On your marks, set– oh! A-Train! And his beloved black girlfriend; the reader!
Summary: A-Train gets help from his black non-vought-propaganda’d homegirl on how to rep the community. No notes.
Prompt: Black excellence help from an excellent black(woman). Hahaaa..
Warnings: lowkey might be rushed nas. minor cussing, biased toward black readers, lowkey spends most the time introducing them than actual romance
! Ellam Yua's Pod: I’m awestruck by the lack of A-Train fics, especially with a black reader SMDH. Y'all I tried so hard not to use the N word </3 if it aint clear im black but boyyy i need to ween that word up out my vocab
WC: 4.1k
The aftermath of a heart-attack was pain, fear, and apparently 30,000 calories a day. If you’re the fastest dude on the planet.
Eating 30k in fruits and veggies was a damn hard thing to do. So, atop of recovery, there was also binge eating carbs and McDonalds which sucked because it’s literal garbage. You can only eat so many egg McMuffins before you start to hate the damn things.
The absolute screwed-over-ness that A-Train felt was… diabolical, with no better use of the word. Regular check-ups at the clinic made sure his heart stayed pumpin’ and his caloric requirements were met, but eating all that sugar opened the door for diabetes, too.
He hated sitting and waiting hours to be seen by some silver fox with a clipboard to tell him he needed to eat healthier and remind him that he’ll fucking die if he runs.
A long exhale left his lips. He poked at the pudge around his stomach like it’d shrink and wither away if he touched it enough. He sucked in a sharp breath and his tummy along with it. The door clicked and he coughed his throat raw with a rushed exhale. The doctor was different this time. No grown ass white man with glasses that made his face look like a bad cartoon disguise and that stupid ass stretching cat sticker on the back of his clipboard that said “Keep on meow-ving.” Honestly, it’d be more clever if it was a cow.
Instead, his doctor was a young woman– no grey hairs in sight– with glowing brown skin and coily hair tied up in a bun. A curl slipped out in the back and brushed against her neck like a whisper. Her edges were laid sleek and even and she had clear lipgloss on that drew his attention to the dual-tone of her lips. The roundness of her nose suited her face and the pair of eyes that narrowed at her tablet through the bright light above her that reflected off of her blue-light glasses and created a harsh glare. His eyes flickered lower, observing her body now. She looked like your average woman, but at that moment, it felt like he had never seen anyone like her before. Of course, he’s never specifically seen her before. His head tilted slightly, bewildered by the bright pink of her shoes. They lit up. Aren’t Skechers for kids?
“Mr. A-Train.” Her tone was surprised. She seemed startled when he looked back at her face. She looked too young to be a doctor, but Viola is 58 going on 30, so. “What a.. A surprise– I should go get a doctor.”
“You aren’t one?” He asked, stopping you in your tracks. “Well, I figured as much.”
“I’m a student.” You explained hastily. The room quickly became awkward as your eyes trailed over his body, specifically his suit. Oh goodness. The suit. “I wasn’t aware I’d be dealing with such an important patient. This is my first internship.”
“I’m only here for a check-up. I trust you.” He scooched back on the exam table which was pretty awkward. The paper crinkled up and tore and rode up the bed. He grimaced and finally sat still.
“All right. Well, it’s an honor to meet you, A-Train.”
“Please, call me Reggie.” He cracked a grin, though. The fangirls never got old. Clearly he’s still pretty tight with the black crowd.
“Then it’s my pleasure, Reggie.” She put down her tablet after reading another line and removed her blue light glasses, setting them down over the now black screen. “It looks like your exam will be quick today. You’ve been keeping up with yourself.”
He audibly scoffed at that. Your brow cocked, and he waved it off with a dismissive hand to signal it was nothing. He watched you search the office for gloves and he debated telling you that they were in the drawer right to the sink. But he didn’t have to, you’d found them soon enough.
Once gloved and sanitized, you wheeled over the blood pressure machine and staggered in your steps wheeling the thing away to replace it with a stethoscope.
“Shouldn’t someone be watching you right now?” He asked. The question was more empathetic for your nervous fumbling, likely amplified by the fact that you were currently nursing your favorite hero. The force it took to remain professional was a force, all right.
“Yes. Technically.” You nodded your head and sighed. He sat up straight as you pressed the stethoscope to his chest. “But you know how it is in this economy. Deep breath in.”
He inhaled until his lungs couldn’t hold anymore air and exhaled on your call. The process repeated until you were satisfied and let him know that everything was fine, just some palpitations when he took his third deep breath. Likely due to the lifestyle changes. Believe it or not, that wasn’t as reassuring as one might think.
You told him not to worry as you strapped the blood pressure monitor around his arm. And strapped it again because you were bothered by the asymmetry.
“So, what are you studying?” He asked when the quiet got too loud. Well. When the sound of velcro got too loud.
“Uhm, nursing.” You replied, finally just sticking the damn thing and oh-welling it. You clipped the pulse ox on his index and turned on the machine. “But I already studied. I just got my license.”
“That’s good. We need more nurses.” He gave an approving nod.
“Everyone says that.” You shook your head with an amused smile. “Ever since I was a kid.”
“Yeah, well, it’s true.” Reggie looked at your smile, the way it curved your lips and your eyes narrowed just slightly. “You know, nurses don’t get enough credit.”
“That’s true.” He hadn’t registered that the monitor had inflated and deflated in the time it took for the two of you to talk and for him to stare at you like a creep. “Lookin’ good so far. Your blood pressure’s a little high, though. You been stressin’ out?”
“Nah, nah.” He shook his head immediately. “I think it’s just lifestyle changes.”
“Well, you don’t even need me here.” You teased as you wheeled the monitor and ox away. When you turned back around to look at him, your eyes drove over his body again. “In my professional opinion, if anything was stressing you out, I would suggest finding a way to relax.”
He felt a little self-conscious from the once-over. He didn’t let it be known, he just nodded.
“Hey…” He snapped back into reality by the sound of your voice, timid and a bit flustered. “I know this is way unprofessional, but I’m a huge fan. I’ve been kinda freakin’ out the whole time. Can I get a picture?”
“Sure.” he nodded, smiling wide from just the question alone. He leaned over into your side as you raised your phone, snapping a selfie with the hero and staring at it with awe.
“I’ll go get a doctor to check your blood pressure and other… stuff.” You walked over to the counter to pick up your tablet and blue light glasses. You put the latter on and typed something on the device. “You know. Medical stuff.”
“Thanks.” He read your nametag before you walked away and stored it in his memory. “It was nice meeting you. Hope to see you as an RN next time.”
“Thank you.” Your voice faded as you left the room, though you had turned back to flash a smile that made his heart stutter. In a good way this time.
The next time you encountered A-Train was after the whole rebrand fiasco was over. He’s able to run again thanks to that racist white dude’s heart transplant. Honestly, after hearing who the donor was and hearing about that shit-show apology through family friends, it turned you off from A-Train as a whole. But he had come to the clinic for a check-up off the clock.
You walked into the room, saw his face, and your smile dropped. Honestly– nobody was in the mood to look at his face after catering to the white folks. All that cultural begging he did just to turn around and grovel for a modern day Jon Burge.
“You got some nerve comin’ up in here.” You didn’t settle like you usually would. In fact, you hadn’t even closed the door. “You better get the fuck out my face.”
“I know.” He grimaced at the anger in your voice. “I don’t usually hear direct anger from the masses.”
“Yeah, well, you should read your comments on instagram.”
A-Train stared at his feet like a punished child. Eventually, he did look up after the door clicked shut. You hadn’t left and gotten another nurse.
“You said the next time you saw me, you hoped I’d be a nurse.” You said, setting down your clipboard and sitting in the swivel chair. “What’s up? ‘Nother exam?”
He nodded his head, suddenly mute under your gaze.
“I see you dropped that suit.” You put on sterile gloves and walked over to the monitor. “It was busted anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone said.”
You eyed him for a moment, let go of the monitor, and walked over with the stethoscope to listen to his lungs first. He watched your expression again this time. Not much had changed in six months, aside from the fact that you had more experience. And that you didn’t seem to like the A-Train anymore.
“You ain’t wanting to talk?” He asked, filling the silence once you went to grab the blood pressure monitor.
“Unless it’s medical concerns, no thanks.” You gave a half-hearted smile and strapped the velcro around his bicep. “Relax for me.”
You clipped the pulse ox on his finger and turned on the machine. He did relax his body, but he hated how the tension made it so difficult.
“I didn’t have a choice, you know.”
“He targeted black neighborhoods and arrested innocent people.”
“I tried to fix it.”
“He attacked them because they didn’t accept his bullshit apology.”
“I just wanted to make peace.”
“”I, I, I!”” You mocked, listening to the sound of the monitor inflating. “He paralyzed your brother.”
A-Train went quiet. The next minute was silent and you read the machine to take his vitals down on paper.
“Your blood pressure’s high.” You said.
“Really?” He asked, feigning incredulity. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Your rebrand didn’t work because you went at it from the perspective of a white person trying to be black. Like the OJ of Vought. Oh, you know what happen when you fuck with them white people?”
“All right, man.” He shook his head and you quickly regained your professionalism.
“You try-harded it. Be real. Don’t make it hard.” You removed the ox and rolled the machine over to the wall it was on. “You don’t gotta be Martin Luther King. You can be the Dr. Dre. Or the Ice Cube. Or even the Will Smith!”
He went to speak, but you continued,
“Any kind of black man but Samuel L. on Django. And that’s who you was actin’ like.” You waved your pen at him before you got to writing.
“Can I get your number?” He asked after a moment of letting your words stew. You looked up at him, a bit hesitant, then nodded.
“This is probably unprofessional, but I’m your nurse, not your doctor.”
“Why is that?”
“What do I look like wasting my best years to grow grey hairs before I’m 30?” You scoffed, writing down your number on the paper and handing it to him. “Hm. Don’t lose it.”
He nodded his head, glancing down at the phone in your pocket before looking back up at you.
“I wouldn’t. Maybe you can teach me to be the 2Pac of Supes.”
“Don’t push it. Nobody can be Makaveli.” You waved him off, but he was just happy to see your smile. He didn’t notice that he was smiling back until you shed your gloves and gestured to the door. “Walk with me, Reggie. I can still call you that, right?”
“Sure.” He stood up from his seat and opened the door like a proper gentleman. You exited first, and he followed at a respectful distance.
The next day, you got a text from none other than A-Train himself. It was a short request for a date. A sweet one, though. You had obviously accepted. Why not? Well… we know why not.
The restaurant was in a fancy high rise at the highest floor. It was close to the water, so you could smell the wet breeze when you stepped out of the taxi. If you were being modest; it felt way out of your league to be in a place like this. If you were being real; it felt exactly like what you deserved.
The elevator went up highhh. You stayed far away from the window looking out at the city. Whoever had the bright idea to make a glass elevator must laugh at people with a fear of heights.
You showed up to the spot in a sleek blue dress with a black pocket book. Your neck and wrist shone with faux diamonds, a matching set gifted by your mother for your birthday. Your earrings reflected the light of the restaurant, catching Reggie’s eye the moment you stepped out of the elevator’s doors and onto the polished marble floors.
The clack of your heels made Reggie nervous as you approached him at the host stand. He tried not to turn around too soon lest he embarrass himself by seeming desperate. You tapped his shoulder, immediately letting out a delighted hum.
“You smell good, Reggie.” You remarked. He turned to face you and broke out a large smile at the sight of you. A crown of coils framed your face, voluminous and puffy and undeniably soft. He could already tell. And you smelled like a sweet bakery.
“Thanks. You look amazing.” He said. He took your purse and the host guided the two of you to your table and went to retrieve a waiter. It had a view of the harbor. You always loved the look of water at night. “So… how are you tonight?”
You looked at him and shrugged your shoulders.
“I’m fine. Kind of hungry.” You said. He nodded. “I didn’t eat all day. I was waiting for this.”
“Yeah, same.” He hadn’t eaten because he was nervous.
The ambiance was giving. The moon was out and everything, not even a cloud was in the sky. Hurray for New York night time weather.
“Have you come here before?” You asked, hoping to make conversation and break the piano-lined silence between the two of you.
“No.” Reggie shook his head. He didn’t say anything after that. Your eyes flickered over to look at the water again, a slight grimace on your face. Did you just get an ick??? “B-But my friend has. You know, the Deep. He says it’s a pretty sweet spot.”
“You’re friends with–”
“I mean, not my friend anymore.” Reggie shook his head. Your grimace only deepened. He sucked his teeth, irritation replacing his anxiety. “I’m trying here.”
“So am I.” You gestured at him, “You gave me a one-worded answer.”
“Yeah, but I explained myself after.” He threw his hands up. “The Deep is an asshole. He’s not my friend. But when we were friends, he told me this place is good eats.”
You pursed your glossed lips and sat back in your chair. “You could have just said that.”
“I just did.”
You hummed to signal agreement and the vibe carried as it was. Awkward. At least until the waiter came and took your respective orders and brought out the food. You ate with little conversation, mostly about how nursing was turning out to be and how it was similar or different from what you imagined. The same topic came up for Reggie, but you asked regarding his job as a superhero.
The two of you left the restaurant together this time. He handed you your pocket book and you walked along the harbor.
“That lobster was good, right?” He asked. He was still staring at the path ahead, thinking about how that check woulda hurt his pockets back in the day.
“Yeah. It was great.” You agreed. Reggie could tell you weren't satisfied with the place. Honestly, if Deep is such an advocate for the sea, why did he rec that restaurant? Actually, he might have been bashing it. Nobody really listens to what that guy has to say. If you did, you’d hear how much of a dumbass he is.
“You’re still hungry?” He asked. He knew he was.
“Oh my gosh. Yes.” You sighed deeply, like the weight of breaking the shitty portions was off your shoulders. “That lobster tail had to be from a crawfish or somethin’. They are scamming. My mama made better pasta than that little bendy straw on my plate.”
Reggie laughed at your unabashed proclamations. He had no notes, he wholeheartedly agreed.
“Do you wanna get a sandwich?” He asked, side glancing the Jersey Mike’s a couple blocks over. “I been really craving a sub.”
“Yeah, but we taking a taxi, right?” You asked, because it looked like he was loosening his tie. “I’m not with that cheetah mess, Reggie.”
He scooped you up in his arms, eliciting a shriek. “Lucky for you, girl, I’m faster than a cheetah.”
Before you could protest, he flashed forward and you were outside the Jersey Mike’s in a blink. You eyed him as he put you down on your feet, one of which was missing a heel. You didn’t know if you were gonna puke or piss yourself. The city flashed before your eyes. He stared at your bare foot and decidedly removed the shoe that was left.
“You know, only wearing one shoe is bad luck.” He reminded you playfully.
“You’re paying for my new shoes.” You weren’t sure how to react than to just play it normal? How do you react? Either way, you meant that about the heels.
He nodded his head and lifted you up into the building so your feet wouldn’t touch the bare NYC sidewalk. What a gentleman. Your feet touched the cold linoleum of the Jersey Mike’s instead.
You ordered your usual sandwich and he ordered his own. Of course he paid for it. You ate in the restaurant and watched the cars pass by while you talked. Instead of the stiff conversation about jobs and work and employment– yes, all the same thing– you talked about your interests and what schools you went to, how you grew up, the stuff that actually matters. You ate half the sandwich before you tapped out. Reggie finished his and tossed the bag in the trash from his seat. You had to admit it was impressive.
You rewrapped your sandwich and put it into a plastic bag. Reggie helped you up from the booth and you gripped his hand.
“You’re not running me home.” You said firmly. “That was like flying in a plane with the window down.”
“I’d rather you compare me to black sonic.”
“Black sonic is knuckles.” You said, then paused. “Sonic is black.”
“We’ll take a taxi.” You held each other’s hands out the door and walked down the block until you found a taxi service to take you there.
The ride to your apartment wasn’t long. It was 34 minutes to get to your complex. Reggie paid the driver. You couldn’t help but feel good as you dug your keys out of your pocket book. A fine rich guy who pays for everything is any girl’s dream man. Your fantasy come true. Hell, maybe you’ll finesse him into paying your rent this month..
He caught up to your side as you unlocked and opened your door. Your apartment was on the ground floor. You turned to look at him, a curious expression on your face at the fact that he was still here.
“What?” You asked, pulling your door back closed as you faced him. Reggie tensed a bit, offering a small smile.
“I’m escorting you inside.” He said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.
“Boy, bye. You’re not gettin’ any tonight.” You opened your door and stepped inside, wiped your feet on the mat, then turned back to him. “Come here.”
He leaned over into her space and you leaned in to kiss him. He tasted like salami and provolone. No surprises. You pulled away, patting his cheek.
“You got something. Goodnight.” You hung your key on the rack and held the doorknob.
“Goodnight.” You closed the door and Reggie listened to the lock click. He turned around, stretching his arms up and out. He ran home, feeling like a giddy high schooler who’d gotten his first kiss. A good night indeed.
You didn’t expect your relationship with A-Train to escalate into what it was. Not anything too serious… Well, yes serious. Dating is pretty serious if you’re not a dick, but moving in together was a huge step in the span of two months. Reggie finally left the Klan rally that had become Vought(what the hell was that mess with the Nazi and then the addition of Soldier Boy?) and he wanted you to be safe, therefore he had brought you along with him and his brother and his family overseas to escape Homelander. You never saw the hype in the guy. But you usually pay attention to the black heroes anyway. Your heart ached when Sage joined the All American pissing match. Not that you knew her, but she’s a black woman. That shit is universal.
Anyway, it sort of felt like a never ending vacation. Reggie hated referring to it as that, but it felt better than always calling it witness protection from a power-hungry manchild with his dick in his hands. Oh, yeah. Hearing the stories from Reggie made you pissed on his behalf. That willfully inbred colonizer got on your every nerve whenever you cut on the TV and saw his plastic smile.
And that is why the Franklins encourage you not to watch the news.
Speaking of which. Reggie walked into the bedroom with an authentic Italian pizza and a bottle of white wine.
After he left the Seven, he had gathered everyone up and they went straight to Florence. Obviously with some layovers to shake any suspicion. Once in Florence, he rented a condo in the city next to all the good food places. Of course.
Reggie set the pizza box down on the bed and climbed in beside you. The ragebaiting news had been erased from your mind, instead replaced with the heavenly scent filling your senses as soon as he opened the box.
“Mmm.” You pulled the box into your laps and picked up a slice. “What made you think of moving to Italy?”
He glanced at you sideways, “you asking now?”
“I’m not judging. It was a great choice.” You took a large bite from your slice and hummed with delight. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
“What about your dad?” He asked proudly.
“Okay. Second best.” You corrected yourself with half seriousness. Reggie took a bite from your slice and you handed it to him instead. “I want to eat the crust.”
“Psychos like the crust.”
“Babies still complain about crust.”
He rolled his eyes, throwing his arm over your shoulder and leaning back against the headboard.
“What do you think about babies?” He asked. The hesitance in his tone was warranted, judging by the fact you stared at him like a madman. “Obviously not right away. Eventually.”
You relaxed. He handed you the crust of the pizza and you ate it.
“I at least want one girl and one boy.” You said, smiling fondly. “But I want a girl first. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
“A little mini me?” He asked. You nodded your head.
“I was real close with my mom coming up. I want that with a daughter.” You then shrugged your shoulders, “And if it’s a boy first, we’ll dress him up like a girl.”
“That’s not happening.” Reggie gave you a look and you reciprocated it with an equally challenging eyebrow raise. “He’ll be my mini me.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He snorted. Despite the fact that it’d been a long road to get here and be this free, at least they were here. And so far, there hadn’t been anything or anyone to get in their way. Not even Homelander.
Me opening the Soldier Boy x reader tag hoping to find a decent and normal fic only to come across Fauxcest and non-con/dub-con elements in most fics. I JUST WANT TO READ NORMAL SOLDIER BOY FICS. I KNOW DESPITE HIM AS PERSON, HE ASKS FOR CONSENT.
summary: As the youngest child and sole daughter of a respected Fire Nation general, you have been desperate to prove yourself since the moment you were born — so when Azula offers you a spot on a mission from the Fire Lord himself, you accept without thinking.
But as you end up embedded in the front lines of the war your family has fought for decades, you begin to question everything you've ever known.
warning(s): lots of fire nation propaganda as reader comes from a military family. implied/past child abuse, anger issues, canon typical violence, r is weird about zuko and azula and they are weird abt her.
**note: though this is a reader insert so while i wont be describing her appearance much or even at all, reader is a traditional fire nation girl meaning i imagined her like that while i was writing this, and she has hair long enough to put in a topknot which is described in many chapters because we are all about our honor here!**
read on ao3 | spotify playlist lol i dont have the email for the atlabeth account anymore so i had to make a new one
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Ladies of the southern court are taught to wield words like weapons.
Word Count: 4,4k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Even when he was young, Robb knew very well that his parents’ marriage was more fortunate than anyone else’s in the north. Many lords and ladies who were wed either despised each other’s presence or had a distance between them; only talking to each other when they needed to in public. Those who had been blessed with mutual love and respect seemed to have put a lot of effort and time into growing such affections, and though he used to hope for the same, it all came down to two options:
He and his future wife disliking each other or putting some deliberate effort into making themselves love each other.
That felt like such nonsense now.
Because he had been a husband for less than a week, yet he already couldn’t even imagine the possibility of not being utterly in love with her.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Robb tilted his head even though his lady couldn’t see him. “Or perhaps you keep moving.”
“I’ve been still as a statue!” she defended herself with a huff. “I’m telling you, you’re doing it wrong.”
Fine, perhaps he had been distracted just a little.
But that was more than expected, considering the state they were in. The room was hot –too hot for his taste, but his lady liked it that way— and she was completely naked except for one of the furs she had pulled up to her chest while she sat in front of him in the bed, hugging her knees. Robb couldn’t help but lean forward to press his lips to her bare shoulder, biting back a smirk.
“You can’t even see what I’m doing.”
“I can feel it.” Her hand shot back to feel the braid he had been battling with. “And it’s supposed to be tighter.”
“I tried to make it tighter, and you said it hurt.”
“Because that was too tight,” she whined. “And my skin is sensitive, you know that.”
“Did we not put that behind us when—” He let out a laugh as she reached back to push at his arm. “It was a mere question.”
She made a noise of disagreement, then took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
“Speaking of questions,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Robb hummed, still trying to decide which section of hair went above which.
“Is Jon by any chance sad that Malory left?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Because it came to my attention he was rather happy at our wedding, and he was actually talking to people.”
“It came to your attention even though you were drunk beyond words?” he taunted her, dodging her hand when she reached back to push at his shoulder. “I don’t think he is interested in Lady Malory, my love.”
“Is he interested in anyone else?”
“I doubt it.”
“But how do you not know for sure?” she insisted. “He’s your brother.”
“Do you know everything about Silas’ affairs?”
“Yes.”
“Is it not difficult to keep track when there are so many people?”
She shrugged her shoulders while he put a section of hair on top of other, then undid it and put it under the other.
“I have so many friends who were rather interested in him,” she told him. “At our wedding. And I was wondering, if his heart doesn’t belong to anyone already…”
“Sansa used to make me do this with three sections, not two.”
“This one is more difficult—so he has never fallen in love?” she asked. “Nobody has captured his attention all this time?”
“Not really,” he muttered, his whole attention on the braid while he pulled the two pieces apart. “But things are more complicated for him, you know that. Him being in love with a lady would bring many things to consider if there was any courtship.”
She scoffed. “The North is so different than what I’m used to.”
“I’m certain it’s the same in the south as well.”
“Not in the Reach, and definitely not in Dorne,” she said. “Besides, you’re telling me Jon simply decided not to fall in love because of the circumstances of his birth?”
He tried to untangle the knot of his own doing as subtly as possible. “Mm hm.”
“I used to think differently, but I don’t believe matters of heart can be controlled.”
“Not in the south perhaps,” he taunted her with a grin, causing her to look at him over her shoulder with a frown. “It’s not tangled, I just put the wrong piece on—”
“So you would not love me if we met and weren’t betrothed?”
A huff of laughter left him, but his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw his lady’s frown deepening as she pulled back to see him better, no sign of playfulness on her expression.
“Wh—no!” he said in a rush. “Why would you think that?”
“That’s what you’re insinuating.”
“I don’t insinuate things, we’ve been over this.”
“Fine, then you’re directly telling me that you would not—Robb!” The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a surprised screech when he grabbed her by the waist to pull her under him, a wide grin pulling at his lips. She bit back her smile and scrunched up her nose, trying her hardest to glare at him as he brushed her hair off her face.
“If we were not betrothed—”
“It wouldn’t change anything,” Robb finished her sentence for her. “My heart belongs to you, you know that.”
“But if, let’s say, your family had betrothed you to someone else, and then we met?” she insisted. “Would you have gone through with that arrangement?”
He couldn’t.
He knew he couldn’t.
Despite his upbringing, despite the honor and duty, despite the expectations placed upon him before he was even born, he couldn’t spend his life with anyone else but her. His life was already divided into before and after her, and the idea of spending his life with anyone else when she was the rightful ruler of his heart was nothing short of a nightmare, so he shook his head, looking down at her.
“Never.”
“Never?” She narrowed her eyes like she was trying to see whether he was lying. “And what of duty?”
He swallowed thickly, then shook his head again.
“It leaves the room when you enter.”
That seemed to coax a smile out of her, every sign of her anger from earlier washing off her beautiful face like waves of the sea on a shore. He dipped his head to brush his lips against hers, the sweet taste of her more enticing than air itself as her fingers curled in his hair, desire dripping down his spine and stirring back to life—
A frustrated growl left him when someone knocked on the door, pulling them both out of the haze.
“Leave!” he called out as she squeezed at his arm.
“Be nice!” she whispered, but then turned her head when the familiar voice of her maid carried into the room from behind the closed door.
“My lady, I apologize for the interruption but your presence is required.” Her maid paused for a moment. “It’s your father. He has fallen ill.”
Lord Greensted’s voice assuring everyone he was alright could be heard from the hallway even before they reached his door, which Robb figured was a good sign, but his lady was in too much of a hurry to even notice that. She rushed through the door and made her way to her father without sparing a glance at the rest of the crowd, crouching down by his chair to grasp his hand, her skirts fanning around her.
“Father?”
“I’m alright, my flower.” He pinched her cheek in an assuring manner while Robb nodded at his parents in the room, clasping his hands behind him. “I told them not to alarm you.”
“While you’re ill?”
“I’m not ill,” he told her and turned to Robb with an amused chuckle. “It’s your responsibility to pull her back from distress now, you know.”
“She loves you way too much to listen to a word I say, Lord Greensted.”
“But what’s happened?” she insisted, her eyes darting between Silas and Arys while Cliff squeezed Perceon’s shoulder like he wanted to remind him he was still there. Braxton went over to the window as if he wanted to get some air, and Silas cleared his throat.
“He got dizzy after breakfast—”
“Only for a moment.”
“And this is exactly why I’ve been telling you that you need to try to be healthier,” Arys pointed out and Lord Greensted waved a dismissive hand in the air. “So that you don’t get dizzy.”
“Maester Luwin is preparing something for him,” his mother assured her as Elinor muttered something in Alton’s ear that made him look over his shoulder, but before he could do anything, Silas made his way to join Braxton by the window. Whatever he said to Braxton was too soft and low for anyone else to hear it, and Braxton swallowed thickly, then nodded his head. “He says there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m also saying there’s nothing to worry about.”
“You’re not a maester,” she told her father before turning to Arys. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a sign for him to take better care of himself,” Arys said. “All this eating and drinking whatever you want, father…”
“Let me live, will you?”
“I told you it was too early to leave, Garmund,” Robb’s father said. “This is your gods giving you a sign.”
“Can’t they send a more pleasant sign?”
“Surely you’re not planning on leaving before you’re fully recovered,” his lady said and Lord Greensted squeezed her hand.
“There’s nothing to recover from, I’m alright.”
“Not to worry, we’ll keep him here until he’s recovered no matter what he says,” his father gave her an assuring smile. “I’ll put men by his door if needed.”
“Lord Stark?” A footman entered the room with Maester Luwin. “Lord Glower asks for counsel if you’re not busy.”
“Go,” Lord Greensted said. “Please. I’m fine, and do tell Lord Glower I’ll beat him on our next hunt.”
“Father, you’re not going on a hunt!” his lady insisted while his father chuckled.
“He’ll take it as a challenge, just so you know,” he told Lord Greensted. “Robb.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, father.”
His father walked out of the room, and his lady watched Maester Luwin give a cup filled with some sort of draught to Lord Greensted.
“He’ll be alright, will he not?”
“He just needs some rest in his bed, my lady,” Maester Luwin said. “That is all.”
“We should all leave you to rest, I’m certain the crowd isn’t helping,” his mother added, making Lord Greensted nod fervently.
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Come, everyone. Your father needs some peace and quiet while he rests.”
Once Lord Greensted made his way to bed, all the brothers left the room one by one even though Robb could tell they didn’t really want to. His lady stole a look at the door, then took a deep breath and stepped closer to Robb.
“I’ll stay.”
Lord Greensted heaved a sigh. “Blossom…”
“I’ll tell you all about the rumors I’ve heard at the wedding, father,” she said. “Every house of the Reach. You like hearing tales of scandals, it’ll be like the old times!”
Robb nuzzled into her hair, cradling her cheek in his palm. “Would you like me to stay as well?”
“Your father requires your presence, Robb,” Lord Greensted reminded him. “And you’ve heard my daughter. We’ll gossip about the Reach, apparently.”
Robb bowed his head with a chuckle.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, and traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “Send for me if you need me, alright my love?”
She offered him a small smile and squeezed his wrist. “I will, thank you.”
“Get well soon, Lord Greensted,” he told him before he kissed his lady on the forehead, walked out of the room and closed the door behind him to join Silas and Arys. Cliff led Braxton and Perceon out of the hall while Elinor and Alton stood by the corner, talking in whispers. Any observer could tell Alton was shaken, but the tension on his shoulders seemed to dissipate a little when Elinor lifted their joined hands to press her lips on his knuckles, a tiny smile flickering over Alton’s face. Robb averted his gaze immediately and cleared his throat.
“Maester Luwin is really good at what he does,” he told Silas. “If he says it’s not dangerous, I doubt it is.”
“No I know.” Silas bit inside his cheek. “I know.”
“He’s not used to northern food,” Arys told Silas. “And you’ve been here for a month. And he goes on hunts yes, but that’s the only exercise he does. With all that eating and drinking as if he’s still a young man, it’ll catch up to him eventually.”
“He’s not travelling until he feels better, I don’t care what he says.”
“Of course not.”
“My mother can tell the cooks to make whatever dish he eats back in the Reach,” Robb said while Alton made his way to them. “Would it help?”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Arys said. “That’s actually a good idea, I’ll ask Lady Stark. Thanks Robb.”
“Don’t mention it. I told you before, my lady’s family is my family.”
“Hey.” Alton greeted them. “Silas, do you know if there are any letters from the Reach that needs father’s attention? He mentioned an issue in one of the smaller fields, which one was it?”
Silas gawked at him for a couple of seconds in complete silence, then scoffed a laugh and shook his head.
“I’m gonna walk away before I punch you,” he muttered and stormed out of the hallway without sparing him another glance. Arys raised his brows while Alton let out a breath, then threw his hands up in the air in frustration.
“What did I say now?” he asked Arys. “It’s my responsibility to step up while father is ill. What does Silas expect me to do?”
“Showing any sign of concern would be a good start.”
“Of course I’m concerned!” Alton defended himself. “Have you forgotten he’s my father as well?”
Arys shrugged his shoulders. “Have you?”
It seemed like Alton wanted to retort, but then he changed his mind and stomped away from them both, turning the corner that led to the stairs. Arys clicked his tongue, then gave Robb a grin.
“Welcome to the family.”
“Listen, I get it,” Robb said. “I really do, but he does have a point. That’s what he’s supposed to do right now as the heir, my father would expect the same of me if he were ill.”
Arys heaved a sigh, then leaned back to the wall and stole a look at the end of the hallway Silas had stormed off to.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I can’t help but agree with Perce sometimes. In our family, the gods chose the wrong son to be the firstborn.”
Thankfully his father’s meeting with Lord Glover hadn’t taken that long. Maester Luwin had said Lord Greensted was feeling much better after the draught he had given him, so Robb decided he would sit with Theon and Jon in the yard until his father sent for him again. He was pretty distracted from the conversation while he tried to figure out when he could see his lady, yet Theon’s comment about one of the girls he had danced with back at the wedding snapped his attention back to them, his head whipping up.
“Jon,” he cut Theon’s nonsense off while Grey Wind and Ghost playfully chased each other in the yard. “Has uh…has anyone caught your eye at the wedding?”
Jon blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Theon danced with people, so have you.”
“Barely.”
“But the whole Reach was here,” Robb said while Theon leaned back with a grin on his face. “And you know, since I’m wed now…”
“What, that means I’m supposed to wed as well?”
“Aye.” Robb nodded while Jon’s eyes widened. “Your time is coming.”
“My time is not coming!”
“I don’t understand why everyone is so terrified of marriage,” Robb mused while Theon gave him an incredulous look. “It’s the most perfect thing anyone ever came up with.”
“Just over a moon ago, you were sitting right here and whining about your betrothal,” Theon reminded him. “You were terrified.”
“I was not terrified!”
“Do you remember his face when you asked what he’d do if she turned out to be ugly?” Jon asked Theon, making him let out a laugh.
“I’ll remember it forever.”
“And look at me now,” Robb said. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m happy beyond words.”
“We got that Robb, you barely let the poor girl out of your bedchambers.”
Robb ignored the remark.
“What about Lady Malory?”
“She’s nice.”
“Who was that other lady you danced with, Snow?”
“Lady Florys,” Jon answered Theon. “She’s nice too.”
“Come on, there’s no way no one was to your liking.” Robb paused, frowning at him. “Jon, is there…is there a lady already? Here in the North?”
Jon averted his gaze to look around the yard, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just because you’re in love, doesn’t mean everyone else has to be in love.”
“What my lady and I have is deeper than such simple terms,” Robb said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“A lot of girls caught my interest at the wedding,” Theon said and Robb grimaced.
“That’s no news, Theon.”
“No seriously, there was this really pretty one, from House Lyberr or something?”
Jon’s eyes caught something in the yard, but by the time Robb turned his head to see what he was looking at, the only familiar person in the yard was Silas who was making his way into the keep. Jon pursed his lips, then feigned a cough and stood up.
“I’ll find you two later.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have this—thing.” Jon motioned vaguely in the direction of the keep. “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”
He walked away from them without so much as a glance back, and both Robb and Theon tilted their heads at the same time while Jon caught up to Silas.
“We would know if he had a lady, would we not?” Robb asked and Theon hummed.
“For sure.”
“You think he’d tell us?”
“Even if he didn’t, it’d be very obvious,” Theon said. “He’d probably follow her around like a lost pup.”
Robb shrugged his shoulders and scratched at Grey Wind’s head when the direwolf stepped closer to him.
“I guess you’re right,” he muttered as Silas and Jon entered the keep. “I mean, when has Jon ever been subtle?”
Later in the afternoon he had to drop by Wintertown per his father’s request, and by the time he was back, it was nearly dinner time. He caught the sight of his lady talking to Wylla Manderly after one glance into the Great Hall—he was beginning to think finding her in a crowd was a skill he was developing fast—so he immediately made his way inside, gave Wylla an acknowledging nod and touched the small of his lady’s back. She was quick to excuse herself, a happy smile lighting up her face before she tugged his wrist so that he would follow her to a far corner of the hall, away from the crowd.
“You’re back!”
“I am.” Robb cupped her cheek in his palm and kiss her temple, her sweet scent like a remedy to the torturous hours he had spent away from her presence. “How’s your father?”
“He’s alright, but—” She frowned up at him with a pout. “Arys all but kicked me out of the room!”
Robb had to control the laugh threatening to climb his throat upon her petulant whine. “Did he?”
“Maester Luwin was being so nice, letting me stay there while my father slept, and then Arys came and said father had to rest and I had to leave. And I wasn’t even making any noise while he slept, I was just sitting there reading my book!”
The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Is that right?”
“And Cliff took his side.”
Robb shook his head in a solemn manner. “Betrayal.”
“It really is!” she insisted and huffed out. “Anyway, what about you? What did you do whole day? I asked around when I left my father’s chambers, and Sansa said you had gone to Wintertown.”
“My father sent me,” he said. “And hey, guess what I’ve learned before that?”
“Hm?”
“Jon isn’t in love with anyone.”
She tilted her head. “…Oh?”
“I asked him,” he said. “Which wasn’t even needed, to be honest. I would know if a lady caught his interest.”
She raised her brows, then blinked a couple of times and pursed her lips like she was trying not to smile.
“Would you?”
“Certainly.”
“So uh—” She stole a look around the room as if she was trying to find a familiar face before she turned her glances to him. “So no one at the wedding was to his liking?”
“He’s not the type to—no offense to the southerners in the room,” he added with a grin, “but he’s not the type to like a southern lady.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh.
“Very well. Not a southern lady then.”
Robb let his gaze slip to her lips, then down to the soft swell of her chest, pushed up by the tight laces of her gown. His hand found hers again so that he could drag his fingertips over her soft palm, his mind far away from the hall and the crowd, the memory of her gasping underneath him—
She dug her nails into his hand as if warning him.
“Robb.”
He gave her a mischievous grin. “I’m not doing anything.”
“I can see you doing something in your mind.”
That coaxed a chuckle out of him while he reached out to play with the small pendant of her necklace. “And what am I doing in my mind?”
“Something very improper.”
“Funny, I remember you singing a very different tune last night—”
She flailed her hands, her eyes widening. “Shh!”
“Or this morning—” He gave a laugh when she pushed at his arm and he caught her hand, pulling her closer to him. “I’m merely reminiscing!”
“My lord.” A servant approached him. “Your father requests your presence.”
Robb managed to not groan in annoyance before he found his eyes fell upon his father who was now talking to one of the few remaining southern guests. He had no idea who the lady was, but he nodded anyway and laced his fingers through his lady’s.
“Your father didn’t request my presence,” she reminded him and he winked at her.
“I could barely see you today, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
When they reached his father, he only gave them a nod of acknowledgement before he turned to the lady.
“Thank you for your kind words, Lady Bulwer.”
“Of course!” Lady Bulwer said. “May the seven give him rest. Jon Arryn may have had his flaws as the Hand of the King, but the gods know any man would crack under such pressure.”
Robb looked from Lady Bulwer to his father, whose annoyance flashed on his face at the mention of Jon Arryn’s flaws. His lady rested her head on his arm, a pleasant warmth spreading in his chest at the simple gesture, distracting him from the conversation.
“The King’s Landing could make a septon question his ways, and I for one believe as long as the Hand does his job, his vices should be judged by no—”
“Lady Bulwer!” His lady gave her a bright smile. “How is Ser Medwick? My brother talks of him being such a worthy opponent in the jousts, yet we haven’t seen him for a year! He’s alright, I hope?”
Lady Bulwer stared at her for a couple of seconds as if she was taken by surprise, and opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again and cleared her throat.
“He’s alright.”
“Ser Loras was asking the other day how long his vacation would last,” his lady stated. “He’s such a beloved knight among his peers, they’re all looking forward to his return I’m sure.”
Lady Bulwer let out a nervous laugh.
“He is,” she said and feigned a gasp. “Oh! I see that my husband is looking for me, if you’ll excuse me.”
She made her way to the other side of the hall, and both Robb and his father turned to look at his lady at the same time. She raised her brows at the sight of their quizzical expressions, then shrugged her shoulders.
“What?”
“What was that?” Robb asked and her lady rolled her eyes.
“I just don’t believe one should be throwing around the word ‘vices’ when her own firstborn and heir owes money to every single person in the Reach because he loves gambling too much,” she said silkily. “To the point that he had to be sent away to the Free Cities so as not to bring any more dishonor to his house.”
His father looked as if he was battling with a smile and his lady turned her head when Sansa called out her name.
“Oh I almost forgot, Sansa wanted to talk to me about her new gown,” she said and pecked Robb on the cheek. “I’ll be back. Have a nice evening, Lord Stark. Do send for me if anyone else from the Reach bothers you.”
She walked away from them, her steps light and smooth like a dance, the skirt of her pretty gown gliding on the floor. Robb felt a grin curl his lips and his father let out a chuckle, then clasped his hand on Robb’s shoulder.
“Your lady wife wields a dagger behind her words.”
Robb nodded, still grinning.
“She does,” he said, unable to drag his gaze away from her. “I think she is the best warrior in the realm when it comes to that.”
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Prince Valarr is disappointed with his betrothed because she is nothing like he imagined his future wife to be. Her tongue is sharp, her dresses are not humble and she seems to be carefree in a way he cannot imagine himself to be. His father makes him realise that young Lady Baratheon might actually be a perfect match.
𝜗ৎ no song for this pt2 pt3 : @novaursa
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Y/N Targaryen is dragged to the Ashford tourney to get her out from under Aerion’s obsession, only for Valarr to publicly ask for her favor and spark a feud that erupts into a brawl in the royal pavilion.
𝜗ৎ a disease named aerion : @my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your cousin by law long wanted for you. Annoying as that was, it was thought that his desires would simmer down as the years went by. Unfortunately, they had boiled over. One day when Aerion simply crossed the line, your husband snaps and reminds him whose you are.
𝜗ৎ how to not escape a prince : @lalalovelyly
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Betrothed against her will to Prince Valarr Targaryen, a homesick princess attempts to flee the Red Keep
𝜗ৎ I think I miss my wife pt2 : @lalalovelyly
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Four days without his wife, and Prince Valarr Targaryen is certain he is dying. The court calls it excess. His brother calls it pathetic. Valarr calls it devotion. And he intends to survive it. Probably.
𝜗ৎ she's my wife : @cosmictheo
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : at prince valarr’s name day feast, ser duncan makes the fatal mistake of assuming his terrifyingly composed wife must be another of maekar’s daughters.
𝜗ৎ steel and silk pt2 pt3 : @lilyswritings
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : summoned to the red keep to prove her family's loyalty a decade after the blackfyre rebellion, the lady of house peake only intends to survive court politics — becoming entangled with prince valarr targaryen was not part of the plan.
𝜗ৎ patience is a virtue pt2 : @kthologue
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : three times you tested valarr’s patience and one time he tested yours.
𝜗ৎ all creatures great and small : @thought-you-knew
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Valarr fell for your gentle heart and love for animals and insects. Until you wanted to bring in an eight-legged arachnid into your shared chambers. Or you discover your fearless prince has a slight fear of spiders.
𝜗ৎ weightless : @my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your dear prince has buried himself under father's scrolls recently, just trying to escape the heavy guilt of the incident at Ashford. You give him a night of indulgence to release all of his frustrations.
𝜗ৎ the untamed princess : @samstardust
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : He had never once thought of you in any improper way.. you were simply a friend, the keeper of his secrets, the quiet comfort he sought in troubled hours, the childish princess he adore. But the moment he saw you in that dress, something shifted; for the first time, he did not see a companion standing before him, but a lady… a princess of grace and quiet strength.
𝜗ৎ just a taste : @aeralux
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Valarr has neglected his soon-to-be wife, no passion in their political union. But one glance at you in your simple nightgown manages to completely unravel him.
𝜗ৎ duty bound : @westerosey
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : prince valarr knows his duty as baelor’s heir is to secure the targaryen line and its claim to the iron throne for generations to come. a pretty wife like you has only made the responsibility easier to bear.
𝜗ৎ pretty when you cry : @konalis
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : You saw the future. You saw that spring would be the last for the young heir prince, Valarr. On the day they buried the Breakspear, you convinced him to trade his crown for a life with you.
𝜗ৎ a line never crossed : @daiscript
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : you were delivered to the wrong dragon. bound in name, crowned in public, claimed before a kingdom that never asked what you wanted. what happens when the other dragon looks at you like the gods made a mistake?
𝜗ৎ the prince in the witches bed : @apelle-moi
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : A wounded Targaryen prince stumbles half-dead into a witch’s cottage in the middle of a storm, and by the time the rain lets up, they are already far too deep in each other to come away cleanly. He leaves her his ring, a promise to return, and every soft part of himself. She lets him go with all of it and keeps his blood.
𝜗ৎ a weekend at summerhall : @ange1archive
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : valarr takes you to summerhall to introduce you to his family and has to protect you from some gossiping old-money wives.
𝜗ৎ my love : @aryadelvich
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Valarr Targaryen grieving his father's death, takes all his anger out on reader as she tries to be of comfort to him.
𝜗ৎ american wedding : @rottenbites
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : as the presidents daughter, you have high standards to follow, none which include falling in love with an heir to the iron throne of westeros
𝜗ৎ dragon blood : @rottenbites
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : house targaryen; home of the dragons. even the young prince valarr — sweet, quiet, and poised, has the blood running through his veins
𝜗ৎ Valarr Targaryen x Betrothed!Reader : @daughter-of-thenorth
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : You find it incredibly hard to keep your hands off betrothed
𝜗ৎ more than blood : @dracaryshoney
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your husband might be the blood of the dragon, but you are a lioness. Consumed by hatred, you hatch a plan most unfit for a wife to bear… until you get what you deserve.
𝜗ৎ a night of longing pt2 : @spcncershybird
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : after a drunken night with you husband daeron, under the unknown gaze of valarr. the young prince's curiosity is sparked when he is made to go to the two people who may help him.
𝜗ৎ on his knees : @sedonasummer
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Aerion Targaryen has had a terrible day, and there is only one person in this world who can quiet the noise in his head. He goes looking for you. What he finds instead is Valarr, perfect, insufferable Valarr — and a version of himself he does not recognise and cannot look away from.
𝜗ৎ the rush of blood : @my-hearts-kickdrum-type-beat
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Young intention, green hearts, and uncovered desires are all attributes of a first love. Combine these with a late-night rendezvous in the library, a thin nightgown, and a steamy kiss... Prince Valarr loses all control.
𝜗ৎ a dragons fire : @mariposium
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : your new husband is the epitome of chivalry, especially when it comes to you, but he cannot quite divorce himself from his less-than-perfect family, either. when his cousin fancies you as his new target to publicly humiliate, valarr is forced to strike a balance between his head and his heart
𝜗ৎ forgive us our sins : @sylasthegrim
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Unhappily married to Prince Aerion, you are relieved when he is sent away to Lys following the Ashford tourney. In his absence, you and Prince Valarr finally act on your mutual feelings.
𝜗ৎ heart of mine : @chuluoyi
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : now carrying his child, your prince dotes on you with the devotion of a man utterly enamored with the woman he loves
𝜗ৎ odd one out : @princessbellecerise
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your beloved husband, Valarr of House Targaryen, is feeling insecure about his many differences from his family. With you being the good wife you are, you decide to take drastic measures to make him feel not so alone
𝜗ৎ pretty when you cry : @konalis
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : You saw the future. You saw that spring would be the last for the young heir prince, Valarr. On the day they buried the Breakspear, you convinced him to trade his crown for a life with you.
𝜗ৎ RUNAWAY LADY FROM THE ASHFORD TOURNEY : @sansaorgana
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your father-in-law forces you to attend the tourney with your husband but your politically arranged union is full of bickering, which eventually results in a fight with too many cruel words exchanged. After that, you get lost on purpose to spite him and you find missing Prince Aegon with his knight. Meanwhile, Prince Valarr is losing his head from all the worrying.
𝜗ৎ mutual hatred and other courtly traditions : @lalalovelyly
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Y/N has a talent for frightening away every eligible lord in Westeros, Valarr has a talent for reminding her about it. They absolutely hate each other. Unfortunately, they've also been in love since they were twelve.
𝜗ৎ spoken for : @twinflamedfool
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : It has always been Valarr and you, for he is half of your soul, and it will always be, no matter what Mother says, but to be cautious, you shall make it so. In a way no one can deny.
𝜗ৎ wicked games : @targaryenstar
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : it was believed valarr calmed the storm within you. but rather, you had evoked a storm of his own.
𝜗ৎ pretty thing : @the-darklings
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Your boyfriend Valarr Targaryen has been picture perfect for three months. When one morning he comes home from the gym sweaty, you crook your fingers to find out how far that leash goes.
𝜗ৎ sub!valarr x reader : @captainfern
𝜗ৎ the blackfire whore : @darktargslut DARK CONTENT!!
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : A conquered daughter of House Blackfyre is given to the Prince of Dragonstone as both peace offering and prize. Each night, at the hour of the wolf, she is summoned in his chambers.
𝜗ৎ needy!valarr x dancer!reader : @boyloveisnteasy
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : when your father sent you with one simple task — seduce the crown prince, the future king — you didn't think it would be this easy.
𝜗ৎ how to catch a prince : @valarrtheyoungprince
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : For Prince Valarr's namesday, all the ladies of the noble houses gather.
𝜗ৎ simulacrum : @amidstedenslush pt2 DARK CONTENT!!
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : After several moons of writing to your betrothed, you finally meet him.
𝜗ৎ love and death : @lalalovelyly
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : The love story of two childhood best friends
A.N: This is the end of Act I, my loves! 🩷 You have now read 148k words, so basically finished two books, congratulations! 🥰 Act II is starting on May 3! 🩷
And thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Harvest follows patience.
Word Count: 5,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Even with the small crack that let the light in through the haze of sleep, despite the pounding in his head and the exhaustion of last night, Robb couldn’t help but think that this was the most peaceful moment he had ever had.
At first he just thought the bed smelled like her. The sweet scent of the flowers surrounded him, making him feel like he was lying in a summer garden, and it was only when her hair tickled his nose that he realized her head was resting on his chest. He dipped his head to bury his nose into her hair, his arms wrapping tighter around her as he felt himself slip back into blissful daze, a faint smile curling the corners of his mouth.
However, that bliss was short-lived.
“Robb?”
Gods, it couldn’t have been five minutes—
She shook him by the arm, her whisper nearly frantic. “Robb, wake up!”
“Mm?”
“Have the maids already been here?”
It was with great difficulty that he managed to open his eyes, but the sight that greeted him was so dazzling that the answer had already left his mind before he could speak. She was still in last night’s gown—her infamous wedding gown that the whole North was going to talk about for the centuries to come, if the many comments that he heard last night were anything to go by. She was bathed in the warmth of the sun coming from the window and spilling through the sheer curtains around the bed, the moonlight still clinging to her in the form of her dress even in the morning, as if it couldn’t bring itself to abandon her.
By the gods, she was the most breathtaking vision he had ever cast his gaze upon, even with worry etched on her face.
A grin pulled at his lips while he reached out to run his fingers over her arm. “Good morning, my wife.”
“The maids,” she insisted. “Have they been here?”
“Only for a moment before I dismissed them.”
Her eyes widened.
“Gods,” she breathed out. “We—Robb, we haven’t…”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence for him to understand the root of her worry, any trace of sleep washing away from his mind. The fur covers pooled in his lap when he pulled himself up to sit in the bed as well, her eyes following his every move.
“They’ll say—”
“They’ll say nothing.”
“They’ll say everything!”
“They will not, because I already took care of it.”
That made her gaze snap up to his, whatever protest she was about to direct at him claimed by stunned silence instead. She looked down at her gown, then back at him, the unasked question making him scoff.
“I’m no wildling to take advantage of you at such state,” he told her and turned his palm up. “I cut my finger, so there was blood on the sheets.”
Her brows furrowed and she blinked a couple of times as if she was straining her mind to remember. Robb wouldn’t have been surprised if the memory had left her completely considering how drunk she had been last night, but he was proven wrong when a look of realization dawned on her face, her lips parting.
“Oh,” she said after a moment, coaxing a smile out of him.
“Come here,” he murmured before he pulled her to his lap, the closeness of her making his heart gallop in his chest. Her fingers caressed over his palm, her gentle touch barely there as if she was hesitant, but then she took his hand in hers to glance down at the tiny slice over the tip of his thumb.
He couldn’t have looked away if he tried.
She had to be a gift to him from the old gods; wrapped in light and warmth, halting all thoughts in his head with her mere presence. Robb swallowed when she ran her fingertips over the back of his hand in an almost absentminded manner, awakening fire underneath before she frowned slightly and raised her eyes to meet his.
“Did it hurt very terribly?”
Robb couldn’t help but smile at the genuine concern in her tone.
“You’re the one with sensitive skin,” he teased her, making her scrunch her nose up at him before he leaned in to kiss her, sneaking an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. It took everything in him not to flip them over and get rid of all these stupid, unnecessary clothes that kept her away from his gaze and his touch, desire burning through him as he slowly started to bunch up the skirt of her gown—
She pulled back with a gasp and turned her head to look at the door when someone pounded their fist on it, followed by his brother’s gruff voice.
“Robb?”
“Just ignore him,” Robb muttered, trailing kisses down her jaw and she shifted in his lap, making his grip tighten around her thighs.
“I don’t think—”
“Robb, it’s noon!” Theon’s loud voice from behind the door cut off her whisper, and Robb dropped his head on her shoulder with an exhausted sigh.
“Aye,” Jon added, “father sent me to wake you up. Theon is also here for some reason.”
“Fuck you too, Snow.”
“I’m going to kill them,” he muttered into her skin while she ran her nails over the nape of his neck gently.
“You can kill Theon,” she said, still a little breathless. “But I happen to like Jon.”
Much to his displeasure, she got off of him to walk to the other side of the room to grab her dressing gown and Robb discreetly adjusted himself, then pushed himself off the bed to make his way to the door to swing it open.
“Has someone died?”
Jon frowned. “No?”
“Would you like me to change that?”
Theon grinned at him. “Good afternoon to you too.”
“Father sent me,” Jon grumbled. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you two missed breakfast already, and the feast is starting in the yard.”
Robb gritted his teeth, then his eyes found his lady’s maid standing behind them.
“Eadith?”
“I just wanted to inform my lady that her bath is ready,” she said, averting her eyes while Theon stole a look at the bed, earning a glare from Robb who pulled the door closer to him so that no one could see inside. “In her bedchambers.”
“Thank you Eadith,” she called out before she pulled the door open. “Good morrow.”
Theon mumbled a greeting and glanced up at the ceiling while Jon offered her a smile, and before Robb could say anything, she had already walked past him and stepped into the hallway, making him frown.
“Wait, wha—”
“I must get ready for the feast but I’ll find you in the yard!” she called out and walked down the hallway to enter her bedchambers, her maid following her close. She closed the door behind them, and Robb let out a breath, slumping sideways to the doorframe.
“So,” Theon said with a grin while Jon raised his brows at him. “Judging by the murderous look on your face, I take it your wedding night went well?”
After a quick bath, a change of clothes and being all but dragged to the yard, Robb had already made up his mind:
This was nonsense.
This whole Harvest Feast was nonsense.
He was supposed to be in bed with his wife—who was still nowhere in sight— enjoying their marriage. He could’ve been in her bedchambers or even better, in the bathtub with her, and yet here he was, being stuck in a conversation with his father and multiple lords.
He took a big sip of his drink, his eyes darting around the yard. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, many couples were dancing to the musicians’ tune, some cheering, and some still drunk from last night. Perceon and Braxton were laughing at something Cliff was telling them, Arys was talking with Alton, and for a second Robb wondered where Silas was, but he figured he was with one of his many admirers from the Reach, still in bed.
“…and Robb will come with.”
His head whirled around. “Hm?”
His father exchanged glances with Lord Cassel, both grinning.
“Ease off on him, Ned,” Lord Cassel said. “At least for the day. You pulled him out of the south’s prettiest girl’s bed, he’s bound to be distracted.”
“I’m not distracted,” Robb lied through his teeth while his father hummed.
“Will your lady wife be joining us?”
Finally, now everyone referred to her as his lady wife.
“She’s getting ready,” Robb replied. “It takes her a while and we—we woke up late.”
“I’d gather she’s quite tired,” Lord Umber joked, clasping his shoulder. “As a husband of thirty years, let me give you some wisdom, my boy. You must let her have her rest, otherwise you’ll suffer during the day.”
Well he was way ahead of that, already suffering.
“Aye, she’ll make sure of that,” Lord Karstark said, laughter erupting from the small crowd. “Did you let her sleep last night at all?”
Robb rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh huh.”
“I must admit, I doubt I have ever seen a happier bride,” Lord Cassel chuckled. “Even my lady wife…”
The rest of his sentence disappeared into rest of the chatter when Robb’s eyes caught the sight of his beautiful lady enter the yard with Silas, claiming the air in his lungs without so much as a glance in his direction.
Just as she was the silver moonlight last night, today she was pure sunlight. Her gown looked like it was made of liquid gold, silk shimmering under the bright sun, giving her the look of a vision from beyond this realm even more than usual. The skirt of her gown was embroidered with wheats in accordance with harvest feast—and her own house Robb was guessing, since their sigil had wheats around the goat— as well as tiny flowers scattered along them. To match with the rest of her gown, she also had small golden wheat earrings dangling from her ears, and it was only when she turned to say something to Silas that he realized she had heart shaped braids on the back of her head, making his chest feel all warm.
“I’ll be back,” he heard himself say before he crossed the yard to make his way to them, his heart beating in his ears.
“So you’re seriously not going to tell me—” Silas stopped talking when Robb entered his sight, and his lady turned to him, a smile lighting up her face immediately.
“My husband!” she chirped with an excited lilt in her voice before she took his hand in both of hers, then leaned sideways to his arm. “I’ve missed you already I’m afraid.”
The whole yard was watching, but Robb couldn’t care less as he dipped his head to kiss on top of her head, his hand cradling the side of her neck.
“Good afternoon my beautiful wife.”
“I hate this,” Silas announced with a grimace. “Can you two not do this in front of me?”
“Do what, be in love?”
“I strictly remember your septa telling you it’s a virtue to be humble, and that you should not gloat about your fortune in front of those who are less fortunate.”
She tilted her head. “And you are the less fortunate in this situation?”
“Do you see me looking at people with love shining in my eyes?”
“I see a lot of people looking at you with love shining in their eyes,” Robb pointed out, glancing around the yard to prove his point, momentarily getting distracted by Jon immediately turning around as if he wanted to walk away but ended up bumping into Theon and making him spill his ale instead. “I doubt there’s a lack of fortune there.”
Silas blinked a couple of times, a slight frown pulling his brows together at the sight of Jon walking away. “…Right. Yeah.”
“Besides, we had the same septa and she also said it’s a sin to be a hypocrite,” his lady stated. “I’ve spent my entire life having to endure your wave of admirers—”
“I’ve been through worse, in case you forgot,” Silas insisted, “Ever since that title started being thrown around. How about your wave of suitors who kept ambushing me? I’ve been all over the realm to find you a suitable husband—”
“And to find yourself one hundred lovers,” she cut him off smugly while Robb repressed his laugh, and Silas shot him a look.
“You owe me, and yet you’re encouraging this?”
“My wife speaks the truth,” Robb said with a shrug of his shoulders and Silas heaved a sigh.
“I’m going to have to get drunk again if you two insist on calling each other husband and wife,” he muttered and walked past them to make his way to one of the servants who was carrying a tray of drinks. His lady glanced up at him, a smile warming her face.
“He’ll be alright,” she stated, swaying their entwined hands. “I didn’t make you wait long I hope?”
“Of course not,” he said, lifting her hand to press a light kiss on the back of it. “You look very beautiful today, my lady. You and your gown.”
A giggle escaped her.
“Why thank you, my lord,” she played along, her eyes finding the dancing couples on the yard. “Will we dance today too?”
“If you wish to,” he said and she nodded fervently.
“I wish to!” she said. “I must say hello to my father first—have you seen him?”
“He’s with Lord Manderly.” Robb nodded in their direction through the crowd, his lady following his line of sight, her father’s boisterous laugh echoing in the yard.
“I fear my father likes northern lords more than southern lords,” she pointed out and Robb grinned at her.
“Good,” he said. “They can keep him entertained when he comes to visit, you and I will be busy.”
Her jaw dropped as she shoved his arm playfully, coaxing a laugh out of him before he pulled her closer and they both started walking towards Lord Greensted.
It wasn’t that Robb was an impatient man.
On the contrary he was very patient, he had been the paragon of patience since his lady had arrived in Winterfell, but this was pushing it too much.
He hadn’t got to get her to himself the whole day, not even once.
First it was their families, and now, for the last hour, it had been the rest of the guests. On one hand Robb was glad more and more northern families were accepting her now that they were wed before the guests and witnesses, but he did not appreciate them hogging all her time.
“Father will be angry if you keep glaring at the guests.”
Robb lowered his cup to shrug at Jon while Theon plopped down beside him, then pulled a plate to himself to dig in. Jon grimaced, turning to shoot him a glare.
“Ghost chews quieter than you, Greyjoy.”.
“I’m hungry!” Theon defended himself and nodded at Robb. “And you’re glowering.”
“My wife has been taken hostage.”
“She seems too happy for a hostage,” Theon pointed out while his lady, who was surrounded by many other ladies, let out a clear laugh at something one of them said. Jon’s eyes stopped on someone over Robb’s shoulder, then he cleared his throat, shifting his weight.
“Aye, she seems like she’s having fun.”
“It’s our first day of marriage—”
“And you spent the last night consummating the said marriage, so you can wait a little.”
Robb chewed on his lip, keeping his gaze on his lady.
“Besides what else are you going to do?” Theon asked with a smirk, wiggling his brows. “Drag her back to your bedchambers in the middle of the feast to sheathe your sword?”
Robb’s silence seemed enough of an answer for both of them and Jon’s eyes widened.
“You’re doing no such thing.”
“Not like anyone would notice.”
“Everyone is watching you two,” Jon insisted. “She is standing in the middle of a crowd of ladies hanging onto her every word right now, in case you went blind all of a sudden. People would notice.”
“Then perhaps they should notice,” Robb grumbled. “Why are they still here anyway?”
“Because it’s the Harvest Feast.”
“I’ll rephrase, why am I here?”
“Because you’re the heir,” Jon deadpanned while Rickon crawled under the table with a growl, no doubt mimicking Shaggydog who was somewhere in the Godswood with Grey Wind and the rest of his siblings. “And you have to be here until it’s finished.”
“Well—” He sneaked his plate under the table so that Rickon could grab it, then started running around with a piece of steak in his hand, still growling while Robb got up. “If I’m to be here until it’s finished, there’s no harm in taking a break.”
“Robb!” Theon and Jon said at the same time but he paid them no mind as he passed Perceon and Jorelle who were dancing along with many others, then made his way to his lady.
“…and the children took up calling you The Shiny Lady,” Lady Woolfield was telling her, making her smile bigger as she pressed a hand on her chest.
“Really?”
“Oh yes.” Lady Berena nodded. “My daughter Bess, she already asked me for a gown similar to yours, she is enchanted.”
“Everyone is.”
“My seamstress is the most talented lady that the realm has ever seen, and my brother Cliff is a merchant who’s been all over the realm, he always sends me the best—hello my lord!” She beamed at him, immediately distracted from what she was saying. Robb bowed his head slightly, his chest tight with pride upon hearing her call him her husband.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted the others, then turned to her. “My lady, could I borrow you for a moment? Some news of importance requires our attention.”
Her smile faltered a little, a worried frown pulling her brows together.
“Of course,” she said and excused herself, her hand finding his as if it was second nature while he led her away from the crowd. “What’s happened? Is everyone alright?”
“Mm hm.”
“A raven then?” she asked as they both entered the keep. “Is it from the Reach or—”
The rest of her sentence turned into a squeal when he pulled her into a dark corner in the hallway, wasting no time to crash his lips on hers. A surprised gasp hitched in her throat as his grip around her waist tightened, but then she pressed a hand on his chest to push him back gently.
“What news?”
“The news that I missed my wife while everyone is convinced they should keep her away from me.”
“Robb!” she chastised him while he let out a chuckle. “Those were northern ladies, they finally like me!”
“They can wait,” Robb brushed her off as he dipped his head to kiss her neck, making her let out a breath before she pushed him back again.
“I’m a lady, in case it escaped you,” she whispered. “I will not be—be pulled to corners for…”
He grinned at her. “For what?”
“You know for what!”
“You wound me,” Robb said, clutching at his chest as if she just stabbed him. “I’m not pulling you to corners for that.”
“No?”
“No, I’m pulling you to our bedchambers,” he said and grabbed her wrist to tug it, earning a surprised yelp from her before a laugh escaped her.
“My lord!”
“Your husband.”
She tried to yank her arm back with her full strength, leaning back on her heels like a stubborn goat. “We cannot just sneak out of the feast!”
He tried to keep a straight face, biting back his laugh. “Well, not if you lack faith.”
“Someone will take notice of our—” Her laugh echoed in the hallway as he easily pulled her forward. “Our absence!”
“So what?”
“It’s disrespectful!”
“Even better, maybe they’ll leave if they find us disrespectful—”
“Robb.”
His father’s voice snapped both of them out of it, his lady’s head whipping around, her eyes widening. Robb made a face, then turned his head to look at his father, slowly letting go of his lady’s wrist as she stepped to stand beside him, offering his father that perfect courtier smile he had seen multiple times on Silas.
“Lord Stark!” she said breathlessly while Robb grasped the silk skirt of her gown so that she wouldn’t walk away. “Good afternoon! We were just um—”
“Talking,” Robb finished her sentence for her while she nodded fervently.
“Something of…” She cleared her throat. “Great importance.”
“Aye, very important.”
His father glared at Robb, then turned to smile at her.
“My lady, could I have a moment with him please?”
“Of course!” She took a step forward with Robb still holding onto her skirt and immediately pushed his hand away, shooting him a warning look. She walked away from them both, her heels echoing in the hallway before she stepped out to the yard, and Robb turned to his father who was pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.
“Father,” he greeted him and his father lowered his hand to glare at him.
“Robb,” he said after a couple of seconds of silence. “I hope to the gods that you have many sons just like you.”
Robb shrugged his shoulders.
“When?” he asked. “It’s not as if I can work on making those sons, with the way I’m not left alone with my wife.”
His father brushed a hand over his face with a sigh, as if praying for patience.
“Is that what you want, father?” Robb insisted with a solemn expression. “Do you want our line to end? Do you want House Stark to—”
“Out.” His father pointed in the direction of the entrance to the keep, and Robb held up his hands, gesturing surrender.
“If I’m being blamed for thinking of our house’s future…” He started walking as his father pushed him forward by the shoulder blades, the same way Robb would push Rickon.
“You’ll be with me for the rest of the day.”
“I cannot,” Robb argued. “I’m a lord husband now, I have responsibilities to my lady wife—”
“You also have responsibilities to our house,” his father stated. “Since you’re so concerned about its future, you must be very involved with any possible issues it might face in the future. What better way to do so than listening to all our vassals and their issues?”
Robb threw his head back to let out a groan, then stepped outside with his father beside him.
“Come,” his father said. “Lord Ryder has news from the Rills.”
His father was a man of his word, which meant that for the rest of the day, Robb had to be stuck with many, many vassal lords and their issues instead of enjoying the first day of his marriage with his wife. Eventually his father had decided to talk to the lords in his solar—with Robb beside him— and it had taken such a long time that by the time they were finished, it was way past supper. Robb went straight to the Great Hall once he left his father’s solar, his eyes darting around the hall.
Where was his lady?
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jon getting himself a drink, so he made a beeline to him.
“Jon.”
“Ah, you’re back,” Jon said. “Where have you been?”
“Father’s solar, listening to almost all of the guests,” he said. “I swear, for a moment I thought he’d keep me there until the dawn—who are you glaring at?”
Jon’s eyes snapped back to his. “Hm?”
Robb looked over his shoulder to see what he had been glaring at, but he couldn’t see anything that captured his attention other than Silas talking to a knight, so he turned back to him.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked. “You’ve been strange the whole day.”
“I’m not.” Jon took a sip of his drink. “You’re the one who’s been strange.”
“With good reason,” Robb grumbled. “Where’s my lady?”
“She retired to your bedchambers an hour ago.”
Robb’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Aye. Braxton just asked the same to Cliff, that’s how I know. Do you—”
Robb did not even waste a second. Without another word or so much as bidding goodnight to his brother he crossed the hall as fast as he could while making sure he wasn’t running, but the moment he stepped out of the hall and into the hallway, he darted for the stairs. He jumped over multiple steps as he ascended them to get to the hallway leading to his—their—bedchambers and only when he reached the door he stopped, his heart beating in his ears.
…Now what?
He couldn’t just pounce on her like a damn wildling. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how hot the fire of desire burned through his veins, he knew he had to be slow. His father had advised him just yesterday at the wedding feast right before he made way to wake his lady up to carry her to their bedchambers:
“Do not rush things and scare her,” he had said. “Love requires patience, do not harm what’s blooming between you two in your haste.”
Not that Robb hadn’t already decided to let her sleep that night even before his father had opened his mouth, but that was valuable advice for the rest of their marriage.
Including now.
He was just going to ask her. That seemed like a good solution; they were both still learning to communicate with each other, and he didn’t want to push her into something she was not ready for.
If his touch scared her, then he had to soothe that fear before touching her.
Was he supposed to knock, or—?
He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, then shrugged to himself and knocked on the door before he pushed it open, his heart slamming against his ribcage hard enough to make it ache. He half expected to find her in bed but he was proven otherwise; she was cozily sitting on the soft furs before the fireplace when he stepped in and closed the door behind him, the warmth of the room surrounding him. She jumped on her feet, blinking fast like she was trying to pull herself out of her thoughts before she smoothed the skirts of her nightgown, a shaky breath leaving her.
Seven hells, she had to have access to some sort of dark spell; it was not fair for her to be able to make him speechless just by standing there.
The soft light coming from the hearth and the candles illuminated her sheer nightgown; the tiny stars on the air light fabric glimmering even in the dim room. Her hair was loose from any braids, all the jewelry and adornments from earlier abandoned except her favorite goat head bracelet clasped around her wrist. The memory of the very first night they met shot through Robb’s head faster than lightning, a warmth dripping inside his chest.
Though he knew she wouldn’t believe him, he found her the most beautiful like this; in her nightgown, simply her.
Simply his.
His voice was hoarse with desire when he spoke: “My lady.”
Hesitation flashed over her face before she managed to give him a mischievous smile, then her fingers grasped the side of her skirt, the thin fabric shining with the light of the flames behind her before she gave him the courtliest curtsy.
“My lord,” she greeted him back and straightened up, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to read his mind. Robb had to command in his head that he was not supposed to rush to her, so he ended up taking agonizingly slow steps while he crossed the room, the crackling of the burning wood echoing in the silence of the room. She gulped, shifting her weight.
“You—you don’t mind I hope,” she stammered, vaguely motioning at the fireplace. “The maids lit it but it still felt rather cold, so I…I made it bigger, the fire.”
He tilted his head. “You know how?”
“I’m learning,” she said with a ghost of a proud smile that faded as her gaze fell on the bed before it darted back to his face, the unasked question as loud as a scream between them. She nibbled on her lip, then took another trembling breath, her fingers grasping the skirt of her gown.
“Should I, um—”
“Would you like some wine?” he cut her off as soon as the bottle and the goblets on the small table caught his attention. She blinked a couple of times like he had asked the most confusing question before nodding her head vigorously.
“That’d be lovely, thank you.”
“Sit, I’ll bring it.” Robb filled the two goblets with wine, his heart still pounding in his ears before he made his way to the furs, then sat beside her and held one of the goblets out of her reach with a grin.
“Didn’t eat anything Arys gave you, did you?”
“Gods no.” She huffed out a nervous laugh. “I’m planning to stay away from what he brought me unless the situation is dire.”
Her hand was slightly shaky as she took the goblet from him, then took a huge sip before she lowered it to steal a glance at him. Robb took it as a sign to sip his wine as well, the tart taste burning its way down his throat.
“Thank you, by the way,” she rasped out, making him turn his head. “For earlier.”
“Earlier?”
“The sheets. That was a…” she trailed off, “strangely southern way of thinking.”
A small smirk curled his lips. “I’m learning.”
That managed to coax a small giggle out of her before she downed her wine and put the empty goblet down. He could swear she was able to hear his heartbeat, perhaps the whole castle was, with the way it echoed in his head.
Slow.
He had to be slow.
He had to be slow and gentle and not scare her off, no matter how beautiful she was just sitting there, the orange flames from the fireplace illuminating half of her face.
He swallowed thickly, then put his goblet aside before reaching out to brush his fingertips over her bare shoulder. The thin strap of her nightgown slipped down a little as he leaned in press a chaste kiss on her shoulder, her sweet scent wrapping itself around him and pulling him deeper under her spell.
Go slow.
Go slow.
Go fucking slow, Stark.
“My lady—”
Her breath was a gentle caress on his temple: “Your wife.”
“I will not touch you unless I’m given leave,” he managed to murmur through the haze of desire, nuzzling into her shoulder before lifting his head to look at her. “Am I given leave?”
He didn’t know what it was, nor would he have been able to describe it later on had someone asked, but something in her expression shifted. Gone was the worry pinching her brows, and the hesitance swirling behind her eyes just a second ago, melting into something much lovelier, much softer. Her hand came up to cradle his cheek, a genuine smile, brighter than the sun and the moon and the stars, lighting up her face before she nodded, then leaned in to kiss him.
He had tried, he really had, but the feeling of her lips was more than enough to wash away any thought from his mind. If he were able to think he would’ve realized he was supposed to take her to the bed, but somehow what he was supposed to do held no power against what he was feeling, not when she was in his arms, not when he finally could kiss her, not when—
Not when she was his, completely.
How was it that every time they kissed it felt like the first time?
He leaned over her, resting a hand on the floor as he laid her down on the furs and settled between her legs. Her fingers curled over his shoulders before she tugged at his shirt with a small whine, and he pulled it off to throw it somewhere in the room, his heart leaping to meet her palm where it belonged, her touch awakening goosebumps on his skin. He was nearly dizzy as the familiar fire made its way down, his hands slipping from the soft swell of her chest to her waist before squeezing her hips but her breath hitched in her throat when he blindly reached down to bunch up the skirt of her gown. He buried his nose into the crook of her neck, intoxicated by her sweet scent.
“We have unfinished business, wife.” He smirked against her skin. “From two nights ago.”
“But my skin is sensitive!” She giggled, coaxing a chuckle out of him as he pulled back to look down at her, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb when she pouted. “You have a beard, it’d be uncomfortable.”
He grinned before leaning down to brush his lips against hers.
“Is it uncomfortable when I kiss you here then?”
A pleasant sigh left her. “…No.”
“And here?”
She shook her head, her hands shooting up to cover her face to muffle her giggle while he kissed his way down. He gently pulled them off of her face before lacing his fingers with hers, and she buried her other hand into his hair as if she wanted to soothe herself, playing with his curls.
“None of that,” he murmured. “Don’t deny me the sight of you.”
Then, without wasting another second, he lowered his head to kiss her right where he wanted to, taking her breath away.
A.N: My loves, you're absolutely amazing, thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Weddings can be very chaotic.
Word Count: 9k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, getting drunk, a Borgias inspired scene. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
You could swear you woke up smiling.
It was as if the sun itself had decided to rise inside your chest this morning, too excited to wait for your maid to pull open the curtains to let the light in. You were quite certain that you were the happiest woman in the North—or in the realm, delight filling you even before you opened your eyes and sat up in the bed.
Your wedding day.
It had taken you a long time to fall asleep last night, first from the excitement, then thanks to Robb and his drunk midnight visit that made your face burn even now; what he suggested—
Well.
It had to be because he was drunk, surely.
This was the North, you were certain they didn’t do that here.
“Tell me it’s not snowing,” you told your maid who was looking out the window and she turned to smile at you, then shook her head.
“No sign of snow,” she said, making you exhale in relief. “All from yesterday seems to have melted with the sunlight too. I’d say it’s a good sign from the gods.”
A happy laugh escaped you and you stretched out your arms over your head, then dropped them.
“I’m to wed the love of my life!”
“Yes you are, but before that happens we have a very strict plan for today.”
You nodded your head. “Yes.”
“You’ll have breakfast with the family first…”
“Then go to the sept, pray to the gods, and then—” You thought for a moment. “I still feel like I should pray to his gods as well.”
“Your wedding is happening in front of his gods, you’ll have the time to pray to them.”
You heaved a sigh. “Alright. I’ll have breakfast, go to the sept, pray to the gods, visit Frost quickly—”
“My lady.”
“She hasn’t seen me for a whole day!” you insisted, causing her to pinch the bridge of her nose before she heaved a sigh.
“I’ll bring her here while you’re getting ready, how about that?”
“Oh that sounds better,” you said, “thank you.”
“Remember,” she told you. “The wedding ceremony will hold place when the sun sets, so you must be here in the afternoon latest. It’ll take us hours and hours.”
You nodded your head again.
“The other maids will bring you luncheon, I’ve already arranged it. But once you’re back in this room, you’re staying. I don’t want you to try sneaking out to go see your betrothed while we’re getting you ready.”
Your eyes widened. “But Eadith, if I miss him during the day—”
“You’ll have all the time to see him tonight,” she cut you off and winked. “All of him.”
Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the heavy worry crashing down on you to poison the excitement in your chest.
The wedding night.
Gods, tonight had to go perfect.
Margaery’s grandmother Lady Olenna had always told you the wedding night would determine how the rest of your marriage would go. That was the reason why she had hired that lady of the night for you and Margaery, so that you two would know what to do to mesmerize your husbands on your wedding night completely, and so that you could pull them under your spell, ensuring that they would be under your control. The wedding bed, as everyone kept reminding you, was the place you could manipulate your husband and make him do your bidding outside your bedchambers but now that you knew you were in love, everything was much more complicated than that.
You wanted it to go great, not because it would serve your interests in the future and give you more power over him, but because you loved him.
You couldn’t take a wrong step. You couldn’t falter or fail. You couldn’t do anything that’d shatter tonight’s perfection because if you did—
“My lady?”
You blinked a couple of times, trying to snap out of your own worried thoughts but before you could answer, someone knocked on your door. You and Eadith exchanged glances and you shrugged, so she went to open the door.
Silas.
You furrowed your brows when he stepped in, a small laugh spilling from your lips.
“You look terrible!”
“I came back to the castle while the sun was rising.” He squinted his eyes at the bright room, then ran a hand over his face before fixing his gaze on you. “How do you feel?”
“Much better than you, I’d say,” you said with a grin and he came to sit beside your bed.. “How much did you drink?”
“Too much,” he mumbled and took a deep breath. “Are you sure about this?”
“About what?”
“Being wed to him,” he said. “Because we can just leave if you changed your mind.”
You tilted your head to the side. “Leave?”
“I’ve learned the secret pathways out of the castle. Say the word, and we will sneak out and go to the White Harbor, get on a ship to Dorne and—”
“Silas.”
“I mean the North is so far from the Reach, and it’s a completely different culture, I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“You were thinking of my happiness as you always do,” you assured him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “For which I’ll be thankful to you my whole life. But I haven’t changed my mind, nor will I ever. I love Robb, and he loves me back, and I want to wed him.”
“But…” He pursed his lips. “But are you certain?”
“Very much so.” You gave him a bright smile. “You’ve made the perfect choice, why are you sad?”
There was a haunted look in his eyes before he blinked it away, then smiled back at you.
“I feel overly emotional, can you blame me?” he asked. “It’s my little sister’s wedding day.”
“I’m a woman grown, Silas.”
“Yes yes, I’ve heard you the first hundred times.” He waved a hand in the air. “So then. If I’m not sneaking you out of the castle, what’s the plan for the day?”
Robb and most of your brothers except Alton and Silas ended up not joining breakfast. You weren’t so surprised, Robb was in fact pretty drunk when he came to your door last night even though he kept claiming otherwise, so you figured he would sleep the exhaustion off. You had no idea what time the rest of your brothers had returned to the castle, but if you had to guess, it had to be around dawn like Silas, or perhaps even later.
You just hoped everyone would be feeling much better and awake by the ceremony.
On other news, Robb had a point in saying Lady Stark presided over the wedding in a way stricter manner than Lord Stark ruled the North. There really wasn’t much for you to do except to get ready and be in the Godswood at the specified time; everything else was ready for the evening and for the feast. When you thanked Lady Stark and expressed your concern about whether she would be too tired from handling all this, she only gave you a smile and told you that you would understand just how not tiring this was when the time would come for you to do the same for your future children with Robb.
If your calculations didn’t fail you, based on all the tales about the war and Lord and Lady Stark’s wedding, Robb was conceived on their wedding night.
You wondered if Lady Stark expected the same from you and Robb.
Even if she did, this was peace time. Back then, during war, heirs were of crucial importance, a matter of life-and-death for houses and bloodlines. It was different now; Lord Stark was alive, there was no war, no impending danger,—the noble families’ never ending battle for more power aside— no threat to the realm itself or the crown, or the North. Besides, Robb had never so much as mentioned wanting heirs this early on, so you figured he wasn’t in a hurry.
You just wanted to enjoy your marriage, anything and everything else could wait regardless of others’ expectations.
After lighting your candle in the sept and saying a quick prayer to the gods, you stepped out of the sept, your mind still plagued with thoughts but you quickly snapped out of them when someone grabbed your arm. The small scream that left your lips turned into a giggle upon seeing Robb, and you let him pull you behind the nearest tree, your heartbeat speeding up as you leaned back to the trunk of the tree to look up at him. He cupped your face and stole a kiss from your lips, taking your breath away before he smiled down at you, a fond light gleaming in his eyes.
“Good morrow my love.”
You beamed at him, your face growing hotter.
“Good morrow,” you said, your fingers idly playing with the laces of his linen shirt. “You’re awake, finally. Any longer and I was going to come to wake you up myself.”
“Had I known, I would’ve stayed in bed,” he joked, making you scrunch up your nose at him. “Not too late still. Come to my bedchambers.”
“I cannot,” you said with a small pout. “I’m under very strict orders for today. My seamstress and my maids are in my bedchambers already, I’m sure. Every hour of today is planned.”
His thumb caressed your cheekbone. “Is that right?”
“Yes, I’ll have a bath first, and then—”
“You can have a bath in my bedchambers.”
You pushed at his arm, trying your hardest not to giggle. “Robb!”
“To save you the time!” he defended himself with a playful grin. “I’m merely asking you to come so that you can decide whether the room is to your liking. With your four poster bed and canopy with sheer curtains and such.”
Your eyes darted over his face. “What?”
“The carpenters put everything together while I was away last night, it looks like what you described,” he said. “But I think you should see it closer—the bed, to be exact, you should see the bed closer—”
“Are you serious?” you asked him. “You had them change it to my liking?”
“Of course I did, you said you wanted it,” he said, as if that was all the explanation you could ever need. You could swear your heart melted in your chest as you let out a breath, then pecked him on the lips before you pulled back to smile up at him.
“Thank you!”
He smiled back and dipped his head to kiss you again, but you pulled back and went under his arm to step away from him like you two were in a dance. He almost stumbled in his haste to chase your lips, but managed to regain his balance before catching up with you.
“Will I be able to get you alone before the wedding at least?”
You shook your head. “I’m told no.”
“By who?”
“By my maid.”
“By your—?”
“There’s so much to do!” You entwined your fingers with his, leaning sideways to his arm as you entered the courtyard. “I’ve made a very extensive list, and I’m still terrified I’ll forget something. I had a nightmare the other night, I was in the Godswood but forgot my earrings back in my bedchambers, and no one warned me.”
He stifled a laugh. “Disaster.”
“I know!” you insisted, then heaved a sigh. “Robb, can I ask you for something?”
“Name it and it’s yours.”
You could feel the butterflies in your stomach.
“I won’t have the time to see Silk,” you said, biting on your lip. “Eadith will bring Frost to my bedchambers, but I obviously cannot have Silk there. Can you take her out today? I fear she’ll grow restless if she spends the whole day in the stables, I don’t trust anyone else with her.”
A soft smile appeared on his face before he tugged you by your hand to pull you closer so that he could kiss the top of your head, making you gasp.
“People are watching!”
“They’re here for our wedding, they’ll be fine,” he brushed you off as you both entered the keep and ascended the stairs. “And consider it done, I’ll take her out for a ride.”
“Thank you!” you chirped. “And please make sure to give her an apple. A green apple, she likes green apples better than red ones.”
“Of course.”
You opened your mouth and closed it again, thinking over your question before you took a deep breath.
“Lady Stark tells me not everyone will be in the Godswood for the wedding?”
“The feast is a part of the wedding,” he corrected you. “For the Godswood ceremony, it’s going to be only specific people apart from our families. Everyone else will be waiting back in the Great Hall, at the feast.”
You hummed. “And the feast is as good of a confirmation as the Godswood ceremony even though they don’t see it?”
“Exactly.”
“The ceremony itself sounds rather simple,” you wondered aloud. “I memorized every step of it, but now to think of it, you are certain no one missed anything?”
That seemed to make him chuckle as you both turned the corner to your bedchambers.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know!” you insisted with a small laugh before you pouted. “I don’t know. I just—I overthink things when I’m nervous, you know that. I don’t want anything to go wrong, that is all.”
He stopped you, his hands cradling your face in the gentlest manner, making your heart skip a beat.
“Nothing will go wrong,” he assured you. “The ceremony sounds simple, because it is very simple. You have nothing to worry about, I swear it.”
You had a lot to worry about, he just didn’t know all of them yet.
You nodded your head, your eyes fluttering close as he dipped his head to kiss you again, making you heave a sigh and lean into his touch, nearly melting in his arms. You were certain that you were never going to grow tired of his kiss, and you had to repress a whine when he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with his to make you giggle.
“You might want to go in there before I change my mind about not dragging you to my bedchambers.”
You breathed out a laugh before you stole a kiss from him, then stepped out of his embrace despite your body begging you not to.
“I believe they are to be our bedchambers and not yours as of tonight,” you teased him as you walked backwards. “Since it’s decorated to my taste and all. Get used to it.”
“Get used to being there,” he teased you back, coaxing a giggle out of you.
“Sounds a fair trade,” you said. “See you in the Godswood tonight.”
With that, you dropped an exaggerated curtsy and entered your already crowded bedchambers, then closed the door behind you.
Eadith was right, getting you ready took hours and hours. You had spent more than an hour in the bathtub, soaking in warm water and flower oils that made your skin softer than silk. The real preparations began when you finally left the bathtub; your hair, your jewelry, your wedding gown and your cloak, they all had to look as planned. It had taken you a long time to decide on everything, but now that you were seeing all of it together, you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself and everyone else for their efforts.
You had chosen to abandon the intricate braids of the south and instead adapted the loose hairstyles of the north, save for two braided pieces that were wrapped around the thin crown of blue winter roses atop your head. Diamonds dangled from the silver filigree earrings in your ears, catching light whenever you so much as moved your head, much like the bracelet around your wrist. Though it was your favorite, you were leaving your signature goat head bracelet and Margaery’s gift on your vanity for the night, opting for a silver bracelet adorned with tiny diamonds you had custom made before you came here.
But even the most delicate jewelry couldn’t compete with your gown.
You had joked about it before with your seamstress. Back in the Reach, while you were planning it and coming up with ideas for your gown, she had asked you what you had in mind, and you had grinned at her.
“He’s a wolf, is he not?” you had asked. “Everyone says so. Then I’m to be his moonlight, for him to follow and admire.”
“Rylene,” you breathed out, gawking at your reflection while she fixed the back of your dress. “You are the most talented woman I’ve ever met, and I’ll cry for days when you go back to the Reach.”
She shushed you.
“This is not the time to speak of crying,” she chastised you lightheartedly. “Because I’ll cry as well, so let’s just focus on how beautiful you look, hm?”
You had no idea how she did it, but she had woven the moonlight into silk.
The gown itself was iridescent, many different shades of gray and the softest blue coming together to gleam in harmony at the smallest motion you’ve made, may it be your arm moving or your chest rising with your breath. To make it even brighter, she had spun a second layer; a net of pure silver threads as light as air draped over the gown. The soft fabric didn’t even seem like it belonged in this world, rather something that was gifted from far beyond, from the stars themselves perhaps, letting you borrow their shine for the night. If you weren’t the one wearing it, you would’ve thought it was a trick of light, too fragile to even gaze upon like the shy light of the moon who, despite being so powerful to rule the waters, had to retire behind night clouds from time to time to breathe in peace.
Your maiden cloak, which was decorated with your own house’s sigil, was only going to be on you until Robb replaced it with his own, yet you had made sure to stitch the small squares of goat embroidery Sansa and Arya had given you upon your arrival here on it. It was much bigger and heavier than the gown, but thankfully Eadith said she would carry it until you reached the Godswood, so you didn’t have to worry about whether it would make you trip or mess up your gown somehow on your way there.
“This is the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen in my life,” Sansa said from behind you and you exchanged glances with Rylene in the mirror.
“You’ll have an even prettier one when you wed my sweet,” you told her, and Sansa batted Arya’s hand away when she reached out to touch the skirt.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t touch it you idiot, you’ll stain it!”
“I won’t!”
“Mother, Arya is trying to ruin the wedding gown!”
“But my hands are clean!”
“Arya, don’t touch the wedding gown,” Lady Stark called out from the other end of the room and you smiled at Arya while Rylene crouched down to inspect the hem of the skirt.
“You can touch it once we’re sure Robb has seen it,” you whispered as if giving her a secret and she shifted her weight, her gray eyes darting over the fabric.
“Your everything is shiny,” she pointed out. “Your gown, your jewels…Even your horse.”
“Silk is so gorgeous!” Sansa added. “I saw Robb take her out for a ride earlier.”
“Oh, good!” you said. “I was worried he wouldn’t have the time.”
“No no, he did,” Sansa said and frowned. “Do people in the south ride horses after their wedding?”
“Hm?”
“I heard some lords say Robb was going to have enough of a ride later tonight, so he shouldn’t have bothered.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, your insides churning with worry but you managed to smile at Sansa, Rylene lifting her head from your skirts to steal a look at her.
“We sometimes hold jousts for wedding feasts,” you lied through your teeth. “Some southern guests still think we’re in the Reach and not the north, I suppose. They’re not familiar with northern weddings or customs.”
It was fine.
Everything was going to be fine tonight.
You weren’t going to mess it up.
“My flower, time to go!” Your father’s voice reached inside the room and Rylene fixed your skirts before she stepped away from you. You quietly thanked her, then tried to smile at Lady Stark who approached you.
“You look so beautiful my dear,” she said. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Actually, can I—can I have the room for a moment before we leave?” you asked, your voice cracking mid-sentence and she reached out to squeeze your hand.
“Of course,” she said. “Are you sure everything is alright?”
You nodded fervently. “I just need a moment, I think. I’m afraid I’m too excited.”
She gave you a knowing smile, then squeezed your hand in an assuring manner and turned to the rest of the room.
“Out, everyone.”
“Mother—”
“Yes Sansa, you too. You’ll wait outside with me.”
“But I could help!”
“You’ll help by waiting outside, come on,” Lady Stark said, and everyone in the room followed her, leaving you with Eadith.
“I know what you’re going to say—”
“I cannot mess this up, Eadith,” you said, blinking back the tears. “I cannot.”
“And you will not,” she said. “He loves you.”
“Right now,” you corrected her, pacing in the room. “But if I do something wrong, if I…if what I do tonight is not to his pleasure—”
“Not to his pleasure?” she repeated. “Do you hear yourself? He is too mesmerized by you to be displeasured with you, you know that.”
You shook your head, wishing for the thousandth time that Margaery were here despite how badly she broke your heart.
“I’m supposed to be perfect tonight,” you reminded Eadith, wringing your hands. “Everything that I do is supposed to be seductive and confident. But I—I don’t feel that way, I feel like a clumsy idiot who’ll say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, and then Robb will change his mind and he will stop loving me because he’ll be disappointed in me, and I’ll be heartbroken and replaced and—”
“My lady.” She stopped you, rushing to grasp you by your upper arms so that you would stop pacing. “You will not say or do the wrong thing. I doubt he’ll hear a word you say while you look like this, he’ll be too busy trying to get the prettiest girl in the realm out of the prettiest gown in the realm.”
“Lady Olenna would always say the result of desire had to be even better than the anticipation,” you whispered, stealing a look at the door. “I’ve been keeping him on the edge for a month. That comes with a price, his expectations must be high, and if I fail to meet them—”
“His expectations are just you,” she whispered back. “You being your sweet self. Which will be more than enough, I promise you. He’s in love with you, you couldn’t disappoint him if you tried. You’ll calm down, and it will go great.”
You fanned your face and opened your mouth to argue, but the idea struck your mind like lightning, making your breath hitch in your throat. Eadith raised her brows as you stepped away from her, then turned around to rush to the chest Arys had brought you.
“What are you doing?”
“Arys brought me herbs for everything, and I checked all of them earlier, I swear I saw something…” You opened the chest and pulled open one of the drawers to take a look at the pouches before you moved to the next drawer. “Because he knows everything about everything, and—there!”
You took out the pouch that was labeled “Relaxing the Mind” with Arys’ graceful handwriting, then untied the string around the top part.
“My lady,” Eadith warned you as you took a look inside the pouch, then took out two pieces of what seemed like dried pieces of plant roots. You popped one in your mouth to chew and swallow it, the taste making you grimace before you shoved the other into her hand.
“Keep it with you please,” you said. “If one doesn’t work, I’ll take another before we retire to our bedchambers.”
“I don’t think that’s wise—” she started but was cut off when the door opened, and Elinor stepped in to close it behind her.
“Make haste, everyone is waiting outside,” she said, her eyes finding the chest behind you. “What are you doing?”
You shot her a glare and put the pouch into its place, then closed the chest while Elinor leaned on her hip.
“What’s that?”
“It’s nothing!” you snapped. “Leave me be.”
“Aw, what’s happened?” she mocked. “Too scared to wed your barbarian? Now you remember there’s a reason why southern girls don’t marry into the north?”
You gritted your teeth and narrowed your eyes at her before you let a smirk pull at your lips, then nodded at her.
“How’s your arm?”
That was enough to wipe that smug smile off her face and you scoffed a laugh, then walked past her. Eadith rushed to open the door for you and you took a deep breath, then stepped outside and plastered a smile on your face.
“I’m ready.” You went to press a kiss on your father’s cheek. “Let’s go.”
The Northern wedding customs were rather different than those of the south.
In the south, all weddings took place in the sept in the morning, led by a septon. In the North however, the weddings were held at night by the torchwood, and the moonlight. There was no septon because the old gods didn’t have such structure, instead the groom’s father would officiate the wedding.
So, Lord Stark.
Gods, Arys’ herb hadn’t done anything to soothe your nerves, you were still shaking as you reached the Godswood. Eadith helped you put your maiden cloak over your gown before you clutched your father’s arm and started walking beside him, your brothers following you two close.
“You are the most beautiful bride in the whole realm, my dearest,” your father whispered to you as if he could hear your thoughts. “That being said, are you certain about this?”
You stifled a laugh despite the nerves. “Father, we’re quite literally walking in the Godswood to my wedding.”
“So what? I’ll start a war with the North if my beautiful flower has changed her mind.”
You blinked back the tears and shook your head.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” you said. “Nor will I ever, father. I love him.”
“I know sweeting,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand in an assuring manner. “He loves you too.”
You could see the light of the torchwoods and the weirwood, so you swallowed thickly, your heart slamming against your ribcage before you stole a look at him.
“Father?”
“Yes dearest?”
“Thank you,” you said, making him turn his head to you. “For everything. I know that you like to say mother would be proud of me, but she’d be proud of you too, and how happy you’ve made me my whole life.”
You could see the tears rushing to his eyes but he let out a breath and waved a hand in the air.
“Don’t make me cry in front of all these northerners my flower, they already think we’re not as tough as them.”
That coaxed a small giggle out of you and you nodded your head.
“Alright,” you whispered, catching the sight of Grey Wind and his siblings afar. “Alright, I won’t.”
It was rather strange, how almost every woman, for thousands of years, had said the same words and went through the same ceremony, but somehow you felt as if you were the only one. You knew the ceremony, you had practiced it in your mind thousands of times but now that you were here, your whole mind had gone empty, especially the moment your gaze fell upon Robb.
By the Gods, he was so handsome.
The look of surprise that settled over his face was almost too familiar; it was the very same expression of awe when he had first seen you in that hallway, on your first night in Winterfell. You could hear the whispers of the guests as your father led you to the weirwood tree, and you gave Robb a tentative smile that made him let out a breath as if he was in too much of a daze at the sight of you. Your heart was beating in your ears so loud that for a moment, you were worried all these people could hear it over the words being exchanged; with Lord Stark asking who came before the gods, and your father introducing you and himself and your house, and Robb introducing himself as well. Much like steps to a dance, you found yourself repeating the words in your head along with them as they spoke, and it was almost a relief to find that no one said a different word than what you had already memorized.
In a second now, Lord Stark was going to ask you—
Your head snapped up when you heard your name, and Lord Stark gave you a small nod.
“Do you take this man?”
Seven hells, who were you going to look at when you made your vows? You had forgotten to ask that, were you supposed to look at the tree or Robb?
You swallowed thickly and decided to focus your gaze on Robb’s handsome face, praying that it was the right move.
“I take this man,” you said, your voice not shaky by a miracle, and a smile curled Robb’s lips before he let out an exhale of relief. He held out his hand and you entwined your fingers with his, then you knelt down before the weirwood tree with him, the whole Godswood going quiet while it waited for your silent prayer.
I know I’m not of the north, you prayed in your head, closing your eyes, but thank you. For him and for this, thank you. I’ll try my hardest to earn your approval, I swear it.
You could see the darkness behind your eyelids light up just a little as if someone lit a thousand candles. The moment you opened your eyes, you had to blink a couple of times because of the sudden brightness, then lifted your head to look up at the full moon bathing you in silver. Grey Wind howled at the moon, his siblings joining him immediately while you stole a glance at Robb who looked like he couldn’t drag his gaze from you.
That was a good sign from the gods if you said so yourself.
Lord Stark cleared his throat as if he was giving him a signal, and Robb snapped out of his daze before he helped you up, and went behind you to take your maiden cloak off your back. You could hear the surprised gasps of the guests at the sight of your gown shining under direct moonlight before Robb placed his own cloak over your shoulders, then dipped his head so that you could hear him.
“You look very beautiful tonight, my lady,” he murmured, his smile apparent in his voice. “You and your gown.”
You had to swallow your giggle before you turned your head. You could now see everyone under the moonlight; Lady Stark was smiling wider than you had ever seen her before, Sansa was wiping at her eyes while Arya clung to Jon’s side with a small frown. Rickon looked rather confused at the reason why Sansa crying and tugged at Bran’s sleeve to whisper something to him but Bran shook his head, whispering something back. You could see your father clasping Silas’s shoulder who faked a cough and used that pretense to wipe at his eyes, Elinor leaned her head on Alton’s shoulder, squeezing his arm as he rubbed her back. Cliff offered Arys his flask, and Perceon grabbed it before Arys could, earning a warning hiss from Braxton. Lord Stark gave you and Robb a smile and approached Lady Stark, all the guests making their way away from the weirwood tree and in the direction of the keep. You nibbled on your lip, at last turning your gaze to Robb to beam at him.
“Good evening, my husband.”
“Good evening, my wife,” he greeted you back, that fond light playing in his eyes before he kissed your temple. “Ready?”
“For what?”
Your answer came in the form of him literally sweeping you off your feet to lift you up in his arms, the high pitched squeal that escaped you echoing in the woods, earning laughter from the crowd. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging tight.
“Robb!”
“I’m supposed to carry you to the feast,” he told you with a wink. “Northern customs. Did they forget to tell you about that part?”
An hour, the second piece of Arys’ herb and multiple drinks later, you were finally relaxed and having fun.
Had it been an hour or two? Or mayhaps three, you really couldn’t tell.
But what you could tell was, from your first dance alone, Robb was a very good dancer even though he preferred not to take part in the rest of the dances. It wasn’t just you having fun, a lot of northerners had already told you that this was the biggest celebration the North had ever seen, and though you weren’t familiar with the other northern celebrations, you were very familiar with southern ones.
And this surpassed even the biggest feast back in the Reach.
You had danced with everyone after Robb. You had danced with your father, and your brothers, and Lord Stark, you had even danced with little Rickon and Bran; both of whom had very serious expressions on their faces as if it was the most important matter, so you had made sure to compliment their dancing skills afterwards.
In addition to that, as a very pleasant surprise, the southerners and northerners looked like they were getting along much better than anyone could’ve anticipated. In fact, you had already heard multiple of your friends planning to exchange letters with their northern dance partners once they were back in the Reach, and many lords and ladies seemed rather taken with each other. Loras had asked you for a dance for old times’ sake, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were back in the Reach, like you were going to rush back to Margaery once the dance was over.
“The infamous Knight of Flowers,” you teased him as you circled each other and he grinned.
“The infamous Blossom of the Reach,” he teased you back. “Or do we call you the Flower of Winterfell now?”
You let out a giggle as you took a step towards each other, your movements fluid as if you were trailing on water, both of you too trained to look anything but perfect.
“You seem happier than ever, and that’s saying something.”
“I am!” you chirped. “I really am.”
“Good,” he said with a chuckle before he twirled you, your skirt flowing around you like waves in the ocean. “I really hope he’ll make you happy, Blossom.”
“He will,” you told him. “And can you tell Lady Olenna I said thank you for everything?”
He made a face. “I did not need to know that.”
“I said nothing!”
“You don’t have to say it, I know what it means.”
Your laughter echoed in the hall, your body following the steps of the dance almost on instinct after years and years of practice.
“Blossom.” He took a deep breath, his eyes searching your face. “About Margaery—”
“I’m not talking about her tonight,” you cut him off and he raised his brows, then nodded.
“Very well,” he said after a second. “Just like we’re not talking about what exactly you’re thanking my grandmother for.”
“To repeat, I said nothing!”
“And to repeat, you don’t have to say it,” he joked. “Will I get my face broken by your husband for daring to dance with you? I’m asking because I watched him beat a knight merely two days ago.”
“Loras!”
“But hey, at least now we know the North is in good hands. If the whitewalkers come, he’ll just beat them up.”
You both took a step back before stepping towards each other again, your hands brushing as the dance required.
“I still remember you joking about white walkers to scare me and Margaery off,” you told him, scrunching your nose up. “Father had to swear to me they weren’t real.”
“You were so easily scared as a child,” he reminisced with a chuckle before eyeing you up and down. “Now look at you. The Lady of Winterfell, hm? It’s your turn to scare people.”
You let out a giggle, sticking your nose up in the air with an air of exaggerated arrogance. “And all shall tremble before me.”
When the music came to a stop and applause rippled in the hall, you dropped a curtsy and thanked him, and he bowed before you two walked away from each other back into the crowd. Robb seemed like he was trapped in a conversation with Lord and Lady Karstark, stealing a glance at you while you tilted your head, trying to decide whether you should interrupt or not—
By the gods, Robb was so very handsome.
Someone touched your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you smiled brightly at Arys.
“Hello!”
“Hello back,” he said with a small smile. “Having fun?”
You nodded your head so fast that for a moment you got dizzy.
“So much fun!” You grabbed a goblet from the tray a footman was carrying, then took a sip of wine. “I got upset about Margaery for a moment but um—I wanted to thank you!”
“Thank me for what?”
You took a deep breath. “The herbs you brought, they work! At first I thought they didn’t but they do, I feel so relaxed and calm and…warm, strangely enough.”
He pulled back a little. “Herbs?”
“I was rather nervous earlier, so I checked the herbs you brought me, and I found the pouch with the uh…it looked like pieces of dried roots? It said Relaxing the Mind,” you said. “I had to eat two pieces, but they’re working!”
Arys blinked a couple of times, his gaze falling on the cup in your hand before back to your face.
“You ate two pieces,” he repeated. “And you’ve been drinking?”
You nodded again. “I ate one before the Godswood, and then it didn’t work, so I ate the second piece when I got here.”
It wasn’t everyday Arys was at a loss for words, and the last time you had seen this exact expression on his face was when Braxton had dared Perceon to swallow a dead grasshopper when they were six. He muttered a curse under his breath, running a hand over his eyes before grabbing you by the arm.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Closer to the light, come,” he said and pulled you closer to one of the candles, then tilted your head up. “Let me see your eyes.”
You blinked up at him and he carefully inspected your eyes, then lowered his hand to take out a coin from his pocket.
“Catch this.” He flipped it in your direction and you caught it, then squinted your eyes at him.
“Why are you throwing me a coin?”
“What’s going on?” Silas’s voice made both of you turn to him and Arys licked his lips.
“She’s fine—you’re fine,” he told you and stifled a laugh. “Good news my dear sister, you won’t be nervous at all for the rest of the night.”
You pumped your fist in the air. “Hooray!”
“Bad news is, you might not remember tonight in general.”
“Oh.” You pouted, your shoulders dropping. “Not hooray.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Silas asked and Arys cleared his throat.
“Remind me to give you a very long speech about herbs and responsibilities tomorrow,” he told you, then stopped a footman. “You. Your duty is to bring my sister water for the rest of the night, alright?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“But I’m drinking wine!”
“You don’t need to drink anymore, trust me.”
“Are you drunk already?” Silas asked you and Arys heaved a sigh.
“Worse.”
“What do you mean worse?” Silas asked, his gaze sharpening in a second. “Arys?”
“Don’t Arys me, I did nothing—”
“He threw me a coin!”
Silas’ frown deepened. “What in the seven hells are you two talking about?”
“He threw me a coin but I caught it,” you said helpfully and Arys pinched the bridge of his nose while you opened your palm to show Silas the coin. “Here. Is it a charm of the sort?”
“Uh, sure. A charm.”
“And his herbs are working, Silas!”
Silas gawked at you in complete silence before he slowly turned his head. “Arys…”
“Before you finish that sentence, let’s all remember that the gods curse the kinslayers,” Arys recited in a solemn manner. “I’m your kin, Silas.”
Silas gave him that perfect courtier smile of his in case anyone was watching. “The gods didn’t say anything about breaking your kin’s jaw, you fucking—”
You gasped when Robb touched the small of your back, a bright smile lighting up your face.
“My betrothed!”
“Your husband, lamb,” Robb corrected you with a smirk before he pressed a kiss on top of your head, and you giggled, hanging onto his arm with both hands to rest your head on his shoulder.
“I forgot,” you said. “It’ll take me a while I think. It’s so strange, being married, you’d think I’d get used to it by now. I mean how long has it been since the weirwood, four hours? Five?”
“Barely two,” Robb said, stifling a chuckle. “How much did you drink?”
“That’s my fault,” Arys said before you could say anything. “She was uh…she was rather nervous, and I gave her an herb to relax her mind. Didn’t think to tell her not to drink, wine heightens the effect.”
Robb’s smirk was replaced by a worried frown in a second. “What?”
“But she’ll be fine!” Arys said in a haste while Silas ran a hand over his face as if trying to control himself. “It poses no danger to her wellbeing at all, she’s just drunk.”
“M’lady.” The footman brought you a cup of water and you smiled at him, then took the cup from him.
“Thank you!”
“Silas!” Your father called out, making him turn his head. “Arys! Come here!”
Silas cursed under his breath while you gulped down your water.
“I’ll be back, just…”
“I’m with her, don’t worry,” Robb assured him. “You go ahead.”
“Come on.” Arys tugged him by the arm and they both made their way to your father while Robb stepped up to stand in front of you, his gaze softening.
“And how does my lady feel?”
You lowered the cup and took a deep breath.
“Time is strangely slow—Robb, I was thinking,” you added, gazing up at him. “Should I tell my gods?”
He reached out to push your hair behind your ear. “Tell them what, my love?”
“That we’re wed,” you said. “I mean your gods already know, but mine might not? I feel like I should go tell them, lest they misunderstand. The sept is right there, I doubt anyone would notice my absence if I tell them very fast and come back—” You stopped mid-sentence when Perceon who was holding a bloodied cloth to his nose entered your sight. “Perce, why are you bleeding?!”
“Oh it’s nothing,” Perceon brushed you off. “Not broken or anything. Robb, is House Fenn important to House Stark?”
“Depends. Why?”
“I just broke their heir’s jaw,” Perceon said, making your eyes widen.
“You what?”
Robb looked rather calm about the issue. “What for?”
“Where’s Braxton?” you insisted and Perceon waved a hand in the air.
“He’s fine, he’s in the rookery.”
“In the middle of my wedding feast?”
“He’s drunk,” Perceon said. “So naturally he decided that it was of utmost importance Myria knew how much he loves her. He is going to send her a raven, I think he’s still writing a letter there.”
You pressed a hand on your chest, getting distracted for a moment by the idea striking your mind. “Robb, we should send each other ravens too!”
“It’d be a short flight,” Robb pointed out, “considering we both live in Winterfell now.”
“It’d still be rather romantic!”
“So anyway, I went out to find him, but on my way there I heard two idiots talking about courting a lady in a very vulgar manner, so of course I had to stop them, and I find breaking someone’s jaw is the perfect way to do so,” He lifted the handkerchief from his nose to motion with his hand. “One is lying in the courtyard face down and the other has multiple broken teeth, I doubt either of them will be able to speak for a while.”
“Good work,” Robb commented while you covered your mouth and Perceon grinned.
“Thank you. Who’s Jorelle Cerwyn?”
You exchanged glances with Robb before lowering your hand. “Why?”
“That’s the lady they were speaking of, and courtesy demands I go apologize to her for letting such talk take place anywhere near me before I stopped it.”
Robb repressed a smile and nodded in Jorelle’s direction, who was in a deep conversation with a lord. “Over there.”
Perceon followed Robb’s line of sight and did a double take the second his eyes found her.
“That one?”
“Aye, in the green gown.”
“…Oh,” Perceon said after a beat and cleared his throat. “How do I look?”
“Bloody,” you replied and Robb smacked his back.
“She’s northern, she won’t mind. Go on.”
Perceon lingered in his spot for a moment before he took a deep breath, then made his way to Jorelle while Robb turned to grin at you.
“Should we have told him about the mistress issue?”
You shoved at his arm. “Very funny.”
“You never know, he might be disturbed by our vast and passionate history of dancing twice—”
“Why did we dance only once?” you cut him off, your brows pulled into a small frown. “You danced with her twice, why did you dance with me once?”
His grin widened. “You’re certain you can dance?”
“That’s the same as asking if I can sleep, Robb,” you whined. “Just as natural for me.”
“Very well then,” he said as he laced his fingers with yours, then lifted your hand to press a kiss on the back of it, making you giggle. “If my lady wife wants to dance, who am I to say no?”
Robb, holding every promise sacred, indeed danced with you as many times as you wanted, so much that eventually Lady Stark had to approached you to remind you that you were both also dance with other people even though it was your wedding feast. Robb entrusted you to Jon, muttering something to his ear that made Jon suppress a laugh though he had looked rather unwilling to dance at first. After you danced with Jon and then with Theon, your brothers pulled Robb aside for some reason while Jon took you to the High Table so that you could sit a little. It was yet another good surprise that he was allowed to sit at the High Table with you during the wedding, but you had a feeling it had less to do with Lady Catelyn and more to do with Robb’s insistence.
When you crossed your arms on the table to rest your head on them, you were still talking with Jon, so you had no idea when exactly it was that you dozed off. All you knew was that one moment you were talking to Jon about how he had to see the Reach, and the other you were having the weirdest dream about someone asking Robb—very loudly— whether it was the time for the bedding ceremony, and many guests cheering for it.
“There will not be one, Lord Burley,” Robb’s voice had none of the warmth it usually held with you, earning many displeased groans from the hall.
“Robb, it’s the tradition!”
“Aye, it is!”
“Come on!”
“The whole Reach came all this way!”
“We came all this way too!”
“There will not be a bedding ceremony,” Robb repeated sternly. “If anyone wants to disagree, make sure to ask Ser Gwayne how his injuries feel first.”
His words had the same effect of drawing a sword, the whole hall falling into stunned silence for a couple of seconds before Ser Gwayne spoke.
“Not good!” he called out, making laughter erupt in the hallway, dissipating the tension in the air. “Wouldn’t say it’s a pleasant experience.”
Music and loud chatter filled the room again, and you felt yourself being pulled out of the comfortable embrace of sleep as Robb’s soft murmur of your name caressed your ears, his hand on the small of your back. You raised your head, squinting your eyes at the bright light, barely aware of the pout on your lips before you blinked a couple of times, trying to focus. He helped you up and your father forced a smile as if he was trying to hide the worried look in his eyes.
“Good night, my dearest.”
“Good night father,” you muttered, leaning to Robb’s side before he scooped you up into his arms. Your head dropped to the crook of his neck, your fingers curling into his shirt as he carried you out of the hall, away from the chatter and music. You repressed a yawn while he walked down the hallway, then started climbing the stairs.
“I wasn’t done dancing,” you murmured. “I was just resting.”
Laughter vibrated in his chest as he reached the top of the stairs, then turned the corner to step into the hallway leading to his bedchambers. “You can dance all you want tomorrow, time to retire now.”
“Where’s Grey Wind?”
“In the Godswood with his siblings,” he said. “Too many people in the hall.”
“We must make sure to see him tomorrow, I don’t want him to feel excluded.” You couldn’t stop your yawn this time. “I have so much to tell you, I’ve met so many people, and I think some of them like me. Well, I hope. I don’t know, northerners smile less than southerners so it’s still rather difficult to tell, but they seemed rather friendly. And Jon isn’t half bad when it comes to dancing, I have no idea why he looked that tormented at the suggestion of it.”
“That’s just his face at this point.”
“And before I forget,” you mumbled, “I’m glad you were so calm and polite to Lord Meadows’ comment about Winterfell’s warmth.”
“What do you mean, calm and polite?” He frowned down at you. “Wasn’t he asking about how we keep it warm?”
You shook your head, trying to keep your eyes open though they felt like they weighed a ton. “No, he was being rude.”
“Is that why you brought his castle into it?” he asked with a small laugh. “When you said he had nothing to worry about the upcoming winter in the Reach, because his castle is small and cozy?”
“That was an insult.” You nodded this time. “I insulted him.”
“I will never understand the way you southerners speak.” He opened the door to his bedchambers, stepped in, then closed the door and made his way to the bed to put you on it gently.
Despite your vision being slightly hazy because of wine, you could still tell that the room looked exactly like how you described it to him. There was a sofa and a smaller table by the fireplace, a plate of fresh fruit and a bottle of wine and two cups on it. The furs bundled up in front of the fireplace looked so cozy that if you could stand, you would go and bury your hands into them to see if they were as soft as they appeared. The bed looked nothing like how you remembered it either; each corner of it had a wooden column carved with direwolves. The sheer curtains draped around it made it look out of an enticing dream in the candle light, and your eyes darted over the carvings of snarling direwolves on the huge headboard before you reached out to trace the small figure of a lamb with a smile.
“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed out, sleep still laced in your voice even though you tried your hardest to sound sober. Robb pulled the half folded sheet on top of the actual sheet from underneath you, coaxing a giggle out of you while he walked to the small table to grab the knife from the fruit plate. You lifted yourself on your elbows and narrowed your eyes to get rid of the blurriness on the corners of your vision while he nicked his thumb.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing of importance my love, go back to sleep.” He came back to the bed to let the blood drip from his finger to the half folded sheet before he threw it near the door so that the maids could pick it up next morning when they entered the room, though you had no idea why he wanted to stain a perfectly good sheet. Although you wanted to ask him, you were rather exhausted and your eyes were way too heavy to keep them open so you fell back on the bed.
“Robb?” you murmured into the pillow when he sat beside you on the bed, and you couldn’t help but heave a sigh when he leaned in to kiss your forehead, his pleasant scent filling your lungs.
“Yes, my beautiful wife?”
You let out a giggle. “We’re bound forever now.”
“We are,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch on your cheekbone. “Finally.”
And in less than a mere second, the warm haze of sleep claimed you, pulling you into darkness.
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