Robb Stark Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

ROBB STARK SMUT, LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bel, my darling, what do I need to give you in return? Hmm??? My life, my soul, the stars in the heavens, ask and you shall receive my love

"You Can Run, But You Can't Hide" - Alpha!Robb Stark x Omega!Reader

A/N: from an anon request, hope you enjoy bb! ❤️

Summary: Robb learns you've been lying about being a beta.

Word Count: 2,758 Words

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, a/b/o dynamics, p in v sex, unprotected sex, primal play, chasing, degradation kink, pussy slapping, fingering, breeding kink

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Growing up as a ward of House Stark has been, for the most part, a positive experience. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn have treated you as well as they treat their own children, or better than some, in Lady Catelyn’s case. Sansa admires your beauty and grace, while Arya admires your fiery personality.

That personality makes it all the more surprising to Lady Catelyn and Septa Mordane when you present as an omega. With Robb, Jon, and Theon all being alphas, and at the age where they wish to seek out a mate, Lady Catelyn worries for your safety. After consulting with her lord husband as well as Maester Luwin, a plan is formed to hide your omega status. You’re given herbs to suppress your scent, to disguise you as a beta. You don’t go into heat, thanks to the herbs, an added bonus of this little plan.

Robb is entirely dejected at your presenting as a beta. Society dictates that as the heir to a noble house, he is to marry an omega, giving him the best chance for furthering the Stark line. Robb has loved you since he was a boy, dreamed of marrying you, making you his mate, the mother of his children. You, with your sharp wit, your laugh, your beautiful smile. But now it can never be, and the thought frustrates him. Every time he goes into a rut, despite your status as a beta, it’s your face he imagines, your body beneath his as he takes what he’s wanted for so long as he fucks his own hand, desperate for release.

For your part? You adore Robb, but you fear what being bonded to an alpha would entail. The idea of submitting like that is entirely unappealing. And so you’re quite happy pretending to be a beta for the rest of your days. Perhaps you’ll even find a kind beta to be your husband, you muse, be the lady of a minor house and live out your days not in love but content.

Things go on this way until soon after Robb becomes King in the North, after the death of his lord father. He comes to you for comfort one day, seeking out his dearest friend, burying his face in your lap as he sobs, mourning his beloved father. You run your hands through his curls, murmuring that everything is going to be okay, that he will defeat Joffrey and get justice for what was done to his father. Robb is surprised at how easily he’s calmed by your voice, how gentle your touch is.

That’s when his suspicions begin.

He notices the special tea Maester Luwin has sent to your chambers every evening. However, one day? He overhears his mother speaking to the maester, both of them in a panic, stating that the ingredients for the brew haven’t come in with today’s supplies from the market.

That’s when your first heat comes.

Robb is surprised when you don’t come to the main hall to break your fast with everyone, questioning his mother if everything is alright. Lady Catelyn gives him a tight-lipped smile, stating that you are feeling unwell. Robb suggests that he should take your food to your chambers and is surprised at how vehemently his mother says no to him, that she’ll take it herself.

Robb remains in the shadows, following his mother to your chambers. And that’s when your scent hits him. An omega’s scent. Not just an omega, an omega in heat. Robb balls his hands into fists when he realizes the deception, hearing you speak to his mother in your soft voice that he so loves, asking how long this pain will last. Lady Catelyn explains that with you having been on suppressants since you were four and ten, this heat will be very difficult for you, that she will pray to the Seven to make it pass more quickly.

His heart breaks for you but at the same time, he feels entirely betrayed. How could you lie to him about your presentation? All he’s ever done is be completely honest with you, a loyal and true friend. And he thought you were the same for him.

Well, not completely honest, he supposes. He never did tell you how deep his feelings for you run. How much he craves you, how much he needs you.

When his mother leaves, he finds his way into your chambers, moving to sit beside your bed. You’re asleep, moaning in pain, feverish as you toss and turn against your sheets. It takes every bit of self restraint he has within him not to take you then and there. He rests a hand on your face, knowing an alpha’s company is the only thing that can soothe you right now, running a hand through your hair. You slowly begin to calm down, no longer thrashing about on the bed, rather, relaxing into his touch. He traces your cheekbones with his thumb, your nose, and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. Robb chuckles as your nose twitches in your sleep, disturbed ever so slightly by his touch.

“Sleep, sweet omega,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “When you wake, we have much to talk about.”

When you wake, several hours later, you’re shocked to see Robb, asleep in a chair at your bedside, his hand holding onto yours. You gasp and pull your hand away, realizing he has learned the truth of your presentation. His presence is intoxicating, you realize, his scent as an alpha drawing you in, making you want nothing more than to give yourself to him. The thought terrifies you. Gods, you’ve never wanted Robb so badly as you do in that moment. 

In your haste to get away from him, you don’t even take your robe, running out of your chambers in your nightdress and slippers, unable to bear the thought of arguing with him, your dear friend. You run out into the woods just beyond the gates, without a thought as to what danger could lurk there.

Robb wakes minutes after you’ve gone, eyes going wide when he hears your distant footsteps as you sprint away. He lets out a low groan of frustration and begins running after you.

You weave your way through the tall trees, the cloak of night surrounding you. Your breath comes out in short pants as you continue running, unsure of your destination but knowing you need to get as far from the castle as possible. As far from Robb as possible.

You don’t hear it at first, the crunching of snow underneath paws, the low snarl that threatens to rip from the wolf’s throat as it approaches you.

When you turn and see it, leaning back on its haunches, salivating at the mouth, readying to lunge at you, you freeze. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, ready to accept your impending death. You make your peace with it.

Then, you’re surprised when Robb steps in front of you. Standing between you and the wolf, pushing you behind him. You’d always heard rumors of the Starks having a strange bond with wolves, and now, you see it, as Robb faces the wolf head on, his blue eyes locking with the wolf’s yellow. And the wolf, almost as though it were a domesticated dog, turns and leaves without another sound. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and turn to Robb.

When Robb faces you, you realize that he isn’t particularly pleased with you at the moment, his mouth set in a straight line as he speaks, “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”

You open your mouth to speak, but words elude you. Robb stares at you expectantly, his arms crossed, those Tully blue eyes boring into your own. You clear your throat and speak.

“I was in heat and needed to get away from you, so I ran-”

“Into the fucking forest?” Robb scoffs angrily, tugging at his curls in frustration, his jaw clenched, “Seven fucking hells, I thought you were smarter than this! You could’ve died. Do you realize that? Not only did you run out here in nothing but your nightgown, you came out here alone, unprotected! It’s not only animals you need to worry about! You’re an unclaimed omega! What if some alpha had been here and found you? I can’t believe you’d be so foolish-”

“Stop calling me foolish!” you glare up at him, “I’m not some defenseless little girl who needs you to come to my rescue!”

Robb narrows his eyes at you in annoyance, “Oh? You’re not? So if an alpha hunted you through these woods, you’d be able to evade him? An omega in heat? Maybe on a normal day, yes, you’re quite fast, after all, but in heat? No.”

“I most certainly would!” you insist, your stubbornness getting the better of you as you argue with the Young Wolf, “I bet you anything that I could evade you!”

Robb’s eyes sparkle under the moonlight at your words, his lips curling into a small smile, “Anything?”

You give an emphatic nod, “Yes.”

“Then let’s wager this - if you manage to evade me, I’ll ignore I ever found out you were an omega, let you go back to pretending to be a beta.”

You look at him for a long moment before responding, “And if you win?”

“You let me claim you as my mate. You become my queen.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been as shocked in your entire life as you are right now. The two of you gaze at each other and again, his presence nearly overwhelms you with the state you’re in, thoughts of your heat having escaped you when faced with your life or death ordeal. After a moment of deliberation, you nod in agreement.

“Good. Now run, little omega.”

Robb gives you a minute’s head start and you sprint off deeper into the woods. The more rational part of you knows that you want to be Robb’s omega, his queen. But the stronger, more stubborn part of you doesn’t want some stupid alpha ordering you about and wants to continue being seen as a beta, even if it means giving up on being with the man you love.

You run as fast as your feet can carry you, hearing the snow crunching beneath Robb’s boots as he gives chase. And, as much as you hate to admit it, there’s something very enticing about this whole thing. About being hunted down by Robb.

“You can run, little omega,” you hear him taunt, “But you can’t hide. Not from me.”

His words send a chill up and down your spine, though it isn’t one of fear. Rather it’s one of excitement, of anticipation. You continue running, faster and faster until you reach a clearing. You gasp, realizing that you have nowhere left to hide. And soon enough, you feel Robb’s presence looming behind you.

He presses himself up against your back, murmuring in your ear, “Found you.”

You turn around and glare up at him, “I won’t submit to you.”

Robb gives you an amused smile, “I didn’t expect you would.”

“And if you ever try to command me-”

“Love, the only place where I’d presume to give you any orders is in the bedchamber.”

The tension between the two of you is palpable as you stare into each other’s eyes. His face is so close to yours that if you move even slightly, you’d be kissing him. Robb is the one who closes the distance, his lips crashing down onto yours, slightly chapped from the winter air. He wraps his arms around you, one hand tugging at your hair while the other squeezes the flesh of your ass. It’s no chaste first kiss, it’s something desperate and primal, the culmination of years of yearning and pining. Robb moves to lay down above you on the forest floor, shedding his own clothes, revealing himself to you.

Your eyes travel along his broad chest, his toned stomach, all the way to his cock, the tip of which is already weeping. And all at once, the feeling of your heat comes back to you, your adrenaline rush gone, and all you can think of is giving yourself to the alpha before you. He stares down at you, gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger, smirking slightly.

“With how much slick is pouring from you,” he murmurs, “One would mistake you for a common whore. Is that what you are, little omega?”

You shouldn’t enjoy his words as much as you are, but all you do is let out a quiet whimper as he removes your nightdress, tossing it aside with his clothes. He kisses you, a bit gentler than before, but with just as much hunger, as you feel him push two of his fingers inside you. You gasp against him, your hips bucking up against his hand as he continues to move his fingers in and out of you, finally giving you the relief you so desperately wish for. He continues kissing you all the while, the heel of his palm rubbing against your pearl with every movement of his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Preparing you to take my knot, little omega,” he murmurs, “Such a tight little cunt, and all mine, isn’t it?”

You nod, moaning slightly, yelping when you feel him slap you between your legs. Your eyes go wide and your lips part as you stare up at him.

“Say it’s mine,” he demands before giving you another smack against your cunt, this time right on your pearl.

You whimper pathetically and cry out, “Yes, my cunt is yours, my body is yours, just take me!”

Robb chuckles darkly, returning to his task and working his fingers inside you over and over, pushing you over the edge as you squeeze around him, your slick drenching his fingers. Robb brings his fingers to his lips, tasting you, never taking his eyes off you as he does. You watch in awe as he speaks.

“Next time I’ll taste you myself. But I need you right now, and I think my wanton little slut wants to take my knot now.”

You let out a strangled gasp as he runs his cock along your center, grinning to himself, “Robb, please… Alpha…”

He pauses for a moment, looking you in the eyes, “Tell me if you want this.”

You nod, moving a hand to thread in his curls as you meet his eyes, “I need you, alpha.”

And he pushes inside you, letting out a throaty growl. His cock fills you so perfectly as he sheathes himself deep inside you, staying there for a moment. Robb lets out a low groan as he feels you squeezing around him, impossibly tight. And gods, it feels like the two of you were meant for this. He begins moving against you, reveling in every moan you let out, every mewl of his name, every whisper of “please, alpha”. His his snap against you as he ruts against you, your mind finally feeling clear after the fog your heat put it in. You gaze at each other as he thrusts into you over and over, his cock filling you to the brim.

You’re surprised when Robb lifts your legs over his shoulders, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you practically squeal his name.

“That’s right, scream my name. Scream for your alpha. Let everyone know you’re mine now,” he grunts, “Going to fill you with my seed. Watch you grow round with my pups, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

You nod, whispering breathlessly, “Yes, alpha, please!”

His thumb moves to your pearl, rubbing it slightly, pushing you over the edge once again, white hot pleasure washing over you as you squeeze around him, triggering his own peak, spilling his seed deep inside you. He knots you, the two of your bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t want to be some submissive omega,” you say to him quietly.

“I’d never ask you to be,” Robb murmurs, brushing his lips against yours, “I want you. Omega or not.”

You smile up at him sheepishly, “Sorry about lying about it all this time.”

Robb brushes his nose against yours before kissing you again, “I love you.”

“And I you.”

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

Chapter 3: And So, It Begins

Previous Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but feel free to comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! There are some phrases written in Mandarin and some are in Romanization, but the translations are at the bottom of the post, along with pinyin for pronunciation. Ship terms and language is written by someone who has never been on a medieval ship in a storm. Also a surprise character is introduced into the story!

Also, I am so sorry for how long this story took to be updated. Finals and internships have been busting my butt for the past 2 months. But hopefully I'll be more consistent with my updates. I really appreciate everyone who has been following with this story, and I am especially grateful for my beta writer @valeskafics for her very helpful comments and her tips! Please check out her works, she's an insanely brilliant writer!

Warning(s): sexual content, past trauma & abuse, violence and violent themes, depression, symptoms of PTSD & survivor's guilt, asshole bosses, mention of offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), references to abusers, and dark/yandere attitudes.

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

“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’s POV:

For Robb to say that the meeting with the bannermen was tedious would be an understatement. Theon was right that the meeting was mostly about sending his mother back to Winterfell in order to reunite with Bran and Rickon. His Lady Mother was more than pleased with the decision, although she tried in her best efforts to remain strong for her son, she was at her wits’ end with worry for her two youngest boys. She called for a steward to prepare the trip for her and Arya, when the atmosphere immediately became tense. It seems that his mother was unaware that she would be the only Stark returning to the North. Furthermore, the only one amongst Robb’s council uninformed of the apparent unanimous decision to send Arya to Maidenpool with Robb her Uncle Brydyen as a way to show good will, but still presenting a unified front from both the North and the Riverlands to Stannis and his men. In hearing of this decision, she demanded a moment alone with their king and princess her son and daughter, along with Lord Brydyen.

“You expect me to return to Winterfell,” gritted out his mother, “only to leave my daughter here?” Her crystalline blue eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets, her signature red strands escaped her braid, giving the illusion of fire surrounding her in the tent’s candlelight. A fire that was slowly rising with her increasing anger. “So she can meet with Stannis? And then what? Would she train to be a soldier, to fight, in King’s Landing, just after escaping? Of all the things you have expected from me to allow in you becoming King, this is your truest sign of madness from power.”

“Mother, please- “, Robb started to explain his reasoning, by which he wanted to explain that Arya practically ambushed him after his brawl tiff with Theon, and outright told him that she was going with him to Maidenpool. There was nothing to ask, no permission to grant, she was coming if it meant tailing behind him on foot for weeks in order to meet Stannis Baratheon and plan siege on King’s Landing and rescuing Sansa. She even shoved a dagger near his balls and told him that she’d cut them off if he sent her back home with their mother. She followed by pointing out that he might be better without it, considering he married the first girl it pointed at in this war. He tried his best to ignore Theon’s squawking laughter behind him as he visibly paled.

“NO! No, I won’t hear it,” Lady Catelyn shook her head furiously before pointing a finger at him like she was scolding a small child, rather than a king in war, “I have swayed by you too many times. All of which because I had been thinking of your rights as a king, and your happiness as my son. But in doing so, I have allowed you too much freedom. As a mother, it was my duty to allow you as much happiness afforded to you in this war. But in doing so, I have let you forgotten your duty to your family. No more, I could not stop you from marrying Talisa, from executing Lord Karstark, but I will not let you turn my daughter into a killer-”.

“I already am a killer!” Arya yelled over her, interrupting their mother’s fury-fueled lecture, and bringing both their mother’s and Robb’s eyes on her for the first time since the bannermen left the tent. “I already killed four men! I trained under a killer, a faceless man, I’m not leaving!” Robb was blown away by what he heard, from his youngest sister of all people. Arya turned to him, and he knew that she would not relent. “I’m going with you, I’m going to meet Stannis, and then I’m going to march into King’s Landing and get our sister back.”

This was not his little sister that snuck out of her lessons with her Setpa, the one that would always beg him or Jon to teach her how to fight, the one who would fling food at Sansa and he would send her to her room. That Arya longed for freedom, for glory, but was still green to the world and its cruelty. No, this Arya understood what it meant to take a life, felt the stopping of a man’s heart, saw the light bleed out a man’s eyes before being replaced by dull nothingness. This Arya was a killer.

“I’m the only one out of all of us who knows their way around the Red Keep. Joffery may be stupid enough to not hide, but Cersei will. And where Cersei hides, that’s where I’ll find Sansa. I’m going to make Cersei see a Stark staring down at her before I stick Needle in her head and her children.”

Gods, they turned his baby sister into a killer.

Brother stared at Sister, Tully Blue gazed into Stark Grey, Duty challenging Vengeance, each side daring the other to make a move, to take the bait, to give leeway. The world around them stopped until time finally decided to move forward. Robb looked at his mother, and then at his siter once more, and after a few minutes of extremely careful consideration, he finally relented. To which he heard his mother scream.

“NO! I forbid it!” Lady Stark shoved a finger to her eldest son’s chest, as if her mind imagined it as a blade that could pierce his armor for his insanity. She immediately grabbed Arya’s hand and to make her way out the tent to pack their things, “Come now Arya, we are leaving now. I will no longer pretend to humor your brother’s madness any longer- “

“NO!” Arya pulls her arm away from her mother and immediately stands by her brother’s side. “Look at me, look at ME!” Arya stood her ground, refusing to move away, refusing to let her mother to force her into a role that no longer fit, a role that had never fit in the first place not since she first saw Jon and Robb spar one another with wooden swords, dreaming to hold one in her hands. “I’m not a lady! I’ve never been a lady! I never wanted nor will ever BE a lady!”

Robb glanced between his mother and sister with frantic worry, unsure of where he should intervene. But it seems that his mother did that favor for him.

“Arya, I don’t want to fight with you-”, she started, her eyes filled with stubborn anger and her voice laced with absolute exhaustion. She had hoped that if she pleaded, her youngest daughter would begin to relent. Robb’s mother always seemed to underestimate her northern blood.

“I WANT to fight!” Arya interrupted, her impulsiveness continually shining over her patience. “I want to fight with you! Shout, scream, yell horrible things we both will regret!” Her voice refused to tremble as the pale grey eyes she inherited from their father shimmered with angry tears. “Because it seems only you hating me will make you see me! To HEAR me! To cause you to finally wake up from the fantasy of the fake daughter you made up in your mind over your real one that stands before you!”

For the first time since their reunion, for the first time since she could toddle, Robb saw tears brimming his chaotic sister’s eyes. Not for the first time since war broke out, he wished for his brother Jon’s company, not just only for his comfort, but also to handle Arya. Thick as thieves those two, as Arya always considered Jon to be her favorite brother, never once thinking less of him for his bastard status, or blaming his existence as proof for his father’s infidelity not like his mother, Sansa, or almost everyone did in Winterfell. No, Arya was always proud in knowing the Jon Snow was a Stark, whether he carried the name or not (another trait that he saw in you, his beloved), he was her brother.

Even Robb couldn’t claim that he never used his status as their father’s heir and first true-born son to his advantage at times, whenever he was jealous of how quickly Jon picked up hunting and fighting while he sometimes struggled, or whenever he was reminded that it was his duty as heir that he had to marry a highborn noblewoman and not you, or whenever he saw the two of you sparring together (Jon had the muscle, but you had the speed and agility) with that rare gleam in your eye that could only come from a skilled partner, or whenever he spied saw the two of you walking together in the keep’s town in comfortable silence, or whenever he saw you sitting together at meals at the far end at his mother’s insistence when Theon was making his presence known at the brothels and he heard your laughter oh, how his fists clenched in fury at the sight of your smile not directed at him. But Jon wasn’t here, and Robb wasn’t a boy in Winterfell, not anymore. Now he was the King of the North, and if he could not be king of an independent North, then he was still the Lord of Winterfell and the North’s Warden. That meant that he was head of the Starks, including his own mother should she continue to carry the name “Stark.”

“Mother,” Robb started, the two women in the tent quickly turning their gaze to him, “you are to return to Winterfell to watch over the keep and watch over Bran and Rickon. I’ll send 10 men with you in case of an ambush. The North needs the Starks to watch over her.” His mother’s eyes softened in relief, mistaking his decision as agreement.

“Thank you, my son-”, she started before being cut off.

“But you will be the only Stark returning to the North,” he stated as he saw Arya’s back straighten in shock. “Princess Arya will remain by my side to assist me in negotiating with Stannis. As I am sure that you are the last Stark he wishes to see.” He saw the eyes of his mother widen in fear and desperation.

“Robb, my son, please-”, she pleaded, “listen to reason.”

“No,” he could not risk being soft anymore, not with the North on the line, “Stannis is our only hope in surviving this war. When you came to Renly’s side, you declared the North his enemy. Now it is up to me to fix it, to beg if necessary.” He lowered his eyes to stare his mother down with as much authority his father drilled into him as a youth, “I am your son. But even if I have to give away my crown, I am still Warden of the North and Winterfell’s lord. I am YOUR lord. And as your lord, I proclaim that this decision is final.” He turned to his sister, and clasped his gloved hand on her shoulder, “Get some rest, tomorrow we must prepare. The following day, we leave at first light.”

“Yes,” Arya stared at her brother with determination and gratitude, “my king.” With that being the final word, he left the tent to make way to his own. He quickly removed his outerwear until he was only in his small clothes and didn’t bother to wash himself before collapsing on top of the furs on his cot. Fatigue washed over him as he closed his eyes and slept without any dreams.

Now resting in an inn, Maidenpool being only a few more days away, his ass still sore from the weeks of riding and rising anxiety of meeting Stannis Baratheon, the King and Lord of Dragonstone. He dared not to admit to himself of his worry in fear that his nerves will get the best of him when he finally meets Stannis Baratheon. While he may have been a southerner, born and raised, Robb had only tremendous respect for the man. Moreso, Robb was grateful to have never crossed swords with in the field.

Prince Stannis was hailed a “military genius,” his victory against the Victarion Greyjoy at the Fair Isle during the Greyjoy Rebellion was mythic, even Theon couldn’t help but be in awe whenever Maester Luwin recounted it in their lessons. Stannis, despite having no particular skillset of either sailor or admiral, was set up as Master of Ships against seasoned naval commander who fought in naval battles at the end of Robert’s Rebellion. It was the first naval battle Stannis fought in his life, entering the battle an inexperienced commander and left as the man who gave Victarion Greyjoy his most crushing defeat.

“Truly,” Robb thought, “if the North must bend the knee to another Southerner, by the Gods let it be him.” As he was resolute in his belief that only Stannis Baratheon could manage to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, and lead them into peace and prosperity. His disadvantage in his claim would be that he had no heir, only a sickly daughter who survived a case of Greyscale as a babe, and had to continue to grow with horrifying scars left from the disease on her face. From what he heard; her mother became cold and cruel to the young girl and grew mad under some god named “R'hllor.” Stannis himself converted to the same faith, even allowing a High Red Priestess referred to as “Lady Melissandre” to sit within his council. Robb couldn’t help but pity the poor girl; knowing how cold her father was - not to mention her deranged mother - hardly made for a warm upbringing. Lost in his thoughts, he did not even hear Arya come into the room and sit on the room’s other bed.

“What do think will happen when Stannis sees us?” She asks, her face completely blank as her mind races through the worst scenario. “Do you think he’ll kill us? Like he killed Renly?”

“We don’t know that to be true,” he answers back carefully, “and even if it was, it’s because Renly declared claim to the Iron Throne over him. When you think it like that, he only killed a usurper.”

“Like Joffery?”

“Aye, like Joffery.” After waiting for a few moments for her reply, Robb thought that he settled her nerves, and closed his eyes to begin to sleep. But what Arya asked next was so soft that he almost missed it, but it chilled his blood when his ears caught it.

“…Aren’t we usurpers?” She asked him. “Won’t he see us the same as Joffery?”

“Arya, we aren’t- it’s not-” Robb struggled to find the words to ease his little sister “Stannis wouldn’t-”

“Wouldn’t he?” Arya interrupted with a dead gaze and flat voice. “If he killed his own brother, what makes you think he won’t kill you?”

“Stannis wouldn’t make the same mistake Tywin Lannister made,” Robb shook his head as he tried to sound as calm and patient to fight off the migraine blooming in his head, “he’s a better man than him.”

“Like how you thought Walder Frey would just let you marry your dead wife? Or like how you thought that you wouldn’t die at a wedding.”

Robb flinched at her biting tone. When he looked to her once more, he first saw how her fists clenching the bed spread so hard he thought it would be torn. He then looked at her face, it was no longer impassive. Her mouth was pursed in anger, her eyes were mad with fury, and he saw her chest falling and rising with her nostril flaring as if she was preparing for a fight.

“Father died because he thought that a Lannister wasn’t as bad as he made her to be. Mother thought that Littlefinger was still someone worth trusting even after betraying father. And then she let go another Lannister, and then you killed Lord Karstark.”

It was hard for Robb to be forced to listen to every horrible decision that his family made that led them to this point, but he was too tired to retort back. So, he just let her continue on with her little rant. He figured that she needed to get it off of her chest.

“You, Theon, Mother, and thousands of men are alive now because of one person; Li.”

Hearing your name hurt more than the arrows to the chest, but he remained quiet as he heard the slight tremble creep through his sister’s voice.

“But Li’s gone now. She’s gone, and she can’t protect us anymore. She saved the North, the Vale, and you repaid her by marrying some pretty little healer who batted her sweet little eyes at you.”

“What does the Vale-”

“I know Mother went to King’s Landing.” This made Robb freeze.

“How the fuck-” but his couldn’t finish his thought as she pressed on.

“I found her while she was packing, she told me that she had to go. She couldn’t let you ruin everything.

“I tried telling her to not to go, that we needed her. I told her that when we get Sansa back and go back to Winterfell – that she’d be welcomed back as a hero of the North, be given a title and land– but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t listen to me. She kept talking about no one would listen to her. Then she started crying, I never ever saw Li cry – not even when Bran fell. Then she told me everything. ‘Bout how she tried to warn everyone: Father, Mother, and even you. She told father to leave, but he wouldn’t listen then either. She said that all of this was her fault, because she didn’t warn them earlier.

“She told Father, ‘Take the girls and go. Go back to Winterfell. Make up any excuse: say you’re sick, say your wife and youngest boys miss you, say that the raids increased and the lords are in need of your command. Say anything and just LEAVE. Don’t tell anyone. Not the Queen, not Varys, not Littlefinger. Not even the King. They will act the friend, smile prettily, look you in the eye and whisper comforting words. Only to stab you in the back unblinkingly with that same pleasing smile as you bleed out at their feet.’

“She even did the same with Mother. She told her that Lord Baelish couldn’t be trusted; that he was lying to her like he did at King’s Landing, but Mother wouldn’t listen. So, when he was far enough from the camp, she ambushed him with a cloth doused with Essence of Nightshade to knock him out, and made sure that she was far enough so that no one would hear killing the knights Tyrion sent him with. She then climbed a tree to tie and gag there for a few days, and left Daiyu there to make sure that he wouldn’t escape.”

This was news to Robb; he was sure he would have heard something from his Aunt Lysa at the news of her missing husband. The woman was deranged with infatuation for him. Fully awake now, he gave Arya his full attention.

“What happened next?”

“She told me that she wanted him weakened before questioning him. She wasn’t worried when he first escaped, it was only when she heard about the Ironborn attacks that she knew she had to make sure Mother wouldn’t do something stupid. If nothing but to knock her out with the nightshade long enough to move him to a secret location. But Mother was already at the cage, along with someone else. Another woman I think – Lady… Lady… Brianna of-” Arya grew perplexed at her memory failing her in a time like this.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth.” Robb remembered for her. “But wait - why would Mother worry about the Ironborn fleet? Even now they made no attempt to seize Winterfell. Plus, we still have his only son.”

“Balon Greyjoy doesn’t give a shit about Theon, only himself and power. What better way to get it than with two little Stark boys? Li noticed Mother was getting scared, making her susceptible to impulsiveness. And she was right. When she heard that Jaime Lannister was brought back, she knew that he would make another attempt, she just didn’t think she would be beaten in getting there.

Anyway, she said that couldn’t allow Her Lady to release Ser Jaime, as doing so would be an act of treason against you. Mother told her that Li had no right to interfere as she couldn’t begin to understand the pain and stress she had been since the war began. She asked Li how could an orphaned whore understand the pain she felt as a mother whose children were all scattered across Westeros. She then ordered Brienne to take her down. It was a close fight for the both of them; the Tarth woman was strong, but Li was quick. She would have won, but she was still injured from fighting the knights. It was ten against one; and while she was fighting one of them, another stabbed her back while another kicked her knee. Before long, she got overpowered and knocked out, and was carried to the healers’ tent.”

Robb couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he had wondered why you blamed yourself for the Kingslayer’s escape, and the deaths of those two Lannister boys. He only assumed that it was your empathy getting the best of you. He intended to question Theon but completely forgotten with Maidenpool as his first priority. He remembered seeing you in the tent; he was shocked at the blood and bruises that bloomed in shades of black, blue, and purple across your body. Already angered by his mother’s betrayal, he demanded to know the men in his camp who had done this so that he could swiftly punish them. You croaked out that it was spar with some of the men at the camp that went too far. When he asked you why Theon and your shadowcat weren’t at your side, you quickly responded that Theon was with him, and that Daiyu was hunting. Scolding you for being so reckless, he insisted that he carry you to your tent.

But you only swatted his hand away as you stood up from the cot while stating that you dealt worse at sea as a child. You must have noticed his temper rising, since it was only then that you lifted your eyes to meet his. And with a single look at your tempestuous gaze, he was both silenced and enraptured. Knowing you had won this battle, you walked wobbled back to your tent.

All while Robb was left standing there like an idiot; his cock already hardening at the thought of your stubborn eyes melted from bliss with each fervid thrust of his hips meeting yours in overwhelming euphoria. The only bruises on your body would be those from his lips and teeth. He didn’t even register Talisa walking up to him as he strode to his tent to quickly give release. He remembered ordering Greywind to stand guard as he closed his eyes and let his imagination run rampant. He thought of punishing you for your impertinence, forcing you to kneel between his legs. He would have ordered you to take out his hardened member as he scolds you for making him so hard in public. He would have ordered you to lightly lick his tip, before carefully taking his thick head into your mouth. He audibly groaned at the thought of your unrelenting gaze being broken as he pushed your head to fully take him. He could see slightly wincing as you gagged at the struggle of taking his length and girth. And when he released his load, your eyes widened in shock at the volume of his cum, knowing it was all for you. He remembered imagining you to swallow it all, and that there would be consequences if you spilled anything. After swallowing his load, you opened your mouth to show nothing was left. He praised you for being such a good girl for him, and he remembered finally spilling into his hand at the thought of you smiling warmly at his praise.

All for his momentary peace to be interrupted by the sound of Greywind’s warning, and for Lord Karstark’s squire to inform Robb that his presence was demanded at the Kingslayer’s cage. Knowing it wouldn’t be good, Robb quickly rid of any evidence of his release and tucked in his flaccid cock into his breeches before making way to the cages that held any enemy prisoners. Only to discover that the Kingslayer had been released by the aid of his mother in attempt to exchange him for Sansa and Arya. That was the morning everything went to hell.

“What happened next?” He was almost terrified to know the answer.

“She told me then that she decided enough was enough. That night, she called Daiyu to let their prisoner down. When she saw him asleep, she stomped on his balls. She said that as a youth, she caught the eye of a certain One-Eyed Crow. He would teach her many things, one of them was how to make men talk. But he was stubborn, even in his current position. Every time he demanded to be released, Daiyu snarled. Every time he mentioned his position as an emissary of King Joffery, Li punched his gut. Every time he called himself Lord of the Vale, she put a hand to his mouth before stabbing his arm. It didn’t take long for him to temper him.”

Robb paled and grew a little green at Arya’s impassioned retelling of Lord Baelish’s “interrogation.” What unnerved him even more was the slight admiration in her eyes toward your actions. Although it shouldn’t have surprised him, Arya had always worshipped the ground you walked on. Next to Jon and Father, you were probably her most favorite person in the world.

While you had a special bond with all of the Stark children, you held the two girls close to your heart. Sansa adored you, as you saw more to her than a pretty face and delicate stitching; reminding her that it was her kind soul and generous heart that you loved the most. Although, Sansa always beamed whenever you asked for her input on stitching and clothes. She stating that it comforted her that she was better than you in at SOMETHING.

Meanwhile, whenever Arya wasn’t sneaking off her lessons to join her brothers, it was to find you. You fascinated her, always begging you to tell her stories of the life you lived before Winterfell. Whenever she was in trouble with Mother, you would tell her that she had a spark within her that was growing rarer in the world around them, and that you hoped it never went out. You would even teach her a few words from the many languages you spoke, telling her that everyone should be fluent in one other language than their Common Tongue.

“She told him that he betrayed our father. He denied it of course, even reminded her of how she witnessed him offering his aid with the dagger. That got him a broken knee. She already knew that Tyrion would never bet against his brother Jaime, Ros told her that they acted close. And that Jaime Lannister had already revealed that it was King Robert that won the dagger from him. King Robert would never make an assassination attempt against Ned’s family, but he was stupid enough to leave it lying around the keep. Making it more than easy for him to get it back.”

Robb was completely dumbfounded, his mind racing as he tried to piece together every new piece of information.

“Wait – so that means-”

“Littlefinger sent the assassin to kill Bran, not the Lannister’s.” Arya started with a somber nod. “The Kingslayer pushed him off the tower, and Bran did almost die. But no one knew that his legs worked. Who’d believe that he’d survive a fall like that?”

“Another advisement from you to Father,” thought Robb, “you really were too smart for your own damn good.”

“She told me how scared he got. How he started to get nervous and stutter. He tried telling her how he tried help Father by telling him to bend the knee to Joffery, saying that he would still remain Hand and run the kingdom in peace with our family safe. But all that earned him was her removing a finger. Li told him that he must have known that Father would never bend the knee to a bastard born of incest and that she cared little for more of his excuses and that he needed to shut up. All she wanted to know, was how he managed to kill Lord Jon Arryn.”

If Robb wasn’t in shock before, he certainly was now.

“She told him how strange she thought it was that she never responded to any of the ravens you and Mother sent to her. Why wouldn’t she send aid to her sister and nephew? After all, they’re fighting against the same people who murdered her husband. She said that while she never personally met Lady Arryn, she remembered Mother talking about how her sister claims that family means everything to her. Meaning that-”

“It wasn’t the Lannister’s that killed Jon Arryn” finished Robb; horror filling him as he realizes that his father, this war, the feud between Lannister and Stark, were all pulled at the strings maneuvered by someone who his mother treasured as a friend. Arya nodded with sober eyes, telling him that her reaction was like his in realizing the truth.

“Li told him that she noticed how similar brothel was that of the brothels in Lys, from the silken textiles to the Lysene women that served as pleasure slaves; even the way he ordered them was identical to that of a brothel’s master. He must have spent a lot of time at Lys to be familiar with their language and mannerisms.”

“Arya, what does any of this have to do with Jon Arryn’s death?” Robb snapped as he was growing impatient, “Southern nobles travel there all the time, not exactly strange behavior.”

“That’s what I said to Li, but do you know what she told me?” Arya smiled as she recounted what you told her next, “She said, ‘Why did Littlefinger survive this long? It wasn’t because he was strong, or rich, or even because he had friends. It’s because he watches everything, he takes in everything. Nothing was unimportant, everything had the potential to serve him in some way. I wanted him to know that no matter how smart he thought he was, I was better.’ She said that isolating and starving him were to just weaken his body, torturing him was to weaken his mind. But to break him, she needed to beat him in his own game, knowledge.”

The silence that followed was deafening to Robb. The only thing he could hear was the increased fervor of his heart pounding against his chest. He waited for his sister to continue, to hear the mastery of your inquisitiveness, to maybe gain your insight. Maybe he will finally begin to see a glimpse of the demonic ingenuity that hid behind your solid gaze; maybe, just maybe, in hearing this from someone else, he would understand you, if only just a little bit more.

But Arya didn’t say anything…her face was blank as the soft hacked tendrils of her hair covered her eyes.

“What next?” Robb whispered, his voice desperately pleading for more.

“…”

“Arya,” he pleaded once more; his voice growing more distraught with each passing second, “please tell me. What else did she say?” He could see his sister’s lips moving, but her voice was so quiet that he had to strain his ears to hear her next words.

“…That was it…,” she conceded, “she said that she had to go, that she stayed for too long already.” Arya kicked off her boots before bringing her knees to her chest, clutching them with her spindly arms. Her face remained blank, but Robb swore he heard her voice cracking.

“That can’t be it…” Robb protested in disbelief. “Arya there had to have been more. Tell me there’s more!” Robb was no longer lying on his bed. Now he stood over his sister, towering her small frame the same as their father once had when he scolded them as children. His voice growing more inflamed in misery. His anger erupted when Arya remained in her silence by lowering her head to her knee tops. If he paid attention, he would have noticed the slight quiver of her bottom lip.

“Arya!” He bellowed, guilt flooding his body as he saw the slight flinch of his baby sister’s body, but he was too blinded in his anger to care about anything other than you in that moment. “Arya, Gods help me if you don’t tell me-”

“I’m not lying!” She wailed; her face finally free of her impassive façade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her pale eyes were beginning to grow red and puffy, and her face grew pink and splotchy. “I begged her to tell me, but she wouldn’t! I asked her why she didn’t tell all of this to you, to Mother, or even Theon!”

Her chest was heaving with every sharp intake of breath, her entire body was shaking uncontrollably with every gasp. After everything that happened: from Bran falling to Robb almost dying; it took you leaving without the promise of returning that caused the weary dam to be demolished by the overdue flood of her grief and sorrow.

“I tried to make her! But she wouldn’t tell me! All she did was look at me! Looking at me with that stupid smile!” With her flood of sorrow, came the rage that followed; as she roared out her final moments with you before your departure, “The one she makes when she’s in trouble, or scared, or hurt; but she never lets anyone know about it! She just hides it! Hoping it’ll go away and everything will be fine and we’ll be none the wiser! But I knew something was wrong! I knew that she did something important, and I tried to make her tell me!”

She paused to wipe the little dribble of snot running down her nose with her sleeve as little hiccups escaped as a result from her crying.

“But all she did was give me a stupid hug! It was so tight and warm a-a-an-and- it smelled like her and-,” she paused once more to catch her breath, only to begin crying again as she wailed out her next words, “and she said she was sorry ‘cause I needed to stay strong for just a little longer, but everything would be alright! She told me she loved me and kissed my head! And then she grabbed her travel pack, called her shadowcat, and then she LEFT!” She stopped to wipe her tears with her sleeves while also hiding her face from her brother.

Robb could no longer be angry. He couldn’t even pretend to be strong anymore. He collapsed on his bed, its loud creak accompanying Arya’s loud sniffles. It was only when the candle was beginning to flicker out that he noticed enough time passed for Arya to steady her breathing. He let out a weary sigh, before whispering out the question that plagued his mind since Arya began to speak.

“Why didn’t she tell me this from the start?” He croaked out. “Did she think I wouldn’t believe her, or that I wouldn’t trust her? I- I just- I don’t understand-”

“It wasn’t that she couldn’t trust you,” she breathed out, “it was that she couldn’t trust herself.” Seeing how this only muddled her brother even further, she pressed on, “She did say one more thing about Littlefinger though-that she and him…they were alike, just a bit.”

“What? How could they possibly be remotely alike?” Robb questioned, completely baffled by the thought of comparing you to that traitor.

“Before she killed him, he told her that there was no justice in the world. Not unless they made it. Him, the small son of a small house, knew that the only way to rise in the world, was through only himself. Came from nothing, rose to power, and she was exactly the same. He saw it when he first met her in King’s Landing. But he could tell she changed; this war changed her. Because of you, because she followed you. She said that hated his words; but what she hated more was the fact that everything he said was the truth. She became weak; no longer trusted herself to take action, because of you.”

“…Because she followed me into war?” He asked as a bitter laugh escaped his lips, not wanting to feel the guilt growing in his chest at Arya’s recount of your confession.

“Because she fell in love with you.” She stated, praying for your forgiveness for revealing your most shameful truth.

It was as if Robb’s world had crashed down all over again.

“I never knew,” were all that he could choke out.

“It’s ok,” his sister reasoned in attempt to comfort her brother, “I don’t think she knew either.”

And with that being the final word, the candle’s flame died down, and darkness cloaked the two siblings in awkward comfort. Arya laid on her side, wanting to gain at least a few hours of sleep before their continued travels. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, sleep evaded the young king. Anger and bitterness were his constant companions since your departure, he reasoned them with you breaking both his heart and his trust.

Only for shame and self-loathing to overflow within him in learning that he had done the same to you for much longer.

“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.”

龙力 (Lóng lì) POV:

It’s been several weeks since the ship provided by House Mallister had departed from the port of Seagard, but there had been no peace for me to grieve.

“’OY Boy! Get a move on! She’s starting to blow!” “Who is-” “The WIND! Can’t you smell?” “Ser, I-” “THAT’S CAPTAIN TO YOU!”

“哦，仁慈的观音 (oh, merciful Guan Yin),” I thought pleadingly, “我求你饶了我这种折磨.” I should have known better than to hope that Lord Mallister would provide me a ship handled by a proper crew. I leaned back to bear witness at the horror unfolding before my eyes. Tried as I might, I could not hide the grimace etched on my mouth as bitter disappointment roared in my expression.

黛玉 (Dài yù) was faring no better, as the bored expression in her gaze was any indication. She, like me, was not impressed by the pathetic display before her.

I doubt that more than half these “men” had ever been on a ship for longer than a few hours to catch a meal, let alone to make a journey with no promise of definite return.

“WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY!” The “captain” shouted, his spit flying through the air, and landing on the poor deckhand he was currently torturing.

My grimace morphed to a scowl; this man was no ship “captain,” he was not even a man meant for the sea. Even before stolen from my home and family, I lived on market near the port. Hundreds of ships would dock at the port, and thousands of men would flock at the market.

Some were handsome and rich; some were ugly and poor.

Maybe they were heroes returning home; maybe they were cowards running from one.

If one’s face was green to the breeze, then another’s soul was battered from the storms.

But each and every one of them had a look in their eye: a look a resolution to witness the sea and all of her horrible glory, let them live or die if she wanted.

As a little girl who dared not dream of a life outside her family, these men fascinated me.

This man disgusted me. His voice boomed with slurred speech, and his face glowed red and his breath smelled putrid from all the ale he ingested. His beard was bushy and untrimmed, flecks of rotting meat made permanent residence there. When he wasn’t sitting on his ominously large ass, his rotund gut sloshed with every step he took to yell at someone else. I’ve seen and met many men who voyaged the sea like him, but he was no sea man. There was no resolution in his eyes, only greed and arrogance. Lord Mallister could not have sent me on a more terrible ship with a worse crew. I wished more than ever to be by my brother’s side.

Ironborn…Mainland… one fact remained: the sea roared within him. Salt ran through his veins, while the wind called his spirit. A kracken, a wolf, it never mattered in the end.

Theon Greyjoy was a man who would have thrived at sea. It called to him, as it did to me. He was the very image of the pirates I made up to tell to Lady Arya and Lady Sansa when they still very small. From the rakish glint in his eyes, to that boyish smirk he flashed to any pretty girl who glanced his way– even the way he spoke just screamed arrogance.

But that merely a mask – a façade to hide his hurt, his insecurities, every vulnerability from the world who decided his place in it since he had no say in that matter.

They saw neither his kindness, nor his empathy. They would not believe the truly caring young man that hid behind years of carefully manufactured egotism.

They didn’t see the boy that would carry his late lord’s eldest daughter after she fell and scraped her knee; ruining her stockings and dress with blood and muddy snow. They never saw how he would gather her in his arms, and whisper words of promises how she was still the prettiest girl in all of the Seven Kingdoms. They failed to see the slight blush on her cheeks that came whenever she saw him alone at the archery range in her family’s keep.

They turned their sights away when he would find an abandoned hawk chick on a morning ride, and raced back to his room to nurture it back to health. They refused to bear witness the determination in his eyes to aid a creature into living rather than to accept pathetic comfort in death. They never saw the sickly little chick grow into the swiftest predator to every fly through the Northern skies.

They didn’t see a young boy flush in shame in learning the meaning to a slur he called a foreign former sex slave. They never saw the change in his behavior when the child awoken, immediately begging for forgiveness. They were blind to the beginning of a family, built on a foundation of both mutual respect and acceptance.

Furthermore, they refused to acknowledge that an ignorant boy could grow into a confident and capable man; if they are given the time and care they are deserved from the beginning.

I was hit by a wave of sorrow in remembering him. Gods, how I missed him.

“I’m so sorry Ser-CAPTAIN! I-I just-um-I just thought-” the unfortunate deckhand sputtered out. His face growing more flustered as he continued to try to sort out his words. He looked not a day past his twelfth name day. He was only a bit older than Bran.

The sight was so pitiful it almost made me want to help…almost. But I couldn’t afford to draw more attention to myself…no matter how much the boy reminded me of Bran.

Gods above, it’s been so long. Did he grow? Was he taller than me? And what of Rickon? Have they been paying attention in their lessons? Have they been eating their greens? They had better not have fed them to Summer and Shaggydog. Were they good to Maester Luwin?

By the Seven, has Maester Luwin been neglectful in taking his medicine since I’ve been gone? Is he still making sure to get proper rest in acting as advising hand while Bran is the Acting Lord of Winterfell? Has he been overworking himself?

…Has Jon been informed since he trekked to Castle Black to take his vows?

My mind began to spiral, and with it so did my heart begin to race. Bran, Rickon, Jon, Maester Luwin…would I ever see them again? Had they been informed of the Frey’s betrayal and the Lannister’s mutiny? Do they know of the deal I needed to take? ... Had they thought I betrayed them?

“别再折磨自己了,” I angrily berated at no one but myself, “你不是这里的受害者."

I needed to snap out of my misery. I made a deal, and I would see it to the end. If never returning was the price to way for the benefit of House Stark, then it was a price more than fair to me. Wallowing in defeatism would do me no good, my childhood was a testament to that truth.

It would not win the war.

It would not bring back my late Lord, Lord Eddard Stark.

And it would not revive Queen Talisa Stark nee Maegyr, and that of her and Robb’s child who bled out on the cold tile floor of the Frey’s Keep as a result of my incompetence.

Thankfully, the bulging pimple of the man opened his mouth, and thus my spiral of self-pity soon distorted to righteous fury.

“SPARE ME THE BLUBBERING AND STARTING CLEANING DAMN IT!” The foul captain turned his foot, and strode back to his quarters. He walked as if he was only doing his job, but I could see his face. The moment he turned; his rotten scowl turned to a repulsive grin that showed his rotten yellow teeth.

Oh, I despised this man. My fingers inched toward for my knifes, and my soul was calling out for his blood. And how I longed to fulfill its wish. 黛玉 (Dài yù) could sense my agitation, and in response her tail started to twitch, indicating her aggression. If she decided to attack, I do not think I would have it in me to stop her.

A gust of wind broke me from my blood lusted trance as a chill ran down my spine. Quickly I turn to face the ocean, gripping the railing as I stare at the horizon. The breeze continued to whip my hair, tangling my raven locks with her invisible grazes; I could tell something was wrong. When the wind blew stronger, I looked up at the sky, forgetting that the stars had not been seen in the night sky for days. But the sun had long set, and so far, there was still no rain so the chances of trouble was likely – a drop of water landed on the back of my hand.

Another on the top of my head.

A third landed on my cheek.

“台风,” I whispered out, fear flooding my body.

“What's that miss?”

I turned around and saw that it was the pitiful deckhand. I look at him with furrowed brows, and was about to repeat what I had just said to warn him – when I realized that I had switched to thinking in my native tongue without realization. I recompose myself in haste and grip the young boy’s shoulders to tell him.

“Typhoon,” I whisper carefully, noting how his eyes soon became wide with fear, “It’s been cloudy for days, the wind is picking up and now there is rain.” Oh gods, I could feel the wind growing. Raising my voice, I tell him, “Warn the crew, secure all the loose gear, make sure all the windows and openings are batten down and latched tight. Are you with me so far?”

He quickly nods, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Good,” I nod in attempt to reassure him before continuing, “Now-what I am going to tell you next is the most important. I want you to tell the men in charge of the masts – that’s the pole that holds the sails – see it?” I quickly point to them, making sure that his eyes follow my finger. “I want you to tell them to strike the royals first – not the mainsail – the smaller ones, got it?”

“But my lady, the-the winds-should we not-” the young man tried to question, before a powerful rumble rolled across the downpour. Followed by a horrifying crack, along with a blinding flash of light. Its shape resembling the dragon of my pendent, a Yi Ti dragon.

“HURRY!” I yell to him before running and pounded on every cabin door “All hands-on deck! TYPHOON COMING!”

The drizzle that came as a warning became a shower; and the shower soon transformed into a downpour. And the downpour went on until it was a fucking monsoon.

The men were scrambling to prepare for the worst; all of them trying to play a part that none were expecting. The damned “ship captain” was nowhere to be found. Probably tucked in poster bed, a fire roaring, sheltered away in his cabin’s warmth– ignorant to his men’s suffering – away from this madness. A truly disgusting man. I sneered under my breath, but I had no time to waste on him.

A few hours have passed, and the men had grown desperate. After the boy relayed my orders, they scoffed at the idea of grown men receiving orders from a woman whose only defense was a few blades and an irritated shadowcat. But as they realized how much danger they were in; they gradually began to accept me as the officer in command. At the very least, they saw that I was a more competent sailor than that of their captain. But in spite of our best efforts, we could not stabilize the ship to escape the storm.

We needed to get to land…fast. There was no chance of this ship, nor the people of this ship surviving if we attempt to drop anchor to ride this storm out.

“REEF THE MAINSAIL! AND ABANDON COURSE!” It was a desperate attempt, but I cannot risk to strike the mainsail. To do so would lose all forward power and abandon all control in the ship direction through the steering wheel. We’d be floating straight downward like floating corpses.

“HELMSMAN!” I called out.

“YES, MY LADY!” He dutifully responded.

“ABANDON COURSE AND POINT! WE NEED TO GET TO LAND AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE!” I directed as clearly as I could in my state. Fatigue would soon get the best of me, but I could not lose my concentration.

“AYE’ MY LADY!” He replied, to which he relayed his message to the men controlling the mast. “REEF THE MAINSAIL!”

A series of “AYE’s” rang through my ears. If I was not so terrified of our current placement, they’re unified front in receiving my order would have brought a great sense of pride to me.

Almost an hour had passed, and the waves were getting less turbulent.

There…LAND! We were saved!

When the navigator spotted the stretch of grey, the ship’s men practically cried in relief. I almost did the same…but something still felt off. It was too early for celebration.

Why did those spots of rocks and sand unsettle me? Twenty lives were saved, we managed to ride out the storm, the Gods had not claimed anyone tonight…so why can’t I feel myself relax?

We were getting closer to the shore; the rocks were becoming larger…my heart was racing.

What am I feeling? It’s as if…my body was warning me about something…something my mind is failing to remember.

The body…the mind…my body…my mind…

It’s one thing if both your mind and body fail to recall something…but for the body to remember what the mind had forgotten…oh Gods, where am I?

I could feel my body growing stiff, but my hands were trembling? Why? What am I forgetting? What is it about this place that is bringing these…reactions? I felt a hand on my shoulder, I took out one of my daggers to find…the young deckhand?

“My lady!” His smile was so wide, his shoulders were sagging in relief, he felt…safe, “WE made it to land! We survived the storm!”

I felt a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding to escape, trying to convince myself to relax.

“Yes,” I smiled, “thank you for relaying my instructions. You were a tremendous help.”

“Oh no, my lady! It was because of your orders that we survived another day! And not a single man was lost!”

His smile was so genuine and sweet…he really did remind me of Bran. I felt myself calm down a bit.

“Even so, I am grateful that you trusted in me. The part you played in our survival should not be ignored. You have my thanks…um…” I tried to recall his name. If I was to thank this brave young man, then I want to do it properly.

“OH! Yes! I never gave my name!”

…Why was the air growing colder? Was it getting darker?

“My name is Eoghan Wright my-”

Blood spattered across my face as his head was bashed in with a club.

Blood…red…iron…oh Gods…are we-

Screams of pain filled my ears, 黛玉 (Dài yù) leapt in front of me. I felt nauseous, I wanted to keel over and never stand again.

I looked behind me…and saw the sight of a massive sigil on a sail.

…Black…gold…Kracken…iron

I knew that smell…HE reeked of it – I would have choked to death on the smell alone when I was with him if I hadn’t felt so dead so young.

A memory is coming to me…from my brother…Theon.

“The ground so full of metal that nothing grows there,” he once told me, “All that iron ore in the ground poisoned it I suppose.”

Iron ore…the Iron Islands…I doomed us all.

A terrifying grin with putrid breath was all I sensed from the world before a cloth was pressed against my face…and my world went dark.

Meanwhile in King’s Landing:

A lone figure stood before a window, facing one of the finest views of the Red Keep. Her figure eluding the serenity of a worldly temptress. Her face and frame emitting only lust and peace, that only meant she was a talented actress. A few weeks ago, she had sent out a piece of a puzzle that would either aid her dearest friend’s latest conspiracy, or send both the Lannister’s and the Eyrie for her head.

Littlefinger’s death caused an uproar within the Red Keep. That…along with the failure of the Red Wedding…the Gods couldn’t save the Stark girl from King Joffery’s wrath.

Never before had she wanted to wring a man by his balls more than that of Robb Stark, Young Wolf and King of the North.

King or not, only the most stupid of boys would lead thousands of men to their death for the company of a plucky foreign chit with a passable smile and round ass.

She prayed that a more worthy suitor caught your eye.

…Maybe she could find a way for you to meet that young Payne squire…at least he’d be a considerably better match in terms of loyalty for someone as preciously deadly as you.

…Not to mention he was surprisingly well-endowed.

She recalled the time you and your brother caught her on the turnip cart for her escape to King’s Landing. Following her everywhere whenever you came to the village town. You would always be more duckling than dragon in her eyes.

“Will I ever see you again?” You looked so heartbroken asking her this question. It broke her own heart to see such round eyes being filled with tears from worry and fear.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” you pleaded. A cruel request from someone such as yourself. You would bleed yourself dry to feed every starving child you came across.

“I love you-”

“My dear Ros,” spoke a bald figure with a slight Lysian accent as he entered the room, “How do you fare on this fine day?”

Banishing her troubled thoughts, she lightly curled the ends of her lips to give one of her famous smiles. As she turned, the sun’s rays danced across her flowing red hair, giving the imagery of a glorious flame. The fine silks from Lys hugged her figure magnificently. She was the very image of temptation.

“Fear not Lord Varys.” She told in a calm tone, giving none of her worried away. “I am well as always.”

“Stay strong little duck,” she pleaded to you, wherever you may be. “You pleaded for my safety, now it is time for me to plead for your’s.”

Translations:

“哦，仁慈的观音...我求你饶了我这种折磨” (Ó, réncí de guānyīn……wǒ qiú nǐ ráole wǒ zhè zhǒng zhémó): Oh merciful Guanyin…I beg you to spare me this torture.

龙力 (Lóng lì): Dragon Strength

黛玉 (Dài yù): Black Jade

“别再折磨自己了...你不是这里的受害者" (Bié zài zhémó zìjǐle... Nǐ bùshì zhèlǐ de shòuhài zhě) : Stop torturing yourself ... you are not the victim here."

台风 (Táifēng): Typhoon

Taglist: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @its-actually-minicika, @arcielee, @axelsagewrites

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Forgive me daddy Father, for I have sinned

BELLLLLLLL

I WAS STARVED OF DARK ROBB STARK AND THEN YOU BLESS US WITH THIS GIFT

🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

"Say Your Prayers" - Priest!Robb Stark x Nun!Reader

Summary: Father Robb Stark desires you, the new nun at his church.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, religion kink, priest kink, hierophilia, fingering, semi public sex, blasphemy, breeding kink if you squint, p in v sex

Word Count: 850 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Robb Stark is a good, honest, God-fearing man. His family prizes honor above all else and he was raised to respect that. He was raised so devout that he, surprisingly, gave up his share of the family company and chose to become a priest, entering seminary school as soon as he was able, rising in the ranks quickly, and soon enough? He had a parish of his own. Everything was going perfectly for him. That is, until he met you.

A sweet little nun, innocent and kind, with wide eyes and a gentle voice. The first time he met you and shook your hand, he was immediately twisted by unholy thoughts, thinking to himself how soft your hands are, how smooth, how much better it would feel if they were the ones tugging on his cock late at night rather than his own.

You quickly became the subject of his most sordid fantasies - bending you over the altar of worship, fucking you in the confessional booth until you screamed his name. Every single thing you did drove him wild with desire. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way you filled out that nun’s dress so perfectly, the slightest bit of hair that managed to fall free of your habit. And the worst part? How fucking innocent you were. How good and trusting and naive. Robb thought perhaps he was in love with that and wanted to protect that innocence. To preserve it forever.

But soon, he realized that the truth was that he wanted to ruin it.

It is a day like any other when he finally gives in to his all-consuming desire for you.

You give him that soft smile of yours, greeting him with a “Hello, Father Robb.”

He stares after you as you make your way down the hall, the natural sway of your lips tempting him beyond belief. Robb feels his mouth go dry and fiddles with his collar. His collar that he feels he no longer deserves to wear.

After Sunday service is over, he pulls you into the confessional booth with him, smirking to himself as you gaze up at him, confused. His lips come crashing down onto yours, and while you’re shocked for a minute, you kiss him back. You’d be lying if you said you never fantasized about Father Robb. His sweet blue eyes, that stubble that lines his jaw, that streak of gray in his hair. Your hands thread in his curls as he removes your habit, lifting you up, pushing your dress to your hips.

“Such a filthy little girl for me, aren’t you, Sister?” he murmurs in his thick Northern accent, fingers tracing your pussy over your panties, “So wet for me. Were you thinking about this, little sinner?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

“I didn’t hear you.”

You gasp as he lands a light slap against your cunt, making you meet his gaze as you speak up, “Yes, Father.”

“That’s better,” Robb purrs, moving your underwear to the side and pushing two long, thick fingers inside of you.

You grip the roof of the confessional as he fucks you with his fingers, eyes fixed on yours, his gaze hooded and full of lust as he feels you squeezing around him. He rubs against your sweet spot, thumb drawing circles against your clit bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You close your eyes only to have him rasp in your ear.

“Eyes on me, little one.”

He pulls his hand away from you, undoing his pants, revealing his rather impressive cock to you, long and thick and achingly hard. You take some degree of pride in the fact, eyes scrunching shut as he pushes inside you. He stretches you out on his cock, lips pressed to your neck as he ruts against you, gripping your chin with one of his hands.

“Oh my God,” you manage to whimper, only for Robb to bite down hard on your neck.

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain, Sister.”

“Yes, Father,” you let out a strangled gasp as you feel his finger moving toward your backside, teasing your puckered hole, “Father, please-”

“What is it you want, Sister?” Robb chuckles, “Don’t be shy.”

“I want to come,” you whisper, “Please…”

He moves faster and faster, his cockhead brushing up against your most sensitive parts. You feel him so deep inside that you know you’re going to be sore the rest of the day, but you can’t bring yourself to care, especially when he pushes one finger into your puckered hole, past the tight ring of muscles, the added stimulation sending you careening over the edge with a near scream of his name.

Robb, seemingly not caring for the consequences, spills himself inside of you with a low growl of your name, burying his face in your neck as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your high together.

“You’d best say your prayers, Sister,” he murmurs, “And ask for our Lord to have mercy on you. Because God knows I most certainly will not.”

No one:

Bel: *posts Robb Stark x Reader fic*

Me: *crying, heaving, shaking all at once in joy*

BELLLL, you know that I am the biggest whore for Robb Stark, and you go and post this MASTERPIECE?????? LITERALLY HOW DARE YOU????? AND THEN HAVE THE NERVE TO POST IT IN FINALS SEASON WHEN MY SPIRITS ARE MOST DOWN, AND YOUR WRITING JUST PICKED ME RIGHT BACK UP????

"Last Christmas" - Modern!Robb Stark x Best Friend!Reader

a/n: a request from my beloved @foxyanon!!! i love you so much, bby, hope you enjoy this! 🩷

Summary: Last Christmas, Robb Stark broke your heart by getting back together with Talisa. But maybe this year, things will be different.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 1,500 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The last time you saw your best friend, Robb Stark, was last Christmas. He was dealing with the fallout of his breakup with his first serious girlfriend, Talisa. It had been a little over a month and from what you could tell, he was still pretty cut up about it. It hurt you, seeing him like that, red rimmed eyes and his lower lip trembling, his hair in disarray, especially when you’ve been in love with him for half your life. You’ve kept that secret close to your heart, never telling anyone, not even your female friends, that you’re in love with Robb.

And, for a brief moment there, you thought maybe he could love you back. You remember the holiday party at the Stark family mansion last year, where the two of you ended up under the mistletoe, the way he smiled at you, his eyes creasing at the corners in that way that always makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You looked away, avoiding eye contact, but he gently grabbed you by the chin, tilting your face up toward him, whispering in that rough timbre of his.

“We can’t mess with tradition.”

Robb’s lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss, the kind of kiss you see in movies, where your foot pops up and it feels like everything is right in the world. You lost yourself in the moment, letting him hold you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, his stubble tickling your face. Everything was perfect. When you broke apart, you smiled up at him, telling him you were going to grab some hot chocolate for the two of you, to which he nodded with that adorable smile of his.

But when you came back? There she was.

With her arms wrapped around him, her lips pressed to his. The girl you could never measure up to.

Talisa.

And so you walked away and never looked back. You never answered his calls, you blocked him on Instagram and Snapchat, every social media platform known to man really. And you decided to do something for yourself that you always wanted to but never got around to doing. You decided to take a year to yourself and travel the world. You traveled from Dorne to Yi Ti to Essos, all over the world, from the Riverlands to the Westerlands.

All in an attempt to forget him, which you never did.

It’s been 365 days since you last saw him, and now? You’re standing at the Stark family’s front door again. You tried to get out of going to this party, but Jon saw you at the grocery store and the moment he learned you were back home, he practically blackmailed you into attending.

The door opens and Sansa pulls you into a tight hug, instantly shoving a mug of hot chocolate into your hands, rambling to you about how much she’s enjoying university, how much everyone missed you in the year that you were gone, how Robb kept trying to get in touch with you but he couldn’t.

“I deleted most of my social media,” you mumble, taking a sip of your drink, “And I didn’t have an international calling plan.”

“Oh, well, I know he’ll be so happy to see you, let me go find him!”

Before you can stop her, Sansa has sprinted off, yelling for her older brother. You begin to panic, seeing that familiar mop of auburn curls from the corner of your eye. You duck behind the obnoxiously large Christmas tree, your heart pounding in your chest. You poke your head out slightly and see that he’s looking around the room frantically, no doubt searching for you. The thought makes your heart ache and every part of you wants to go to him.

But you can’t.

Seeing him with Talisa broke your heart, especially after he’d smiled at you like that, kissed you like that, given you hope that maybe he felt the same way about you. You try and make your escape toward the backyard, only to bump into Ramsay Bolton. He smirks at you, opening his big dumb mouth to say something crass, only to see the desperation on your face. You’re taken by surprise when he steps aside, allowing you to make your escape, hearing him tell Robb that no, he hasn’t seen you everywhere.

Ramsay Bolton not being a complete cunt? Seems everyone is getting into the holiday spirit.

You go out and sit on the swingset you remember playing with Robb and Jon on as kids. Jon, being the eldest, would take turns pushing the two of you, and once Sansa was old enough, she would take the seat beside you. Jon would push her and Robb would push you. Those days seem so far away now, you think as you set your mug down, gazing up at the sky, watching the snowflakes fall to the ground, the sight being every bit as beautiful as you remember from your childhood.

You wince as you hear someone taking a seat on the swing beside you, knowing there’s only one person it could be. You turn to face him.

Robb.

He lights a cigarette, placing it between his lips and taking a long drag, the smoke visible in the air as he exhales with how frigid the night is. He turns to look at you, with those big blue eyes of his, and he seems hurt. No, that’s not fair. He doesn’t get to be hurt. He extends the cigarette to you and you take it, wrapping your lips around it and inhaling. He stares at you, his gaze piercing, the two of you silent for a long moment. The silence between you two used to be comfortable, like you could communicate without having a need for words. This silence is different.

It’s tense. You hate it. You hate that your best friend feels like a stranger.

“Why?”

His voice is every bit as beautiful as you remember. You sigh deeply, your fingertips brushing against his as you hand him back the cigarette.

“Why what, Robb?”

“You left,” he pauses, “Without even saying goodbye. We kissed and you were just… Gone. Was it that horrible to kiss me?”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, “No, but you want to know what was that horrible? Coming back with hot chocolate and seeing you macking on your ex!”

Robb frowns, “Talisa? Love, she kissed me because I was standing under the mistletoe waiting for you. If you had waited two seconds, you would’ve seen me push her away and tell her I have feelings for someone else.”

You shake your head, not wanting to believe him, grabbing your purse as you walk toward the street, “Forget it, Robbie. I can’t do this right now.”

You hate the fact that your voice cracks, the fact that your eyes are stinging with your unshed tears.

And most of all? You hate the fact that he follows you out into the street, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back toward him.

Robb holds your face in his hands so delicately, as if you’re a china doll, something precious, meant to be treasured, as he whispers, “I was so blind. For so long. I thought you would never feel that way about me, and so I tried to move on with Talisa. She was never my first love. It was always you.”

You look up at him, lips parted in surprise, “I… What?”

Robb smiles, that same smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling, blue irises dancing with mischief, “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what it was to be in love with someone. I was terrified you didn’t feel the same way, and so I hid it. I did my best to move on, but that’s the thing about you.” He tucks your hair behind your ears, leaning in as he whispers, “There’s no moving on from you, love.”

The tears finally begin to fall as he presses his lips to yours, soft and tender, filled with all the passion and love he has for you, years of unspoken feelings poured into this one beautiful kiss, this moment where the two of you finally admit how you feel for each other.

“I love you,” Robb whispers against your lips, “I love you more than anything in the world.”

You swallow thickly, barely holding back a sob, your voice cracking as you reply, “I love you too, Robbie. Fuck, I’ve always loved you.”

He smiles at you again, pressing his lips to your temple and pulling you into a tight hug, his warmth so familiar and so comforting. He takes your hand in his, leading you back inside the party, his mother and father giving the two of you knowing looks while Bran hands Arya a $20 bill. She smirks at the two of you, giving a mock salute.

And Robb? He kisses you again.

Literally me when Bel posts anything Robb Stark Related

"You're A Mean One, Mr. Stark" - Modern!Robb Stark x Wife!Reader

a/n: a request from @toms-cherry-trees!!! i love you so much, mars, hope you enjoy this little piece! 🩷

Summary: You do your best to get your Grinchy husband into the holiday spirit.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, oral m receiving, breeding kink, p in v sex

Word Count: 1,210 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

For someone who is from the Christmas capital of Westeros, Robb Stark hates the holidays. He hates the sheer amount of tourists who flock to Winterfell, the extra hours he has to work, the traffic pileups. He finds the music entirely cliche, thinks that most of the mall Santas are probably pedophiles, and hates having to put the lights up every single damn year. The only bright side for him? How happy you, his beloved wife, get during the holiday season. You adore your little holiday traditions - buying an ugly sweater each year, doing a family Christmas card with the two of you, the kids, and Greywind, leaving milk and cookies out for Santa. You absolutely adore Christmas and have raised your and Robb’s kids to feel quite similarly. So, he puts on a stiff upper lip and every year, he manages to eke through the holidays by the skin of his teeth.

This year, however, things seem slightly different. He’s more stressed than usual, being up for a huge promotion and having to work longer hours than ever. It’s also his first holiday season without his father, Ned having passed away earlier in the year. If there ever was a Christmas where Robb earned the right to be a Grinch, it was this one.

And you? You have the perfect plan to get him into the holiday spirit and bring some cheer back into his life.

Robb has never been able to resist you in fancy lingerie, after all.

So, you send the kids over to Jon and Ygritte’s, the latter giving you a rather mischievous smirk, having gone shopping with you to pick up the perfect set, while Jon just looks on in confusion. She rolls her eyes at her long-term boyfriend, slapping the back of his head while telling him he knows nothing, causing you to giggle at the look of offense on his face. You kiss little Ned and Rickard goodbye, waving them off as they climb into Jon’s truck, ready for a weekend with their uncle. Gods, you hope Jon doesn’t send them back all sugared up like last time.

When they’ve pulled out of the driveway, you close the door, smirking to yourself as you race to get everything ready for when Robb gets home. Scented candles, his favorite dinner, all of it. Robb typically does all the cooking - wearing only those gray sweatpants of his that make him look so fucking irresistible - but today? You want to let him relax.

So, the minute he walks through the front door, taking off his jacket, he smells his favorite food, following his nose toward the kitchen, grinning like a fool. He’s always been a sucker for your cooking. But when he gets to the dining table, it isn’t the food which catches his eye.

It’s you, dressed in a little red number with white trim. A naughty Mrs. Claus, if you will, lips painted red and a smirk on your face as you beckon him closer with a curved finger. And what choice does Robb have but to obey? He walks toward you, his jaw hanging open as you sit up on your knees, giggling.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark,” you coo, “You’ve been awfully Grinchy this Christmas, so I think, as your missus, it’s my duty to instill some holiday cheer in you.”

He lets out a groan as your fingers tangle in his auburn curls, pulling him into a heated kiss, your tongues moving against each other as he quickly moves to get rid of his shirt. You eye him greedily, nails running down his chest before moving to the waistband of his trousers, undoing them with ease, palming at his cock over the fabric of his boxers. No matter how many times you and Robb make love, you’re always amazed by how big he is, how long and thick he is, and immediately think about the way he makes you feel when he’s inside you.

But as he moves to rid you of your red lacy panties, you shake your head, chiding playfully, “Not today, Robbie. Today, I’m taking care of you.”

He watches as you mouth at his cock over the fabric of his boxers, groaning as he tosses your little Santa hat aside, fingers twisting in your hair. You brace your palms against his thighs, tugging his underwear down and taking him into your mouth, moaning against his cock. You give him the tiniest of nods and he knows what you’re telling him to do. Robb slowly begins rocking his hips against you, admiring the sight of your crimson lips wrapped around him, the feeling of your hot, wet mouth as he fucks it being almost too much to bear. And gods, the way you’re looking up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire.

Every day, he’s amazed by the fact that he wants you just as bad as the day he met you. And he knows he always will. He feels himself getting close and pulls away from you, grinning at the little pout you let out.

“Robbie!”

“Want to cum inside you, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him, bending you over the dining table. He pushes your hair away away from the nape of your neck, kissing your sensitive skin as he moves your panties aside, teasing your pussy, grinning at the fact that you’re wet just from sucking him off, “We said we wanted to try for baby number three, didn’t we?”

You nod, barely able to hold back your beam of excitement as you feel him enter you with one smooth thrust. Robb fucks you like he hates, you, his grunts and growls being almost feral in nature as he ruts into you. Gods, you’ve always loved how primal he gets when he’s like this. He’s every bit the wolf starks are said to be, and you’re all too happy to take it. He’s so big, filling you up perfectly with each snap of his hips, his cock brushing against your sweet spot every fucking time. You move your fingers to circle your clit, whining when he smacks your hand away only to do the job himself.

Your eyes roll back, toes curling as he pounds into you, one hand playing with you while the other holds your hips in place as he takes complete control.

“Feel so good for me, baby,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin, “You gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy after this? Gonna let me fill you up again and again?”

“Fuck, yes, Robb, please!” Your whines grow louder and louder in tandem with your pleasure, growing to a crescendo as you spill yourself on his cock, feeling him reach his own end a few moments after.

The two of you stay like that for a long moment, breathing heavily. Robb turns you around to face him, his lips capturing yours for a long moment before he speaks again.

“How long till the kids get home?”

“Jon took them for the weekend.”

The look on his face is downright wolfish as he hardens against your thigh once again, a promise of a very happy holiday season to come.

It’s 4 am here and I’m pretty sure God woke me up so I could read this 😇

Excellent work as always, definitely gave me some ideas for the Robb x OC stuff I’m writing 🤤🤤🤤

Robb Stark NSFW Alphabet

TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Robb is an absolute gentleman when it comes to taking care of you after ravishing you. No matter where the two of you are, he'll make sure he cleans you off, carries you to the bath. Makes sure that he's the one running it for you, bringing you wine. He enjoys the intimacy of it all very much.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Robb's favorite body part of his own is his beard when he's grown it out. He loves the way you whine when his face is buried between your thighs, his beard tickling your skin. His favorite body part of yours is a tie between your thighs and your hair. He loves tugging at it when the two of you are fucking.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Robb enjoys cumming inside of you. He almost feels disappointed in himself if he cums in your mouth because the thought of filling you with his pups makes him absolutely feral with need.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you first came to stay at Winterfell, he managed to get Bran to steal some of your smallclothes and give them to him for... Reasons that he doesn't feel obliged to disclose.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you? None. But you give him allllll the experience he needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. Hitting it from behind, one hand in your hair or wrapped around your throat, the other grasping at your hips as he fucks into you. Also mating press. For obvious reasons.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tends to err more on the serious side but if the moment arises, he can definitely joke and be goofy. Robb likes that he's comfortable enough with you that he can laugh at such an intimate moment.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches the drapes (brownish red, curly, coarse). Before you, he didn't realize the need for keeping himself trimmed, etc. But now? It's an almost obsessive habit.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

An absolute romantic when the moment arises. Words of praise falling from his lips like there's no tomorrow, declarations of love and how he'd slay dragons, conquer kingdoms, anything in the world for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember the aforementioned smallclothes that he had Bran steal for him? Let's just say that this was the reason.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Puppy play, breeding kink, primal play, spit kink, blood kink, impact play (spanking), pregnancy kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The Godswood. Does he feel guilty about it? Yes. Does he feel guilty enough to not do it? Absolutely not.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You smiling at him over your wine chalice, watching you act like a mother hen to his younger siblings, the sight of you bending over to grab something, your cleavage, the sight of you after you've done something physical and are a bit sweaty.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never share you. Ever.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving. He could eat you out for hours. He lives for the sounds and faces you make, the way your thighs tremble around him. Going down on you alone is enough to get him off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It's an even mix. Post battle or while at camp or after having had an argument? Fast and rough. All other times? Slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan, but being the King in the North makes it so that this is often his only option. Quickies happen more often than not.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Surprisingly willing and open to experimenting with new things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina of a wolf. He can genuinely go for 5-6 rounds at a time without even breaking a sweat. The two of you like to joke that it's the Stark blood. Lasts a decent while too.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really. Neither of you were very experienced before getting together, but if you suggest something? He's game to try it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Robb is a mean, mean boy. He loves to tease, to degrade, to bring you to the edge just to deny you and make you beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quite loud. Growling, groaning, grunting, moaning. Talks a lot during sex as well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Enjoys walking around shirtless in front of Theon and Jon to show off the scratches you leave on his back. Likes joking that he got into it with a "she-wolf" aka his wife.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and THICK. This man is hung like a fucking horse. And he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high, especially after the two of you have been apart. Don't expect to leave your chambers for at least two days.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Falls asleep fast, crushing you to his chest, running his fingers through your hair and smiling softly as sleep takes him.

New Fic Coming Soon!

I'M WRITING A DARK KING ROBB STARK X READER FIC WHERE TALISA WAS A SPY AND READER PRETTY MUCH SAVES THE DAY!!!

THERE'S GOING TO BE SMUT AND DARK THEMES, SO LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED WHEN I POST IT ON TUMBLR

(I'll also post it on AO3)

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

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

Entangled Fates

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: The Targaryen name has brought nothing but misery to Y/N— her half-blood placing a curse upon her. She's observed the toll her presence takes on the people she loves; no longer wanting to form a close tie with anyone. Nevertheless, her heart steered its own course. And it steered towards a certain man.

Warnings: angst. allusion to r*pe and death, nothing descriptive. a steamy make-out scene but nothing crazy. not really book or show accurate but f it we ball. also fluff. also reader has dark hair so just pretend u do if u don't xoxo.

Word count: 10.1K (beginning just has lots of background lore pls bear w/ me)

In life, there are those destined for lavish living and those made to struggle to see their next day. From a young age, Dorea knew she fell into the second category. She grew up orphaned; never knowing the love of a mother or a father. Despite the fact, Dorea was strong willed; she found her own kind of love. Love for herself, love for her friends, and love for her life. She knows that she did not have the best life; her dresses had holes in them, she had to work from dawn to dusk, and she often would need to go days without eating. That ultimately changed the day a close friend of hers had come to her with a new line of work.

“One of the castles maids was executed, so her position is open to take”.

Looking back, she should’ve said no from the way a chill went up her spine. She had heard the rumors of the king having gone mad; but at the time, that was not her problem. Being a castle maid sounded a lot better than being a candle maker. All she had to do was clean the chambers and mind her business and pay would be given to her. The task sounded easy— it should’ve been easy. Dorea had ways of not drawing attention to herself. That is how she has made it this far in her life; from hiding. The peace of obscurity brought her comfort; being anonymous was a safe refuge that protected her from prying eyes and the entanglements of wicked connections. The girl was pure and innocent.

Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans.

She truly had done all she could to stay out of the eyes of the royal family. She should’ve been more careful, more attentive, more aware of the eyes that followed her unknowingly when she walked the halls. Her foolishness had caught up to her one day when a guard had dragged her to the throne room; thrown to the ground to kneel in front of the king, Aerys II Targaryen. Dorea was ready to open her mouth and beg for forgiveness on whatever crimes she had committed but was silenced in fear. “You will meet me in my chambers tonight”, he said. Dorea could do nothing but nod as she could not go against the kings’ words. The only thing she could do was look to the Hand of the King for some form of help, but they stood muted. Moments later, she was whisked away by some female servants— some of them her own friends— and was prepared for the event. She was washed and dressed properly; never have been so physically clean yet so dirty internally.

Later that night, her virtue and gaiety of life was destroyed when the king came and took her. She had prayed to the Gods that it was only a one-time thing. But the Gods seemed to find her plea a joke. The king would request her presence many more times and many more nights afterwards. Her position as a maid in the castle vanished overnight. Now, she stood as something different; still, she did not know exactly what. All Dorea knew was she felt shame as those working in the castle started to treat her different, with more respect and caution. She dreamt every night for this nightmare to end, but it only continued.

“The girl is pregnant, your grace”. The maestar told the king. Both fear and relief spread through her body. Fear in the sense that the king would have her eliminated to hide such sin, and relief that he might just send her away forever. It had to be one or the other; from what she has seen, the queen is currently pregnant as well and due in a few moons. Furthermore, he already had two children born, why would he need her? Her thoughts were interrupted by the third alternative she had feared the most, “You will continue to stay here. You will have the child”. Later that night, Dorea prayed once more for all this suffering to end. Finally, her prayer had been answered in the worst way possible.

She had heard the talks of the rebellion, but she never thought it would come to where she resigned. The king’s heir was now dead, along with his wife and children. The queen was now dead; dying from childbirth. The middle child and newest member of the royal family had been sent to exile. And the Mad King was now dead as well; stabbed by a member of his own Kingsguard.

Death and misery surrounded Dorea everywhere.

For her own safety, and her chance once again at freedom, she did what she knew she had to do. She ran away.

Dorea took refuge in a small village that resided in the Reach. Selling all the gifts and jewelry the king had bestowed upon her; she and her unborn child were set for life. A few moons later, Dorea gave birth during a warm summer night. As she held the newborn in her arms, she thought the Gods had finally decided to take pity on her and grant her some kindness. For starters, she had given birth to a girl. Dorea was thankful in the sense that the child would not be seen as a threat to the line of succession of the Iron throne. Additionally, the babe had no features of a Targaryen. Caressing the small amount of hair on her daughter’s hair, she was given hair as dark as night instead of the silvery-gold feature of her biological father. Dorea let out a sigh of relief once the girl opened her eyes— no violet eyes either. Pulling the babe closer to her chest, she gave a quick prayer and smiled down at the sleeping babe.

Dorea named her Y/N.

As time passed, Y/N quickly grew before her mothers’ eyes. Both her and her mother were beloved by the village folks— Dorea giving money to those who were in need, and her daughter who was tenderhearted and befriended all. No one in the village had known about Doreas’ past or Y/N true linage. And Dorea wanted to keep it that way. She, however, knew that one day it would all come back to bite her. Despite having run away, she knew that there were some people who knew of their existence. It did not help her case more when Y/N had begun to show a great fascination with fire; something the mothers of the village made jokes about, but Dorea knew the truth.

“You have dragon blood within you”, Dorea had whispered to her daughter one quiet night. “You are part Targaryen, but you must keep this a secret. I am only telling you this for your own safety. There are people in this world who will want to hurt you, to take you away from me. Do you understand darling?”. At just the age of eight, Y/N was smarter and brighter than her peers. Hearing such solemness in her mothers’ voice, she nodded, “Yes mother”.

Such a topic was dropped and never brought up again— that was until Y/N turned ten. Since Dorea had the funds, she had hired a tutor for the young girl. Y/N’s instructor was a retired tutor who had taught many kids from noble homes before moving to their village. The old man was just supposed to teach her simple things like language, arts, music, and maths.  Without her mothers’ knowledge, Y/N brought up the topic of history to her teacher, particularly the history of the Targaryen household. And that’s where everything started.

It was one calm afternoon in their shared bedroom when Y/N had asked the question. “Mother, am I cursed?”. Dorea, puzzled, stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and turned towards her, “What kind of question is that?”. Y/N looked sheepishly to the side and confessed everything, “I have been learning history with my tutor. Targaryen history”. Before Dorea could respond, the young girl continued, “You say I am half Targaryen, and based upon their history, I must be cursed”. Dorea questioned what she meant and then let out a loud laugh at her daughters’ answer: “I have black hair mother”.

Dorea caressed her daughters face, smiling and shaking her head, “Darling, your hair color does not mean anyth- “.

“But its true mother!” Y/N exclaimed, “It is shown all over their history. Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest sons were born with dark hair, and they all died before they could reach adulthood. Rhaenys Targaryen was known as the “Queen Who Never Was” and saw the death of her two children in her lifetime. Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter was killed in the sack of Kings Landing. Valarr Targaryen was- “.

“What does any of that have to do with you?!”, Dorea shouted out, startling Y/N. The young girl felt tears come to her eyes as she hid herself in her mothers’ embrace, muffling her words, “They were not pure Targaryen. I am not a pure Targaryen, mother. I do not wish to fall to such misfortunes”. Dorea felt her heart break at the sound and thoughts of her daughters’ troubles. Shaking her head, Dorea raised Y/Ns’ head and looked straight into her eyes, “You are not cursed. Their misfortunes are not yours. Do you hear me girl? This is your life, and you control it”. Y/N could do nothing but continue to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother whispered, her voice a tender melody that carried reassurance. Dorea cradled the young girl, whose sobs softened but still lingered, the remnants of a storm that had raged within her fragile heart. “I will protect you no matter what”, she declared.

Y/N would forever remember that loving moment, amongst the many others she shared with her mother. While Dorea had said she would do anything to protect her, Y/N should’ve said the same thing back. Yet, fate, with its twisted sense of irony, had other plans for the daughter. Not even a month later, Y/Ns’ mother died, succumbing to a mysterious illness that took her in a matter of days. It felt as though the moment she acknowledged the said “curse”, her world only came to be filled with hurt.

Being only ten years old and now orphaned, the people in the village were kind enough to take the girl in. Specifically, it was a family of three that consisted of a father and mother and a son her age who took her into their home. The boy, named Tomas, had always been a close friend of Y/N. The two would spend many days together, playing and running around in the meadows. He would pick flowers for her and in return she would do the same. There was even one early morning when the two stood by their village’s lake and shared a kiss with each other. Despite still being a child, Y/N felt as though she was feeling the love that was described in the fairytale stories her mother used to read to her.

Sadly, that love was taken from her as well. At the young age of one and three, Tomas had somehow fallen and drowned in that same lake. Y/N had never heard such a devasting scream as Edith, Tomas’s mother, held her dead son in her arms. The village was both in mourning and in query; Tomas had been taught to swim at the age of four, how could this have happened? No explanations were thought of, but Y/N had her own belief.

I’m cursed, she would toss in turn in her bed at night, I am cursed.

Two more years would pass by, and no other unfortunate incidents would have occurred. But there is always calm before the storm. One day, something within Y/N had made her go explore the small forest that was near her village. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she had done it many times before. Yet, she stayed exploring for hours before that same voice within her told her to return. Upon seeing her village within the distance, Y/N should’ve never listened to that voice. She wishes she could’ve stayed back and continue being ignorant of everything. Her village— the homes, the crops, the trees, everything, was up in flames. Running down the dirt paths, Y/N did not have time (nor did she want to) to acknowledge all slaughtered men, women, and children that laid on the grounds. A small amount of hope had sparked within her when she saw that her home was not ablaze. That hope died upon entering the residence— Y/N crying out in distress at the sight of Edith, the women she had come to see as her second mother, dead on the ground. Her sadness was turned to fear when she spotted a large man in the corner, angry and hungry for blood. Before the crazed man could run at her, he was tackled to the ground by Lance— Edith’s husband and her adopted father. He was clearly injured; covered in blood from head to toe but still had the strength in him to scream at Y/N, desperation laced in his voice, “Run girl! Run and do not look back!”. Y/N, not wanting to witness his clear end, quickly listened to his order and ran out the door, trying her best to stay out of sight of all the other savage men as she made her way out the village.

She must’ve ran for hours before she knew she was no longer in danger. A day or two of traveling passed by before she took residence in a small city. That same night, under a dirty bridge, she finally acknowledged all hell that had occurred to her within the past forty-eight hours. The dams broke as she cried and screamed out in sorrow and pain. She cried, and cried, and cried until she had no more tears to let out; now consumed by numbness. Her mother, her first love, her caretakers, her childhood friends, her home; had all been taken from her. What had she done to deserve this? With her heart broken into millions of pieces, Y/N decided that she wouldn’t live like this. Never would she fall in love and never would she form a deep connection with anyone again. She wasn’t going to let herself be tied to the Targaryen name, to its blood, nor its curse. She wasn’t going to let this curse win and see her suffer again.

And so, she did; well, she tried her best at least. With the little money she had on her, Y/N jumped from village to village, city to city, and made sure not to socialize with anyone. There were some instances of people trying to get to know her, boys trying to court her, but she wouldn’t stay very long and would be gone the next day. It was a lonely life, a life she despised but knew she had to endure. That changed a bit when she came face to face with a woman with a fair complexion and silver hair.

Daenerys Targaryen. The “Mother of Dragons”. Her older half-sister.

Daenerys had always known about her half-sister’s existence; her older brother one day rambling that the throne belongs to a true Targaryen and not the current usurper, nor the “Targaryen-bastard filth” their father left behind. At first, Y/N was wary of the girl but soon found herself becoming fond of her presence. Daenerys felt the same way; with no family left on either girl’s end, they quickly found solace in each other— treating one another as the sisters they are. It was strange at first for Y/N; getting used to now having family once again and the companionship of dragons that came with it. Initially, she was terrified at the sight of the foreign creatures but quickly came to love them and their beautiful nature. She became quite close with the one called Rhaegal, favoring the dragon over the overs. Rhaegal doted and protected the girl the same; but still recognized Daenerys as its’ rightful mother. Y/N could say she just held the title of “favorite aunt” now amongst the creatures.

The thought of the curse still weighed heavy in the back of her mind, but Y/N hypothesized that whatever superstition was out to get her would not harm her sister; a true (and last) Targaryen. Y/N immediately recognized Daenerys as her queen and vowed to help her reclaim her throne. For some time, Y/N felt happiness once again entering her life as she spent more time with her sister and her allies. That bliss, however, turned out to be false hope.

“When the time comes and I reclaim my throne, I will legitimize you as a Targaryen”, Daenerys spoke to her one night. Y/N wanted to decline right away; she was content with not having a household name and did not want to be associated with the Targaryen name. Before Y/N could speak, Daenerys looked shamefully down while holding her sister’s hand, “There is a reason why I came looking for...”. Y/N felt a chill run up her spine and quickly encouraged the Mother of Dragons to continue. “I am unable to have my own children. When the time is right, I will need you to find a man, any man of your choosing..”, Daenerys sternly said as she looked into Y/N eyes, “I will need an heir to inherit the throne and continue my family name. Do you understand sister?”. Daenerys felt guilt creep up inside her as she finally confessed her true intentions from the start of meeting Y/N. She was asking too much of Y/N but, she, however, was on a mission to reclaim her birthright no matter what. Y/N stared agape at her, no words coming from her mouth. She wanted to decline even more— but, looking into Daenerys eyes, she saw the graveness within them and the true tone behind her words. She was not asking this of her as her sister. She was commanding this of her as her queen. And Y/N would do anything for her rightful queen.

“Yes, sister. I understand”. Y/N now found herself tied to the Targaryen name. Something she vowed never to be but couldn’t escape.

As time passed by, Y/N kept her promise and stood by Daenerys side as she continued her conquest; now finding herself at Dragonstone, her sister’s ancestral home. The preparations and campaign for Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne was in full effect but was interrupted momentarily.

“The King in the North?”, Daenerys questioned one of her advisors who came bearing news. “Yes my Queen. He sent a raven— detailing that he wishes to speak with you”. Y/N, standing off to the side, expressed her thoughts and question, “I had heard that the King in the North was dead”.

“As did I”, Daenerys said sharply. The man before them nodded his head, “Yes. There was an incident that had occurred that made everyone believe he was dead. But he is very much alive”. Daenerys raised her eyebrows up, skeptical about this so called “King in the North”— “And he trusts me with the information of his false death?”

“Well, according to his letter, yes.”

Y/N and Daenerys turned, staring into each other’s eyes, speaking with them. Not much emotion was shown behind Y/N eyes, but she was able to express with them, “What harm is there in seeing what he wants”. Sighing, Daenerys nodded her head and agreed with her sister.

“Send a message back. Invite him here and let him know I agree to speak with him”.

A few days later, Y/N stood on the shores, waiting to welcome her guests on the request of Daenerys. Once she saw the boats pull up on the beach, she made her way but stopped in amazement. Out from one of the boats came a large, thick furred animal— a dire wolf. She had only ever heard about the mythical creatures and now she was in close distance with one. Dragons and now dire wolves; she held a small smile on her face at the uniqueness that was the world. Clearing their throats, the two guards behind her had snapped her out of her daydream, reminding her of the task. Standing tall, Y/N put on her best welcoming smile and stood in front of the party, “Welcome to Dragonstone. I have been sent by our rightful Queen to give our greetings”.

Y/N voice had started loud and clear, but slightly quieted down towards the end as she made eye contact with a man. A very handsome man to be exact, she thought to herself. He stood tall and strong, a lean build with dark curls and blue eyes as blue as the water behind them. He smiled at her and before he could open his mouth, the older man next to him spoke up. “I present Robb Stark. Heir to the Stark household and King of the North”. Y/N raised her eyebrows at the discovery of the handsome stranger being the King in the North. Turning to him, she held a sort of mischief but harsh attitude in her voice, “Is the King in the North unable to speak for himself?”

The men in front of her were clearly taken back. Except for Robb Stark who let out a small laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am very capable of speaking. I am Robb Stark”. He held out his hand and was charmed when she firmly grasped it and shook it; opting out of giving her his hand to kiss.  

“I am not a lady. Please, call me Y/N”. Robb was preparing himself to compliment her name but was cut off by the same man next to him. “She’s the Targaryen bastard, your grace”. Though it was meant to be a whisper for only Robb to hear, Y/N was in close enough proximity to have heard it as well. Robb swiftly turned to his advisor next to him, giving him a crude look before turning back to the girl, “Forgive the rudeness of- “

“No, it is quite alright” she waved her hand, “It is all true anyway. I am THAT Targaryen bastard”. Robb nodded, gulping as he tried to ease the tension, “I have heard a lot about you...and your sister too, of course”. Y/N wanted to let out a chuckle at the sight before her; a gorgeous man trying his best not to insult her. “And I have heard very little about you,” Y/N voiced, “Other than the fact that you were supposedly dead, which I can see you are very much alive”, looking him up and down with her eyes. Robb smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “It is a long story”. Y/N let out a “hmm” sound, looking off towards the side to the dire wolf. “Is he yours?”

“Yes. His name is Grey Wind. I’ve had him since he was a pup”. Y/N nodded once more, noticing just how well behaved the wolf was, “He’s very beautiful”. Robb thanked her for the compliment, grinning widely, “I can see you are fond of animals. Do you have any of your own?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head, “No. I have children.”

Robb was clearly taken back by her words, a stuttering mess as he questioned her statement. “O-oh? You have children?”. Y/N could sense some disappointment in his voice towards the end as it cracked. Smiling, she shook her head. “No. But I do consider them children. Just not mine. I am just an aunt”. All the guests in front of her were puzzled by her words but ducked down in fear at the sound of a roar from above. Looking up, she smiled at the sight of Rhaegal and Drogon patrolling the skies.

“Seven hells!” she heard one of Robbs’ men yell out. Turning back, she playfully spoke “My children. Beautiful, aren’t they?”. None of Robbs’ men were able to agree or speak; still in shock. Robb, still looking up to the sky, laughed earnestly, “Well, they sure are an eccentric sight to see”. Y/N smiled more at his honesty, clapping her hands together, turning and speaking to the entire party, “Well. I believe that is a sufficient way to welcome you all here. Now, I must welcome you into the castle. Please come, the Queen is curious to known what it is you wish to speak about”.

Upon greeting the Queen, Robb Starks’ words and terms were clear to her. He wishes to ally with her in her conquest to take the throne and create a fairer and just realm. “We both have a clear enemy,” he spoke, “I want the Lannisters dead for what they have done to my family, and you want them off the throne entirely”. Every so often, Robb would cast his eyes off to the side to look at Y/N; something she tried her best to hide her reddening face from. “My men, though small numbers, will be yours to use. We ask that in return, once you take your rule, you allow the North to maintain a degree of self-rule. We will recognize you as the rightful Queen, but we wish to keep the North the way it is”. Daenerys nodded her head, asking her advisors for their views on the matter, and taking Y/N by surprise when she asked her as well. “As I perceive it, the North is biggest land piece in Westeros. It would be better to keep them as allies instead of fighting them off. They recognize you as Queen, and the Stark household keeps the North in check for you, sister”. Daenerys responded with another nod, showing to be clear in thought at all the opinions given to her. The Queen stood up, still not fully convinced, but could not deny all the positives of the compromise, “Very well. I will continue to think about the matter. I will let you know that my thoughts are leaning more toward yes than it is no. For now, your men must be tired. Allow my people to escort them to rest”.

Later that night, Y/N made her way down the dark halls to the one place in the castle that brought her peace. She almost let out a small scream at the tall shadow that appeared around the corner, “My lady?”. Placing her hand to her chest to control her tachycardic heart, she saw that the dark shadow was Robb Stark. “Your grace. You almost scared me to death”, Y/N laughed, “And please, I am not a lady of noble birth. Call me by my first name”. Robb returned her laugh with his own, apologizing for scaring her. “Forgive me, my lad- Y/N. I was just curious as to why you are out so late”. She nodded her head in the direction she was originally heading in, “I can not sleep so I was heading to the library to bore myself with some reading” she joked, “Is it not late for you to be awake as well?”. Robb gave a similar answer; unable to sleep and practically full of energy. Y/N looked down at the ground for a mere second before glancing into his eyes, “Would you like to join me?”. He agreed to her invite, thankful for the darkness of the night hiding his blushed face.

Dimly lit by flickering candlelight, the shelves towered, laid with books that held centuries of knowledge and wisdom. Robb made himself comfortable at one of the chairs available while Y/N opted for the window nook. “Do you come in here often?” Robb asked. Y/n offered a silent yes, trailing her fingers against the rim of the book she had chosen, “I have not been here that long, but yes. I come here every night; I tend to have trouble sleeping”.

“Why is that?” Robb questioned.

“Nightmares”, Y/N replied. Her dreams were always filled with visions of her dead loved ones.

After a pause, Robb gave a “hmm”; silently admiring the girl for not being afraid to show vulnerability. “That’s something we both have in common” he gave a warm smile. Another quiet pause passed by until Y/N looked up at him, “You say that you being alive is a long story— can I listen to it?”. Robb gave a slight nod, standing up to sit next to her in a close but comfortable proximity.

“I was to marry the daughter of someone who I thought was my ally. I agreed initially but something within me told me not to carry out my word”. He slowly reached over for the book that was in her hands, both hands brushing slightly as he took it out of her grasp, now distracting himself with it. “The wedding still went on; I supplied another man in my place. But, there was bloodshed, and I was betrayed. I barely made it out alive, along with a few other men of mine”. Inhaling sharply, he continued with his outpour, “And I’m thankful I did. I have sources that tell me that even if I went along with the wedding, I was to be killed no matter what. The Lannisters long ago forming allies with the people I thought I could trust”. Coming close to a finish, he looked into Y/N eyes, softly smiling, “I guess it was fate that saved me somehow”.

Breaking eye contact, Y/N scoffed at his words. “Fate” she said with repugnance. Her reply caught him off guard, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You do not believe in fate?”.

Y/N took in a long sigh, shaking her head, “No I believe in it”, she gently whispered the last part, “We just never have seen eye to eye. My fate only brings me bad luck”. Robb took in her words, trying to calculate what he should say next. “I believe fate can bring both good and bad luck”, he began with, “One can say it was my fathers’ fate to have been killed, or my sisters’ fates to be held captive”, Robb swallowed thickly before continuing, “But, it is my fate to avenge and save them. It is fate that has brought me this far; that has brought me here and to you”, he slowly spoke while staring deep into Y/N eyes. She quickly looked away, hoping her face wasn’t red and was successful in controlling her facial expression. Clearing her throat, she spoke firmly, “You must be confused; I believe you are trying to woo the wrong sister, Stark. Is it not my sister who you need as your ally?”.

Robb let out a low laugh, grinning widely, “That may be true, but”, he slowly scanned the room in a playful manner, “I believe that I don’t see your sister in here at all. So, no, I am not confused. I am speaking to the right sister”. A third pause passed by as the two continued staring, wating for one of them to speak or do something. Y/N was the first— standing abruptly, she moved her hair behind her ear and let out an awkward ahem. “I believe I must retire for the night. It was nice speaking to you Stark”. Before she could make her way out the door, he called out to her.

“It’s Robb”. Turning, she questioned what he meant. Smiling, he spoke, “You can call me Robb. You say you come here every night?”. Y/N nodded her head. “Would you allow me to see you here again tomorrow? Or even spend some time with you come morning?”.

Y/N wanted to say no. She needed to stop whatever friendship (or relationship) was forming between the two before she got too close. Before her curse got to him. He had already suffered enough. Despite the fact, deep down, her own selfish desires won over. She hadn’t felt like this in forever— she wanted this feeling to last forever.

“Yes. Of course, Robb”.

Come morning, they spent the entire day together, including the night. The next day was the same. Daenerys had granted Robb and his men a longer stay as there was much to discuss. It was late in the morning that he and Y/N were walking along the shores, discussing the most random of topics. Both were making a great effort to make the other one laugh: sprouting different jokes and funny stories. They both loved hearing the sound of laughter coming out of each another’s mouths. A gentle breeze roamed the air, blowing through Y/Ns’ dark hair. Robb stood silently still, stuck in a daze and awestruck by her appearance. Swiftly, he removed his fur cloak and placed it upon her exposed shoulders. Robb gestured to the area around them as Y/N looked at him in confusion, “I thought you might be cold”. She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head but not returning his cloak back. It provided her with a sense of ease. “No,” she confessed, “I don’t run cold that easily”. Resuming their walk, Robb gave her a look of admiration, “You would do great in the North then. Have you ever been there?”.

She answered with a clear no, stopping in her path to match Robb’s sudden cease of movement. Slowly, he placed his hands upon the cloak, further wrapping it securely around her. “I believe you would love it there. Maybe one day, you can come with me to Winterfell. I would love to give you a tour and introduce you to my mother, and hopefully my sisters too. I’m sure they would love you”. No further sounds were made; the distant sound of crashing waves serving as the only soundtrack to their wordless communion. Y/N leaned slightly into him — his closeness felt like a forbidden sanctuary, a place where she found solace and belonging but knew she shouldn’t enter. Y/N only response was a gentle nod and smile.

Many heart-fluttering moments continued to happen between the two. Stolen glances from across the table, hands brushing as they took their walks, laughter and smiles shared in the dark of night. There was an occurrence in the library when Robb had urged the girl to go to bed; taking notice of her eyebags forming from their long night of talking. “I can’t go to sleep that easily. And even if I can, I just have bad dreams I can’t wake up from”, she disclosed. They sat intimately close, sharing an intense gaze, both their features illuminated by the light of the candles in the room. Y/N could see every detail, every pore, every small scar that graced his beautiful face. She was caught by surprise, her breath hitching when he gently grabbed her hand, drawing small patterns into it.

“You can sleep here if you wish. I will watch over you and wake you at any sign of discomfort”. She wanted to decline, but there was something in his eyes that was persuading her. Y/N then found herself in his warm embrace, laying her head gently on his chest. She could hear every breath he took, every beat his heart made. Sealing her eyelids, he was the sole occupant of her dreams. She had never slept better.

Daenerys was no fool to what was happening before her very eyes. Sharing a private dinner with her sister, she brought up the topic.

“So, you and the Northern have been spending some time together”. Y/N nodded; not being able to lie since there was clear evidence in front of Daenerys. “He is a good man,” she smiled, “Very kind to his men, to his wolf”, she smiled even further at the memory of Robb introducing her properly to Grey Wind. She could still hear his laughter and the concern that replaced it when Grey Wind had tackled her to the ground with wet kisses. “We don’t want to get that pretty face all slobbered up now, do we?” fondness had colored his expression as he helped her back up. The smile upon her face slipped away, a frown and more serious look taking over.

“He’s very kind to me…I don’t think I will be spending much time with him anymore though”, she held her fork tightly in her hand. Daenerys questioned what she meant by her words. “Personal reasons”, Y/N said in a somber tone, “He will be leaving soon, and I plan to stay by your side”. Daenerys nodded her head, a part of her knowing that Y/Ns’ excuse was not the full truth. It’s not an exaggeration— Daenerys wasn’t a fool. She was well aware of Y/N’s standoffish attitude; practically a hermit as she kept to herself, or Daenerys. She saw the reasoning behind it— having an understanding of her past hardships. Additionally, Daenerys once tried to comfort Y/N during a nightmare of hers, hearing the word “curse” coming out of her mouth every few seconds. She badly wanted to comfort her sister, let her know that she was not cursed— life was just not fair to everyone. Daenerys, however, said nothing. Y/N was the only family she had left, and she did not want to lose her so soon, especially to some man. Forcing a smile upon her face, Daenerys tried to hide the distaste she felt towards her own selfishness. “That is good. Family must stick together”.

As the hours slipped away, Y/N and Robb were spending their last night together in the library. Robb and his men were set to leave tomorrow— all discussions and plans made with Daenerys were finalized. Robb, sitting across the room, was enamored as Y/N read to him out loud. It was a couple nights ago that they created this little routine; Y/N would read to him, and he would give his input at certain scenes. Right now, however, he was not paying attention to what was happening in the story. He was trying to memorize her gentle sweet voice, the way her lips moved with each syllable she said. Finishing a passage, Y/N put the book down to ask Robb his view.

“I can not lie to you. I was not paying attention”. Mouth agape, she pretended to be upset, throwing the small pillow she had next to her. Robb caught the cushion, letting out a hearty laugh that rumbled deep within his chest. Standing up, he walked across the room to her, placing the pillow behind her back. He knew she liked to read in comfort. Y/Ns’ smile was warm, spreading even more across her face at the words Robb spoke next, “You have a pretty voice”. Shyly looking down, she quietly thanked him. Robb’s compliments towards her only continued, “And a beautiful face”.

Biting her lip, she was readying herself to change the topic, but he only continued more. “I remember when I saw you for the first time”, he sat down beside her, sharing body warmth now, “I truly thought I had never seen a more beautiful woman before in my life”. Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes softly and replying in a joking matter “And then you saw my sister and I was the second most beautiful woman you had seen in your life”. Her heart quickened up when she looked up at him, no humor present on his face, only showing seriousness. “No”, he whispered, “you were still the most captivating and breathtaking beauty I’d seen”. Silence filled the room. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers interlacing with hers. “I leave tomorrow”, he spoke of the one thing they both had refused to acknowledge. “That you are”, Y/N said, her main focus placed upon their hands. Drawing small comforting circles into her skin, he asked her what she had planned for her future.

“My future is a mystery”, Y/N sighed heavily, “Regardless, I will continue to stand by Daenerys and be with her when she retakes the throne. She told me that she was going to bestow the Targaryen name upon me, but I’m not sure that is what I want”. Confusion etched Robbs’ features, questioning her meaning. Her face gave away a gloomy look, “I have never really been fond of my Targaryen blood. Daenerys is the only good thing that has come out of it”, she said truthfully, “I’ve gone long enough without a household name, so I don’t see the point in having one”. A smile graced her lips as she looked at him, “I won’t lie, it is a small yearn of mine. To belong somewhere and become a part of something special”.

A pregnant pause filled the room. The only sound being heard was the burning of the fireplace. Y/Ns’ laughter echoed through the room; Robbs’ next statement finding humor within her.

“You can become a Stark”.

Shaking her head, almost wanting to wipe the imaginary tears in her eyes, she continued her fits of giggles. “And how can I do that- “

Robbs’ next sentence caused all laughter within her to cease, her breath getting stuck in her chest. “By marrying me”, he said.

Another pregnant pause. Y/N stared at him in shock, becoming a stuttering mess, “R-Robb, I…”. Before she could finish, he cut her off, taking both her hands into his now, “I plead that you allow me to speak first”, he smiled but looked ready to cry, “I have never felt the way I have when I am with you. You truly have stolen my heart, and I don’t plan on asking for it back. Come with me to Winterfell— become my wife, my queen”. With affection, he raised her hand and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on it, “Grant me the wish to spend the rest of my life with you”. Robb had poured his emotions out into his speech, mistakenly only imagining what he wanted her reply to be. He was not prepared for what Y/N said next.

“No.”

Furrowing his eyes, he dropped one of her hands but still held the other. Shaking his head, he began to apologize profoundly, “I-I’m sorry. I thought maybe there was something between us. Did I ask too soon?”, he looked desperate in front of her, “I can take back the proposal. I can court you properly if that is what you wish – “

“No. No, Robb”, Y/N let her hand drop from his, both now becoming colder by the second, “I can’t marry you”.

The tension crackled in the air as Y/N words hung between them, heavy and unresolved. The room felt suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Robb’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the ground, struggling to contain his emotions and appear unaffected, “Can I ask why?”. Y/N bit her lip, her own emotions consuming her, never wanting more than to cry. “Robb,” she sobbed, “marrying me— being with me would only bring you hell”. Shaking his head, Robb grabbed ahold of her face, staring into her eyes, “What nonsense do you speak of? That can be far from the truth”. Y/N wanted to push his hands off her but was brought warmth by his touch, “But it’s the truth. My presence alone carries a curse. All those I have cherished have been harmed and taken from me”, he delicately removed the tears that were dropping from her eyes, “I’m not supposed to fall in love with you”.

Robb didn’t know what to say, how exactly to comfort her. His only reply being, “there is no such thing as a curse”, which angered her to some extent. Standing abruptly, she screamed out in sorrow, “Yes there is! My mother, my first love, my home— everyone suffered because of me!”, she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands, sobs echoing through the room, “You have suffered enough Robb. I do not wish to cause you more misery”. Robb sprang up quickly and encircled her with an arm, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. As she cried, he felt her body quiver against his chest. He rubbed her back in gentle circles, giving her a feeling of comfort and safety. “Shhh…”, he tried soothing her, “Even if there is a curse, I won’t let it get to me, or you. I will protect you with entire life; you will never be subjected to such pain”, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her head, “I can’t let you go— living out the rest of my life thinking “what if?”.

Shaking her head, she gently pushed him away, “No, Robb”. Y/N stared at him, her eyes reflecting her inner sadness, “This is for my protection and yours. I would not have the strength in me to live if something happened to you”. Walking swiftly towards the door, she ceased her movements when Robb called out to her.

“Y/N. You deserve better”, he spoke truthfully and with sorrow, “You can’t live like this. Someone as extraordinary as you deserves to be happy. To be loved”.

She gripped the door handle, almost hurting her own hand from the pressure. Turning her head, she offered him a pained smile, “Maybe you’re right”, she opened the door, “But such fine things were not made for me in this lifetime”. And she was gone.

Y/N was unable to sleep the rest of the night, tossing and turning in her bed. Come morning, she mentally prepared herself for a conversation she knew she had to make. Standing in front of the chamber rooms Robb occupied, she knocked. A few seconds later, he opened the door, clear surprise on his face at her presence.

“Hi”, she spoke softly. Robb did not verbally reply to her greeting; opting to nod to her instead. “May I come in?”, she asked, and Robb moved to the side to allow her to enter. Looking at him, his tunic was unlaced— a clear indication she had interrupted him in the middle of dressing up. Y/N was informed that Robb and his men were to leave early morning; all they had to do was suit up and prepare their ships, and then he would be gone.

Facing him entirely, she gestured to his packed supplies in the corner, “I came to wish you a safe journey. I enjoyed our time together”. Robb registered her words, taking a deep breath, “Thank you, my lady”. She didn’t have the strength to correct him. All the while, Robb was struggling to tie up the last laces of his tunic. His hands were shaking. Walking slowly to him, she reached for his hands, moving them away to replace them with hers, “Allow me”.  Robb felt a fire ignite inside him as her gentle touch sent a chill down his spine. Focused on her work, Y/N laced up the complex pattern, her breath quickening as her fingertips touched his bare chest. Finishing up the last lace, she patted his chest and smiled up at him, “There. All done”. She only took one step back before Robb wrapped his arm around her waist, pushing her back to him. Y/N gaze softened, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. Slowly and hesitantly, she placed her hand upon his cheek, caressing him. Stretching her neck, she placed a small kiss on his lips, pulling away in mere seconds before either of them could comprehend it. Robb did the same; the two now sharing their second kiss.

For a while, they stood in each other’s embrace in silence. Robb took the next step, closing the small distance and cupping her face in his hands. With a mixture of yearning and desire, she leaned into his touch, gazing up at him as her heart ached. Reaching down, he kissed her with longing and tenderness. Y/N reciprocated right away, moving her mouth with his to match his rhythm. This kiss was longer, both wanting to savor the moment a bit more. The kiss had started off slowly but quickly came alive as they both deepened it. Robb fingers wove into her hair, pulling her closer to him; despite being as physically close as possible. Y/Ns’ body felt on fire; Robb’s touch both gentle yet firm as he traced her body with his other hand. Gasping into his mouth, she was taken by surprise (but did not fight off) at Robb picking her up by the thighs— walking to the small table in his room and dropping her on it. Opening her legs widely, he stood between them, both breathing heavily as they’re lips continued pressing together. Y/N did not know what to do with her hands, moving them all across his body and landing upon his hair, tugging slightly at his roots. Robb was the same; still opting to trace his hands across her thighs and up her breasts— igniting a moan out of her moth that he swallowed with his. Both their lips parted slightly, allowing them to slip their tongues into each other’s.

The room was heating up by the second. The only sounds that could be heard were their muffled groans and heavy breathing. Parting away, Y/N went to work to unlace his tunic— undoing her work. There was some urgency in the way her hands moved, Robb staring at her, intoxicated by her face contoured in rapture. He went straight for her dress, moving the fabric down to expose her shoulders, planting kisses on her. Y/N let out a loud whimper; the feeling of Robb biting into her neck sending a jolt of pleasure and goosebumps over her body. Grabbing his jaw, she returned her attack on his lips; their kiss now getting sloppier by the second, teeth almost clashing against. Y/N was readying herself to further pull her dress down but was interfered by Robb pulling away. Almost desperate like, she chased his lips but was denied.

“No,” Robb spoke, almost sounding to be in pain. His breath was ragged, chest moving up and down and fist clenched to his side, “Not like this”. Y/Ns’ common sense returned, slightly embarrassed that her hunger for him had taken over her completely. She was thankful that Robb had the strength and respect to keep her virtue safe. A few moments passed and their breathing became stable once again. Y/N watched as Robb gazed down at her, his lips red and bruised. Taking a hold of her face in his hand, Robb placed his forehead against her, “I love you”. Y/N could do nothing but nod, wrapping her arms around his torso, “I know”.

He smiled sheepishly at her, caressing her cheek, “Write to me at least. Please. Write to me about anything…even if you have nothing to talk about. I will always send a reply back. I promise”.  She gave him a tight-lipped smile, kissing his hand lightly, “I’ll try”. Robb knew she was lying. As they held each other’s gaze, time appeared to stop and the outside world became less significant. With one last kiss to her temple, Robb picked up his belongings and went out the door.

Y/N waited a decent number of minutes to pass before she exited the room— making sure there were no prying eyes around. She was hurrying towards her own chambers; wanting to be alone and allowed let all her tears fall free. She didn’t make it far, stopping in her movements at the sound of someone calling her name.

“Y/N”, Daenerys called out at the end of the hallway. Approaching her, she offered her sister a happy smile, “I was looking all over for you. I came to see if you wanted to bid the North men a goodbye- “, Daenerys stopped talking momentarily. Her eyes taking in Y/N disheveled appearance, and the obvious love mark on her neck. “But I can see you must’ve already given your farewell to the King in the North”, she teased.

Y/N nodding, staring down at the ground with her hands picking at the skin around her nails, “Yes, I have. So, I have no need to bid them a further goodbye. If you excuse me, I will retire for the day”. She was barley able to turn her body around before Daenerys grabbed hold of her forearm. “Hold on”, Daenerys said letting out a low chuckle, “It is still early morning. Why would you retire so soon- “. Her amusement dwindled into silence, fully grasping the emotions displayed on her little sisters’ face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”, she inquired anxiously and hastily, “Did that Stark boy do something to you?”, now anger appearing in her voice. Y/N was quick to deny her accusations, “No. He did nothing. It’s what I’ve done to him”. The queen placed a comforting embrace around her sisters’ figure, soothing her hair. “He offered me a marriage proposal, Dany” she sobbed into her shoulders, “And I told him no. I broke his heart”. Daenerys said nothing to the information given to her.  A short interval of silence ensured; disrupted by Daenerys taking in a deep breath.

“Do you love him?”.

She hadn’t expected such a direct question from Daenerys, especially about something she had been trying to conceal. Y/N hesitated for a moment— deciding there was no use in denying it, “I do”.

The older sister pulled away, smiling down lovingly at her, “Then why not go be with him?”. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling over her words, “Because I promised to stick by your side. To help you,” she defended. Staring back at the floor, Y/N inhaled deeply, “Because I am cursed- “

“That is a load of shit”, Daenerys cut in. Y/N gaped at her older sister in disbelief for her vulgar language directed at her. Daenerys persisted with her speech, “You are not cursed, Y/N. Our history might show that our ancestors without the inherited Targaryen traits suffered greatly, but that does not mean all of them will”. Putting both hands on her shoulder, she reassured Y/N, “I know that in their lives they were still able to experience contentment and love. And you should too”.

Whispering softly, Daenerys hold on her sister tightened, “You've gone through a lot, and life has made it difficult to look past your own suffering, I won't deny that. But you need not forget the positive impact that you have on others around you. You undoubtedly brought happiness and love into the lives of your mother as well as those from your pas, and me toot. I'm even more positive that you introduced that into Robb Starks' life as well”.

Daenerys took a moment to recover after her extended address; watching Y/N register every world she spoke. Placing a gentle hand on her face, Daenerys gave her final say, “So, why not go be with him?”.

Y/N expression mirrored her surprise at what she heard. Shaking her head, she repudiated, “B-But what about you? My promise to you- “. She was cut off once again. “I’ve been thinking it over”, Daenerys began, “And I’ve asked too much from you. You are my only family and I wish to keep you by me, but your life is not mine. You control it”. Y/N held her breath, a small tear forming in her eyes. A sense of déjà vu had come to her— those were similar words her own mother had told her. Daenerys smiled widely at her, taking both her hands into her own, “If I am to be a good queen and rule with fairness”, she gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I should let you live your life. As your queen, I give you the order to go live a life of happiness with the man you love”. She sustained the cheerful curve of her lips, “Go to him— go be with him in the North. A change of scenery can be good, don’t you think?”.

Y/N didn’t answer her question; instead, she sprang and encircled her sister in a warm hug. “Thank you, Dany,”, she expressed her heartfelt thanks. Daenerys words had opened her eyes; Y/N was not brought into this world to fear it— she was brought in it to appreciate its gifts. The gifts being family, happiness, and love. Daenerys suppressed a laugh that wanted to escape her lips. Pushing the girl slightly, she encouraged her further, “Now go and tell him. Rhaegal will be sad but he’ll live”. Y/N was quick to turn and follow after Robb, but stopped abruptly at Daenerys calling out to her.

“Don’t marry him too soon”. Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach at the thought that Daenerys was taking back what she said. The older sister waved her hand, shooing the girl away, “I just meant that I wish to be present at the wedding. Now, go”.

Robb stood beside a couple of his men and advisor at Dragonstone’s port. He watched his men load up the ships, trying to listen to what his advisor was saying but his mind was elsewhere. He came here to acquire the Dragon Queen as his ally— and now he leaves with that success and a broken heart. He traced back the memory of their times together, the warmth of her hands completely enclosing his, the way her eyes sparkled with every grin. A longing buried deep in his chest arose with every thought of Y/N. It was a bittersweet anguish. His advisor next to him cleared his throat, grabbing his attention when he nudged Robbs’ side, “Your grace”. Following the direction of his advisor’s eyesight, his own landed on Y/N— clearly out of breath and showing urgency.

“Y/N”, he called out. Robb was quick to grab ahold of her forearms, inspecting her body for any signs of injury, “Are you okay? Is there something wrong?” he asked, concern shown deep in his eyes. Y/N nodded her head, calming down her breathing as she watched his men leave to give them privacy. Staring up at him, she confessed, “I will not write to you”. Robbs’ brows drew together in a frown, feeling as though she was taking a jab at his sorrows. A normal reaction would be to spit fire back, but he was too in love with her.

Swallowing thickly, he responded, “I figured that already- “

“No, let me finish” she interrupted him, “I will not write to you…because I am coming with you”. His eyes widened in disbelief at the statement— not given time to properly respond once again. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her palms grw clammy, “Robb…I love you”. At last, he managed to respond, "You do?" with a tone that hinted at both surprise and joy. Y/N nodded, vulnerability showing in the blush of her cheeks and grabbing a hold of his hand, “Yes. I should’ve told you from the start and I should’ve said yes to your proposal- “, she sucked in a trembling breath, “I care about you deeply and I’ve never felt this much love for anyone”. Y/Ns’ heart raced as her words lingered in the crisp morning air. With a subtle shake of her head, she redirected the conversation. “Though I’ve come to see the foolishness in it; I still don’t know if my curse is real or not. All I know is that I wish to spend every minute— every second of my life with you”. Biting her lip gently, she broke eye contact with him, “It is a big risk, I kno- “.

“A risk I am willing to take”, Robb finally cut her off, “I would do anything for you.” In their moment of confession, they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. With their foreheads resting against each other's, a warm yet hesitant smile spread across Y/N face. “So,” she spoke shyly, “is that tour of Winterfell still up for grabs?”

Robb reciprocated her smile with his own, gently lifting his hands to touch her bottom lip. “Yes. It still is” he breathed out, “And my proposal too”. With a gentle tilt of her head, Y/N moved in closer, “Then I say you take me to Winterfell and make me your wife”. Their lips meet in a tender and heartfelt kiss— all their troubles now resolved. A quiet vow of eternity was spoken as their lips moved in rhythm. A familiar roar was heard; Y/N breaking the kiss and laughing as she took notice of Rhaegal in the sky. Robb found himself smiling even more at the sight of her joy; pulling her closer to him.

A cheeky grin formed across her face, “I think Lady of Winterfell has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”

Robb chuckled, caressing her face, “I think Queen of Winterfell sounds nicer. I also think the title of “Robb Starks’ Wife” suits you even more”. Y/N jokingly jabbed her elbow into his side, slightly squeaking as Robb reclaimed her lips in his. They both were filled with excitement and anticipation for what their future together awaited.

you said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me)

Summary: After taking Harrenhal, Robb Stark is plagued with nightmares of his sisters. WC: 2.4k words Warnings: Nightmares. Canon divergence. Angst. Harrenhal being itself. A/N: A moot made this edit of Robb and Sansa on Twitter and I have no self-control. Come suffer with me.

There wasn’t a child in all Westeros who hadn’t heard the tale of Harrenhal, whether from the lips of their nan or while curled up in their mother’s chest. Robb was no exception.

Mother called it a monument to arrogance and cruelty. Its king had enslaved the Riverlands to build the mightiest, strongest castle ever conceived. Yet it failed its first test the very day it was completed—burned down by Aegon the Conqueror and his queen sisters. Since then, it had been haunted by every drop of blood spilt within its walls. It had cursed every family that held it—House Hoare, House Qoherys, House Harroway, House Towers, House Strong, House Lothston... House Whent, his grandmother’s house, now had only one last member bearing its name. And if Robb remembered correctly, the head of House Slynt had just been sent to the Wall, stripped of Harrenhal in a mere flicker of time.

Robb blamed that history for the unease the castle instilled in him. They weren’t meant to stay long; he had plans to follow.

Grandfather was dead, they needed to pay their respects.

Bran and Rickon…

Gods help him, he didn’t know what had happened to Bran and Rickon. The whole day he was looking over his shoulders, every second since the news of Winterfell being put to the torch, he had been on edge, waiting for demands from the ironborn to ransom his brothers. It had already broken Mother’s heart when Robb told her they couldn’t rescue Arya and Sansa, but now she was simply inconsolable.

And why wouldn’t she be? Children, his brothers were boys! Bran was ten, just months before that curse had fallen on them Rickon still smelled like milk.

One by one, Starks were falling like flies, and what had he managed to do?

“Your grace?” a soft voice called for him, and Robb turned around in a snap of his neck.

Talissa stood in front of him.

Gods, it took everything in him not to run into her arms and lose himself in her comfort.

Robb had made a promise to the Freys, to marry one of Lord Frey’s daughters and make her his queen. Yet every day Talisa stood before him, and he wished he could just bury himself in her neck and forget his honour.

Was this how Father felt about Jon’s mother? Alone and burdened with responsibilities, with a distant woman he couldn’t remember the face of waiting for him far, far away, while another stood right in front of him, offering her chest for him to lay on, her lips for him to kiss.

“Forgive me,” Talisa apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Robb waved his hand dismissively.

“What is it?”

Was it a letter? A man sent to discuss the terms of his brothers' freedom? Anything to counter the every second of quiet reassurance that his little brothers had indeed perished?

“Your mother has slept,” she informed him.

He breathed out.

Good. She needed her rest. His men were still angry over her decision to release the Kingslayer. Maybe this news would help them see her for what she truly was—a desperate mother.

“Do you wish me to bring you something?” she offered. “Maybe some tea?”

Robb shook his head.

“No, thank you,” he breathed out. “I would like to be left alone.”

It was best that she wasn’t around to tempt his mind. Robb already felt weak enough.

Talisa curtsied quickly, stepping away. He could feel her eyes lingering on him before she finally left, closing the door behind her.

Robb pinched his nose, trying to blink the tears from his eyes.

They could have escaped. Their allies were strong and faithful; they would not turn their backs on children. Robb would hear of them soon.

But he had been telling himself the same thing about Arya since Father’s death, and no news had ever come.

Gods, if only Father had turned the King away, they would all be together now, and that stupid wall would play far away from them.

He stood and walked to his bed—the best room in the castle, they said. Yet it felt just as haunted and desolate as every other corner of it.

Robb set down his candle and curled up in his furs, trying not to feel like a child in the oppressive darkness as he closed his eyes. Yet sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned, side to side, as the candle by his bed endured, the only source of light in the room.

He punched his pillow, grunting in displeasure. He should have accepted the tea; it might have quieted his mind enough to rest.

Robb sat up, and a distant sound caught his ear, and he squeezed his eyes.

Mother.

Her wails grew in desperation, freezing Robb’s bones. He grabbed his robe and the candle, rushing out of his room, the cold stone floors chilling his feet and the sounds of her cries grew as he entered the corridor.

Robb pushed her door open, and she was on the floor, sobbing into her hands, her face stained with blood and tears.

He gasped, running to her side and taking her hands.

Her wounds… had they reopened? They were already scars!

“My sons,” she cried. “I’ve lost them.”

Robb shook his head, tugging on his robe, trying to rip some peace to cover her hurt hands.

“Mother-”

But her eyes moved to his face, sharp and cold like he’d only seen her looking at Jon.

“Because of you,” she hissed, pushing him away. “My sons are dead because of you!”

Mother pushed him again, and Robb fell back, weakened by confusion.

“My daughters are prisoners because of you!” she accused in a scream. “Selfish little boy, leaving your sisters defenceless while claiming that bastard as your heir!”

“No!” he tried to hold her.

She would only hurt herself more.

Mother slapped his chest with both hands, her bloodstained palms marking his skin, feeling like stabs as he fell to the cold floor.

“And while I suffer, you lust after a woman like your father did,” Mother accused him, her bloodied tears falling down her cheeks and falling on his face. “Putting a spoil of war above your honour! Above your blood!”

He couldn’t even move for a moment, frozen by the shock as she stood, her body wavering like a leaf caught in a winter gale, her cries rising once more.

“Because of you,” she wailed, stepping into the darkness.

“Mother!” he pleaded, scrambling to his feet, desperate to reach her before she disappeared.

But it was futile; she vanished into the shadows, leaving him alone in the encroaching dark.

Robb sprang to his feet, the cool wind slicing through the night and making him shiver. Yes, he was a man of the North, but it was like the castle was made of ice itself.

“Mother,” he called, his voice trembling with a fear he thought he had left behind when he stopped being just a boy. “It’s dangerous here at night. Please, come back!”

He stepped through the dark corridors, but the passageways seemed to stretch endlessly, an eerie silence enveloping him, only interrupted by his footsteps.

“Mother!” he shouted, his voice cracking like when he was just green.

“Robb?” A faint, chilling voice echoed through the walls.

He felt everything in his core chilling.

That wasn’t…

What was…

It couldn’t be.

A clap of thunder roared outside and he turned sharply, seeing a distant light somewhere in the depths of the path.

“Who is there?” he called out.

The little voice echoed again, distant and faint, weaving a melody he couldn’t understand.

He followed it, nearly suffocating as the darkness thickened enough to be felt but he persisted, pushing the door of the room in front of him open.

Robb could have mistaken her for Mother for a moment, with her long auburn hair draped over her shoulders, falling over her back in waves, lit by the hearth.

But she was too small to be his mother, thin and curved over a long grey cloth.

“Sansa,” he whispered.

But his little sister didn’t raise her head from her work.

“I only have a night,” she murmured, her voice hollow and resigned. “I only have a night and they’ll take her.”

He swallowed, stumbling as he walked to her, not understanding.

“They’ll take mother?” Robb asked, lowering himself to her side.

Sansa turned to him, her lower lip trembling, her light blue eyes splotchy and red-rimmed from crying.

Was she always this small? He had grown so much during his campaign, but Sansa was still just thirteen, his sweet sister was just a tiny girl.

Her eyes glistened with tears, and she squeezed the cloth tightly in her hands, her knuckles white from the strain.

“We waited,” she whimpered. “We waited for you, Robb. They said you would come to rescue us.”

Robb panted, desperate to reach her, to comfort her, but his hands passed through her like mist. He looked at her hands, and the light grey fabric was stained maroon everywhere, the intricate embroidery of dead wolves in white marred with drops of red.

Her fingers bled as she held the needle, her movements mechanical and relentless, tears mingling with her work.

“Will you forgive me?” Sansa pleaded, her voice choked and raw. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you abandon us?”

Robb shook his head, desperate.

“No,” he grabbed the fabric. “You’ve- you’ve done nothing, Sansa!”

But she continued to sob, her thin body trembling as she cried over the bloodied fabric.

“I wrote the letter!” she cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt.

The letter? No, did she think-

No!

“No!” Robb said firmly. “I know the Queen made you do that.”

Yet his little sister rocked back and forth, sobbing and working, crying and bleeding onto the fabric.

“I wanted to come to this place,” she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “If I wasn’t a stupid girl, nothing would have happened, she would be safe.”

“You’re not!” Robb cried out, fighting against her words. “You’re a child. You’re defenceless.”

“I tried to keep her safe,” Sansa’s voice was barely a whisper, consumed by grief. “I tried to be a good sister, Robb, I did.”

“I know,” he said, trying to soothe her.

“They mocked us,” she sniffed, her voice trembling. “How we waited, how we prayed and hoped… but she couldn’t… Arya didn’t…”

She shook her head, and he tried to grab onto her hands, but they slipped through his grasp.

“Where’s Arya?” he realised

They hadn’t heard anything about Arya since their father’s death.

The light in the room seemed to grow brighter, and Sansa shook her head even more violently.

“I only have a night,” she chanted over and over, her voice a haunting mantra. “I only have a night and they’ll take her away.”

Robbraised his head, looking beyond her, to the bed he hadn’t seen before.

Arya wasn’t like Sansa. She wouldn’t know how to be a hostage; she would never comply, even under Mother’s commands.

Arya was fierce and stubborn and a little fighter, but she was 11 and even smaller than Sansa. She would try to fight and to escape and she would get caught and they would punish her – or even worse.

He stood up, his legs trembling beneath him.

“I had to beg them,” his little sister whispered to nowhere. “I had to use my dress. But I have a night, she’ll have a shroud.

Robb’s throat tightened painfully as he swallowed hard. He reached for the candle on the table, the small flame flickering in his unsteady hands.

“Forgive me,” Sansa whimpered, her voice breaking. “Forgive me, Robb. We thought you’d come for us.”

He stepped up, trembling as raised the candle high, the light casting long, distorted shadows on the walls.

And there was Arya. And Bran. And Rickon.

They lay on the bed, grey and cold, with blue lips and closed eyes.

Robb’s breath caught in his throat and Mother’s wails echoed from all sides as his sister’s words became unintelligible whispers.

His hand shook and the candle slipped, falling onto the bed and lighting it up completely on fire, engulfing his brothers and sister. The flames hungrily devoured the shroud in Sansa’s arms as she continued her futile work, the fire licking at her skin, consuming her along with her mournful tears.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, his voice just died in his throat as he sat up on his bed, clenching his furs to his chest, feeling his heart beating so fast it threatened to leave his body through his throat.

A nightmare.

A fucking nightmare.

Robb tugged at his hair, trying to ground himself as he stood up, his legs trembling like fragile twigs beneath him. He scanned the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings.

It was just a nightmare. Dreams, nothing more. There was no blood, no fire, no shroud. The candle by his bed was barely flickering, its flame reduced to a sliver of wax.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and shake off the remnants of fear as the room darkened, silent.

The sounds of scratches by his door made Robb stand, and his sleep clothes clung to his skin in his sweaty state, and struggled to pull his tunic over his head for a moment, quickly tossing it to his bed as he opened the door, and Grey Wind walked into his room.

He closed the door and sank to his knees, resting his head on Grey Wind’s thick fur. hearing his breath as he tried to calm himself down, still.

Robb had his wolf, and so did Bran and Rickon. Yet, they had found no sign of Summer or Shaggy Dog—no fur, no remains.

His little brothers were protected, he knew that. His men would find them hidden soon.

But Sansa and Arya… they needed him. They had no one – Lady was dead and Nymeria was gone.

They were children, all of them. He was all they had.

But wasn’t Robb a child too? He was just a boy!

Everyone else saw him as their King! They wanted him to be glorious and strong, but he was no conqueror – and he wasn’t ready to be one!

He wanted to run to his mother’s arms and cry into her skirts with his head on her lap, to be protected.

He was terrified! How could he be brave in a state like this?

But Father had said it himself, hadn’t he?

The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid.

Robb sunk completely to his knees, sobbing into Grey Wind’s fur, trying to keep the sounds to himself – what would his men think? He couldn’t be weak.