dance along the broad width of his shoulders.

"Why wouldn't your father marry you to me?" Theon asks after a moment of quiet contemplation. When he faces you again, there's a streak of hurt in his eyes that makes your stomach drop. "It would strengthen bonds between the north and the Iron Islands. And I can't imagine you marrying anyone else but me. I knew from the moment we met that you would be my bride."

Any other time you might have laughed at the idea. Empathetic, you rise from the bed and float over to him; caressing his stubbled cheeks with both of your hands and drawing him closer. In a perfect world MAYBE your father would have considered marrying you off to the last surviving Greyjoy son. His blood was too precious to him though and you knew Ned would only ever choose a husband for you that hailed from the north. Especially since he knew Robb would raise hell if you were given to any other kingdom in Westeros. It was only right that twins stay together after all.

You know how to pull his mind away from such unpleasantness. If you fell victim to those thoughts. . . it would only make your life miserable. The way you handled your reality may not be healthy and this certainly should be addressed, but you were too scared to discuss it. Cowardice you knew it was. You covered it up with saccharine kisses that coaxed Theon to lower his guard.

Your world was full of lies. Perhaps not outright lies, but you were still omitting the truth to your entire family.

If it meant keeping Theon's kisses all to yourself, you didn't feel too bad about it.

This discussion would be brought up again in the future. That was inescapable. You rue the day when Ned finally decided on your husband. Theon would raise hell. You'd hold it off for as long as possible. The maiden in you wanted to believe in this fantasy that Theon thought would come true. Far more happy than what was in store for you in your future.

Having to bend slightly over your short form (you hated how much taller Sansa was than you. It wasn't fair. You were older than her yet you barely were an inch taller than Arya!), once both of you break the kiss for much needed air, Theon presses his forehead against your's, his nose brushing against you're cheek similar to the barn cat that you liked to cuddle with. Rubbing his scent onto you as a claim.

Swiftly his hands grab at your rear as he hoists you up into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around him for stability. His lips trail kisses along your neck up to the juncture of your neck.

"Do you remember when I first took you?" Theon asks, lips moving against your skin.

Your fingers curl, dragging him closer to you. If you truly could have things your way, you'd never let him go. Freezing the moment to never ending stillness. It was a selfish want, but you didn't care for you truly loved Theon; even if you could never say it out loud to him. If you did then he would do everything and anything to make sure you were wed to him. You didn't doubt that treason would be one of those options. You'd seen it in his eyes before when you let the discussion of getting married went on for too long. You couldn't indulge him.

How could you not remember the day he pierced your maidenhead? The very same day you broke down to him, admitting that you were uncontrollably attracted to him. Longing and desire replaced the once childish adoration you held for him. Ever since your first cycle, it was like your entire body was on fire when Theon was remotely near you.

When you admitted everything, Theon took you back to his room and. . . well. . . From between your legs he spouted nonstop words of adoration and utter devotion to you, his beloved Lady of the North. He confessed to going to the brothels in the winter towns but only so that he could learn how to please you in the bed in order to win you over. How else would he be able to compete against all the other lords that would come calling?

Honestly, you barely heard most of the words he was saying above the roaring of your heartbeat in your ears. A surprise that no one heard you screaming when you had your first climax. Terrified at first and not understanding what was happening to you, Theon ever so softly coaxed you with his tongue and soft touches until you relaxed and came. He encouraged you to shove your cunt into his face (his words, not your's). Even if you were afraid that you would suffocate him or break his nose. That would only make him more persistent. Your face was beaming bright red when he positions your entire body over his face and with the sheer strength of his arms, dips you up and down onto his tongue.

Theon folded you into positions you'd never imagined following that first encounter. From that moment on, you were his. And you couldn't imagine anyone else touching you like Theon did. When his fingers roamed over your skin, it was like he was reading from a book. All your sweet spots spelled out just for him in invisible ink.

From your hooded expression, Theon came to the proper conclusion that you did indeed remember that day which makes his lips curl into a wicked grin. His pupils are clearly blown out in the pools of blue.

Taking care to lay you down gently onto the surface of his bed, the furs around your shoulders fall and splay around you, revealing your nightgown and the small peaks of your erect nipples grazing against your shift.

Theon captures a nipple that poked from your shift. His front teeth softly put pressure making you mewl and writhe under him. You feel a hand glide up your thigh until it rests on your naked hip. "I think of it as the happiest day of my life. Not just because I finally got to fuck you, but also because you said you had feelings for me as I did for you."

Familiar warmth pushes past your lower lips that have you gasping and attempting to arch your back, but Theon makes sure you can't squirm.

Over the blood rushing through your ears and the numbing of your brain as he pumps his fingers in and out while easily sliding in a second and third one; you caught the low whisper of his voice.

"Whatever it takes. I'll make you my bride."

[kzen-sno]

Pretty Lady

Theon x Reader Fluff

A/N: Part 2 will be angst, I'll update when it's out.

_______________________________________

"Why did you do that George?" I mutter frustratedly as my eyes run over the sentence again and again. I rest my face on my hand in exasperation while my other hand is holding the romance novel I was reading. The main protagonist admitted that he loved the love interest but could not be with her, which resulted in the love interest running off and crying.

I folded the corner of the page and closed my book. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a few seconds because of the strain I'd been putting on them.

I inhaled, the scents of Winterfell entering my nose and out. I was relaxing in the courtyard of the castle, my favorite spot by the bow and arrow range so I could be in the presence of my siblings. I am the oldest Stark daughter, 14 years old, with Robb one year older than me.

I open my eyes and see Bran and Rickon goofing off, running around playing pretend knights. They're such idiots, but I love them nonetheless. I smiled and opened my book again, ready to confront George's stupidity. Suddenly, my book was snatched up from my lap.

"Theon! Seven hells! Give me my book back!" I exclaimed, standing up. Theon grinned at me, already halfway down the courtyard. "Come get it, Y/N!" He shouted as he ran off. Furious, I ran after him through the courtyard and into a stone hallway. He stopped at a dead end and I caught up to him. His shit-eating grin was making him so infuriating but even more handsome, so much that I wanted to smack it off of him.

"Give my book back." I gritted my teeth. "Now, now, my lady. No need to be all worked up about it." He chuckled and moved the book out of my reach as I tried to snatch it away from him. "You know I hate being called that, especially by you," I said. "Plus, you're 15 now, how could you be more immature than me when I'm younger than you?" I glared up at him.

He stepped closer to me and I stepped back. "I'm not being immature." He smirked, voice dropping. He stepped closer, and I stepped back. "It's just..." he stepped closer, I stepped back, my back nearing the ledge, acting as a wall and an open window to the village. "...very..." He stepped closer, I was leaning on the ledge. He sat my book on it and he hoisted me onto the ledge. "What are you doing?" I whispered while sitting on the ledge, him getting closer.

He placed a firm hand on my back to prevent me from falling backwards and he got so close to me that I could smell his woody scent. "...very entertaining to me." He murmured, smirking. I felt my heart about to bust out of my chest. "You're blushing." He commented, looking very amused. I was suddenly very aware of the burning sensation in my face. "N-no I'm not." I stuttered, looking at his chest.

He smiled as he looked down at me. He took my chin gently and lifted it up so he could look at my face. "You're pretty like this." He said. "Am I not always pretty?" I challenged in a spur of the moment, staring into his eyes. He was caught off guard and he laughed. "That you are, my lady." He chuckled. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Lady Y/N." He smiled. I rolled my eyes, knowing he did that intently. "You want off of this ledge?" He asked. "You know I can do that myself, Theon," I said, annoyed at him. He chuckled and suddenly grabbed my waist and set me gently on the ground and started to walk away. "Did you not hear me, Greyjoy?" I called to him, angrily. "I did." He said back. "I just decided not to listen."

I huffed angrily as I took my book. "Also, Lady Stark wanted to speak to you. She's in the dining room!" He called. "You could've told me that earlier! I'm going to get scolded!" I yelled back angrily. "Till the next time, Y/N!" He laughed and walked away. I quickly went to find my mother, fuming. "We live together! What is he talking about?!" I muttered angrily to myself, secretly wishing I could hear him calling me Lady again.

[bad-got-imagines]

freedom las vegas!!! eventual bolton?(;D)!reader x theon greyjoy

your bastard brother ramsey bolton was torturing some guy again. you sighed as you heard the screaming, wishing he’d just shut up so you could focus on dissecting the dead baby fox in front of you. you licked its blood off your finger as your bedroom door pounded.

“what?” you called out, pissed that ramsey got to be the heir and u didn’t.

“mr bolton wants u to cum to his torture room. NOW!!!!1!!” you recognised miranda’s stupid preppy voice. she tried to be dark and evil like u and ur brother but she was too much of a whore.

“fuck off slut!” you heard her huff and stomp away. regardless, you obeyed your brother - he was a man after all - and hopped to his room.

“ah y/n!” he grinned when you leapt through the door frame, feeding your momentum into an army roll into him.

“what do u want?” you roared, flirtily.

“this fucking man is theon greyjob.” he pointed to the very thing and panting man tied up, spread-eagle on the cross of jesus christ our lord amen.

“sso?” you retorted.

“i am torturing him.” he whispered back.

“and?’

“i am fucking torturing him!!!!!!!!1!!!!!” he had had a stomach ache so was being a cranky pants >:( ((((((a/n poor ramsee >o< love u bby ramsey boltun: love u 2 author-chan me: >:00))))).

“fine. i will suck his toes” you sighed. ramsey grinned as you go to your knees.

(((((((((((a/n incest is sexxy if you are incestrophobic then gtfo!!!! >>>:[))))))))

but when you looked up, theon’s dirty big toe sat on your tongue, your eyes met his light blue orbs. they were....... beautiful.

the toe dropped put of your mouth with a slimy pop, “theon handjob. i am in love with you!!”

his crystal cerulean sight balls filled with tears, “babygirl I love you 2!!!1!”

you stood up and with your bare hands you snapped ramseys neck.

“now we r free my love.” you roared. and grabbed his hand.

theon laughed, “seize the means of production.”

you laughed too.

it was time to be yourself: y/n targaryen, the lost princess of old valyria and heir to throne of gondor.

[2braincellslz]

Robb: what's are team name?

Theon: oh... I dont know...

Robb: what about Throbb?

Theon: oh, I like that. I like that a lot actually

Robb, trying not to laugh: is that your first time hearing that? Do you know what it means?

Theon: ???what? No? What's it from???

Robb: it's our ship name

Theon: oh god, really?

[cdragons]

I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.  

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

 “WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips.  The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her.  Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Tell me a tale

Pairing: Jacelyn Bywater x Fem. Reader (House Greyjoy / Third person POV)

Themes: Angst | Soft

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares | Death | Blood | Fire | Pain | Loss of limbs

Wordcount: 1.8k words

Summary: Jacelyn Bywater wakes up from his injuries and finds himself with someone else in his chamber.

Rules and tag form here.    

Based on the results of this poll | Inspo for Lonely Light 

Jacelyn lay abed, dreaming.

Red-haired and red-garbed Thoros charged through a gaping hole with that flaming sword of his, then a lordling from Bear Island. And him.

He was the third through the breach and the first to kill. Some petty lordling, one whose name he would never remember. The air was thick with the smog of smoke from so many fires, and foul with the stench of burning wood and blood and death. Towers were ablaze, the flames that engulfed them rising higher and higher. Screams of the dead and dying rattled around the stone walls, mingling with the bitter song of steel clashing against steel. Pain of the acutest kind coursed through his arm. He screamed. 

A strange but sweet sound chased him to waking. Jacelyn's eyes flew wide open. He looked around his chamber, at the weak fire sputtering in the hearth. He felt the salt and damp lingering in the air, the dressing covering the stump that was all that remained of his right hand. He sighed. 

And heard her. She scurried about, spreading fresh rushes over the stone floor. The sweet sound he heard was her singing a haunting air, one that was full of promise and magic.

"You..." he croaked feebly, trying to sit up. It was such a simple act, one he took for granted. Jacelyn found he could not do it, not with a missing hand and a body feeling like it had been set ablaze from head to toe. "Help me. Please."

She came to his bed, shyly, hesitantly. Soft hands slipped under Jacelyn's arms. He bit his tongue when unbearable pain threatened to cripple him. He cried out when he could no longer bear it. It shamed him. 

"My pardons, my lord." She fussed over him, fluffing his pillows, arranging his coverlet, and making him more comfortable. "I did not mean to hurt you." 

Jacelyn took one deep breath after another. The pain slowly ebbed and turned into a dull but bearable throb. 

"It is not your fault," he conceded and opened his eyes, studying her with barely disguised curiosity. She did not look like a servant. She certainly did not dress or carry herself like one. And the way she spoke, her words clear and direct, like she was high-born. Jacelyn was puzzled. Balon had no daughters, none that he knew of anyway. "Pray why are you here?"

“This room needed fresh rushes,” she murmured. “And the servants were busy elsewhere.”

“My thanks,” Jacelyn said. “May I ask who you are?” 

"Y/n Greyjoy," She introduced herself and padded to the fireplace. She knelt by an old wicker basket and picked fresh blocks of peat for the fire. "If it please you."

"Greyjoy?" Jacelyn's eyes went wide with surprise. “You are Balon’s daughter?”

"Yes. Yara and myself." Y/n dusted her skirts and rose, satisfied that the fire was burning brighter now. "She is here too, on this floor. Lord Stark insisted. For our safety."

"And your brothers?" 

"The Drowned God called Rodrik and Maron into his embrace. Theon is all that remains now." Y/n glanced at Jacelyn, her hands clasped behind her back. 

He was tall, so very tall. It was just happenstance that they had a featherbed long and wide enough for him. And he was so heavy, like an ox. Y/n felt it when she helped him sit up. Her eyes drifted over a thick tangle of black wavy hair that fell to his shoulders and deep-set brown eyes. A handsome man, one that was brave and honorable, so the other soldiers said. 

"You do not grieve for them, my lady?" Jacelyn observed. Y/n eyes were clear, even in the light of the fire. If she wept for her slain brothers, no sign showed upon her countenance.

"I wept for them." Y/n shook her head and returned to his side. She sat by his feet and leaned against the post. "If that is what you mean. But what good would more tears do? Rodrik and Maron made their choice. He who dwells beneath the waves decided the rest."

A harsh place breeds harsh people, a maester once said. Jacelyn could not blame the Iron Born for it. The islands were unyielding and needed fierce people to rule them. 

"You think I am cold and unfeeling," y/n smiled sadly. She had seen something flash in his eyes. Whether it was judgment or something else, she could not tell. 

"I do not," Jacelyn protested weakly. His head swam when pain sliced up his right arm like a thousand blades, forcing him to lay back. "The... pain..." he breathed, his voice hoarse and ragged. "Something... anything..."

Y/n had already risen to her feet. She made her way to a small chest of drawers, opening and closing them until she found what she was looking for. When she returned, she held a small glass bottle filled with milky fluid in one hand and a tiny spoon in the other. 

"Open your mouth," she ordered, and sat beside him.

Jacelyn did as he was bid while she poured out a measure of milk of the poppy for him. What washed down his throat was bitter and grainy, but the relief that followed was palpable. 

"Thank you," he mumbled gratefully.

"Shall I call for a Maester?" Y/n inquired. What knowledge she had in the healing arts was limited to tending to her brothers' bruises and the rare spoonful of milk of the poppy. And Jacelyn had paled. It alarmed her. "Let me fetch one. Truly, you look like you need one."

"No," Jacelyn mumbled weakly. He had grown weary of being fussed over and prodded at by Maesters. "No Maesters. Please."

Y/n nodded and left to put the bottle and spoon away. When she came back, she found Jacelyn looking at her intensely.

"Where am I?" he inquired after a while. 

Y/n smoothed her skirts and sat by him. "The Bloody Keep, my lord..."

"No my lords," Jacelyn interrupted her, not unkindly. "I am no lord, my lady. I am not even a Ser. Just call me Jacelyn. And please... go on. Why is this place called the Bloody Tower?"

"It is the guest tower," y/n flushed when he smiled, a weak but gentle smile that lit up eyes that were warm and open. "We call it the Bloody Tower because once, over a thousand years ago, the sons of a River King were slaughtered in a room above this one. If you listen carefully of a night, you might even hear their wails."

The knowledge gave Jacelyn the shivers. Y/n merely laughed. It was a sweet sound, as enchanting as her singing. Jacelyn found it more soothing than any tonic. 

"There is nothing to worry about, my lo..." she quickly corrected herself when he arched a brow. "Jacelyn. Their wails, such as they are, are almost always drowned out by the roar of the waves. And their shades harm no one. You are perfectly safe, I assure you."

"Hmm," Jacelyn hummed. He did not wish to hear bloody crib tales. He already had his fill of blood and violence. "Perchance you have any other tales, my lady? Something with a sweeter ending?"

A story. Jacelyn wanted a story, something with a happy ending. Y/n was a lady of the Iron Islands. Tales with happy endings were few and far between here. Still, it was what he wanted to hear. She thought and thought, and then a story her mother used to tell her came to mind.

"There is a tale about Lonely Light," she started her tale. "The land is barren. No living person has set foot upon its shores and lived to talk about it, save for one."

Jacelyn nodded, eager to hear more. He had heard of this strange isle. None but the dead may visit there, so the singers said. "Go on."

"Mermaids live there." Y/n turned and looked out the window. There was a full moon out, its light hidden by smoke. "When the moon is full, they swim out of their caves and sing. Sometimes, if the wind is still, you might even hear them. They are wild and wilful, blessing whom they wish and hindering whom they wish. It is who they are—generous and cruel, like the seas they call home.”

The words came to her easily. “Once, long before the building of the Wall and the Long Night, a young fisherman got lost at sea. His boat was caught in a terrible storm and blown off course. He did not know where he was. Clouds hid the stars. He was stranded, certain of his doom. And that was when he heard her. Her song was one of old magic. It had no words, none of which he recognized. That melody grew louder and louder as she swam closer and closer to the boat."

Y/n paused to gather her breath. Jacelyn placed his hand over hers, gave it a gentle squeeze, and whispered, "Go on."

She flushed again but continued. "He was struck dumb when the cause for such beautiful singing became clear. I am hungry, the Mermaid said, and in his own tongue. Pray do you have anything to eat?

“He did have something. Just this wet loaf of bread and salt fish, he cried. It was all he had, but he gave it to her anyway. He sat and watched while she ate and had her fill, thinking she would swim away and leave him to his fate."

"She did not?" Jacelyn asked hopefully.

"She did not," Y/n replied and smiled. "She called her sisters to her, and they pulled his boat to Lonely Light. They let him stay with them until the weather cleared, fixed his boat, and sent him away after giving him enough to last the journey back home."

"And that was not all, was it?" Jacelyn smiled again. He found himself drawn in, not just by the tale, but by y/n herself.

"That was not all," Y/n's smile grew. "The fisherman always took his boat to the same place he first met her, and she would always come to him. He told no one of her or how he always struck good fortune with his nets. He spoke to none of their trysts. She soon gave him a child, a son. That child could not live with her. He was part mortal. His father kept him and brought him out every day to visit with his mother. My mother says that boy was the father of our House. She said, there is still a touch of that Mermaid's blood in us."

Jacelyn sighed in relief. "That is a much better tale. Thank you, my lady."

Y/n nodded, and rose to her feet. "I will leave you to your rest. Good night, Jacelyn." 

"Will I see you tomorrow night?" He called to her when she reached the door. The room already felt dreary and more than a little cold. He did not want to be alone. He did not want y/n to leave. "Perhaps you can tell me another tale?"

Y/n turned to face him. She found herself possessed by an odd but pleasant sense of anticipation. "What would you like to hear?"

"Everything," Jacelyn heard himself say. "I want to hear everything."