Ashlynn | 26| 18+ posts (do not interact with if under 18) | member of HBC/Boston Sin Bin/ Top Gun fanatics | known to think a lot about taron egerton and aaron tveit| avs/bruins/isles and misc players | in love with dumb fighter pilots Masterlist
I am going to be updating my blog over the next few days to get back on track, with that being said there will be fics removed and taken down. That being said I will remain an 18+ blog, I write filth and I am not about to catch a case.
Fandoms come and go, the following is what my blog will be rebranded to:
Sebastian Stan, he is here to stay but his film about Tr*mp will not appear on my blog
Taron Egerton
Richard Madden
Ben Schwartz
Bridgerton, all spoilers will be tagged accordingly, if you are seeing content from episodes it is because you may not have all the tags blocked.
Hockey and the players-this is a big one: I will not tolerate any hate on my blog and I reserve the right to block you if you constantly shit on my teams, it's my blog, I post what I want. I am an Islanders, Avalanche, and Bruins fan. There will be fics written about certain players (a full list of who I write for will be released at a later date.) That being said:
I will not write fan fiction about married players, I don't do it for other celebrities they will not be the exception.
Top Gun and the actors; including Miles Teller, Monica Barbara, Lewis Pullman, Glen Powell, Greg Tarzan Davis, etc. That being said, Miles is married, not fanfic will be written about him. Rooster is a different story.
Aaron Tveit and a few other Broadway artists: I am not entirely sure about writing for this community yet, but I do enjoy it
Books: ACOTAR and a few other series
Anything else that I please as this is my space. If you see a fic of mine that you like disappear it is probably because I have deleted it. If you're unsure, ask, my inbox is always open to friendly questions and kind words!
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: Rumors can cause jealousy.
Word Count: 4,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Back in the Reach, when Lady Olenna hired that lady of the night to tutor you and Margaery on marital acts and what husbands liked, she had assured both of you that unlike what everyone around you kept telling you, your name, your family’s wealth, any heirs you’d have with your future husband; none of that was a guarantee that he would fall in love with you.
According to her, it was all about how mesmerizing you would be, and your marital bed was the key. That night, while you and Margaery laid in the bed trying to silence your giggles so as not to wake Loras again and get a scolding, you had both agreed that it was exaggeration; surely it couldn’t have been the case for everyone.
But judging by Robb’s reaction after what you had done last night, you were beginning to believe that lady.
“My maid will be here any moment!” you said as you pushed him gently, making him walk backward to the door. “I must get ready for breakfast—we already overslept!”
He grabbed your wrist and in a blink, you had your back against the wall, a giggle escaping you.
“Robb!”
“Dismiss her when she comes.”
“And what of my ladies-in-waiting?”
He grinned at you. “Dismiss them too.”
“That would be rude!”
“Fine, I’ll dismiss all of them—”
“You’ll do no such thing!” you exclaimed, the look of shock on your face coaxing a chuckle out of him as he cupped your face in his palm, your heart skipping a happy beat.
Gods, he looked irresistible.
He had put on his breeches, but his white linen shirt was half open, letting you peek at his chiseled chest. His curly hair was tousled thanks to last night’s—and this morning’s—activities, and there was a mischievous light gleaming in his eyes as he looked at you, tracing the line of your bottom lip.
You frowned, willing yourself to focus.
“I don’t suppose anyone has told you this,” you said, sticking your nose in the air, “but a lady needs her own time to get ready to be seen in public.”
“A lady or my lady?”
A smile curled your lips before you could stop it, and you pointed in the direction of the door, making him whine.
“I’ve been away from you for a week!”
You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t currently battling yourself not to drag him back to bed. “That was of your own making.”
“Just a moment!”
“That, my sweet wife, is a cruel lie,” he murmured, leaning to brush his lips against yours. A pleasant sigh left you, the familiar warmth blooming in your lower stomach, your mind going blank once again as it always did whenever Robb kissed you. Your body moved at its own accord; you threw your arms over his broad shoulders so that you could pull him closer, ready to lose yourself in his arms but a knock on the door snapped you out of it and made you pull back. Robb blindly chased your lips as you pressed a hand on his chest to push him back again, turning your head.
You went under Robb’s arm to get away from him, whirling on your heels before you stepped back, clasping your hands behind you with a grin. He raised his brows like he was warning you.
“Do not—” he started, but before he could finish his sentence, you had already swung the door open to beam at your maid. She was a sweet girl, only a couple years younger than you. Just like the other northerners you had met, she wasn’t very fond of sharing too much, nor did she jump at the opportunity to gossip unlike what you were used to back in the Reach, but you were certain you were going to be friends soon enough.
“Good morrow Kyra!” you chirped. “My lord husband was just leaving, you may come in.”
Kyra stepped in and curtsied.
“M’lord. M’lady.”
“And I shall see you, my wife,” he said, kissing your temple as he walked past you and left the room. You turned to Kyra, looking down to pretend to fix the silky skirt of your nightgown.
Your grin widened at the look of utter betrayal on Robb’s face. “I shall see you at breakfast, my husband.”
“Kyra, would you mind telling the maids to draw me a bath?” you asked. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could help me take off my necklace, thank you.”
With the King and his court arriving next week, Lady Stark was busy beyond words. She had to foresee anything and everything about their visit, and while you had been following her like her shadow to learn and help out if needed, you also had your own duties.
While the preparations were being made for the feasts upon the King’s arrival, Wintertown could not be expected to put everything on hold, especially with the arrival of autumn. Thus, you and your ladies were tasked with preparing certain supplies for the smallfolk. The baskets mostly consisted of blankets and food, and while back in the south your father had certain people responsible for overseeing such help, in the north, it fell upon Lady Stark—and per her request, you.
You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t surprise you, but you figured it was just one of the many differences between the south and the north.
Everyone did something here, regardless of who they were.
Your ladies-in-waiting were already in the granary, and you had every intention to go join them when you stepped out into the yard after having a short conversation with Lady Stark, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you caught the sight of Theon sparring with Jon while Bran watched them and Robb sat beside him, no doubt having just finished sparring with either of them. You could feel your heart skip a happy beat as you stole a look in the direction of the granary, but the urge to be with Robb—fleeting as it would be, for mere minutes—overcame your hesitation. You made your way to him, a smile twitching his lips the moment you entered his sight and sat beside him.
“Hello,” you said. “I figured I could take some fresh air before I went inside, I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he said quickly while Bran waved at you, still quite shy. You gave him a warm smile, both your and his attention turning to Jon when he blocked Theon’s strike with his sword, pushing him hard enough to make him stumble back.
“But will it happen?” Bran insisted while you rested your head on Robb’s shoulder and he pressed his lips on top of your head, sneaking an arm around your waist to subtly pull you closer. Jon rolled his eyes.
“Of course not, Bran.”
“You never know,” Theon sang and Bran huffed.
“Even if father says so?”
“Father won’t say so.”
“He said so to Robb.”
“He asked me,” Robb corrected him, “it’s not the same thing.”
“What are we talking about?” you asked and Bran turned to you with a scowl on his face.
“Jon getting wed.”
“I’m not getting wed.”
“Silas said he was the one who approved Robb,” Bran said. “And if Robb had to approve your future lady…”
Robb let out a scoff. “I don’t think that falls on me.”
“There’s usually more things to consider than your older brother approving someone,” you pointed out. “Silas saying that isn’t the whole truth.”
“But Jon, would you have to wed Ser Tallhart’s daughter if father said so?”
You bit back a laugh at the exasperation on Jon’s face. While you didn’t know the details of how he and Silas separated, it was quite obvious that Jon’s attention wouldn’t belong to anyone else for a long time, judging by how sulky he had been since your brother left. As much as you wanted him to share his feelings with you, you figured he didn’t want you or anyone else to know, so you had to keep your silence despite seeing his sadness.
Perhaps you could imply you would keep his secret, but you would have to earn his trust for that.
“Ser Tallhart’s daughter?” you asked, making Theon let out a laugh.
“I doubt that’ll happen, Bran.”
“But!” Bran insisted. “But listen. Silas approved Robb, right? And you already said, about Ser Tallhart’s daughter, that Robb approved.”
Robb made a face. “I didn’t say I approved.”
“But Theon said that you called her pleasant and said southern girls and northern girls are different,” Bran said, making your head shoot up from Robb’s shoulder. “You approved, and Jon doesn’t have a southern betrothed, and...”
The look of panic that settled on all three men would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fury crashing down on you. Theon and Jon stopped sparring as if someone had just barked an order at them, and Robb’s eyes widened as he stared at Bran at a loss for words. Bran seemed oblivious to their reactions, ranting about how Jon couldn’t wed because that’d mean he’d see him less like Robb, while you tried your hardest to keep your expression calm, considering you were in public.
Ser Tallhart’s daughter, was it?
“…Ah,” you said and arched a brow at Robb, an overly sweet smile curling your lips. “Is that what Robb said?”
One simple observer would’ve thought Robb was being accused of treason with the way he shook his head vigorously.
“That’s not what I—Bran, you make it sound very different than what actually took place.”
“But Theon and Jon were saying—”
“I said nothing.”
“I’m not involved in this conversation.” Theon and Jon spoke at the same time, desperate to absolve themselves of any crime but Robb wasn’t so lucky and by the looks of it, he knew it.
“I just said for—for Jon, she looked pleasant.” He waved a hand in Jon’s direction without even sparing him a glance while you tilted your head, still smiling. “For Jon only. I wasn’t even—”
“My lady?” Alys’ voice reached you, making you look over your shoulder. “Maester Luwin says we may start if you’re ready.”
“Of course,” you said as if your stomach wasn’t churning, the familiar ache whenever you were nervous back in its full strength. You got up from the bench to follow Alys, leaving Robb dumbfounded but he snapped out of it before you could reach the granary and caught up with you.
“Wait—”
“I cannot,” you said airily without a glance at him, “I have things to do.”
“That sounded wrong, back there.” He stepped in front of you to block your path, making you narrow your eyes. “I didn’t call her—I did call her pleasant, but only because I was trying to encourage Jon. He’s been sulkier than usual, and Theon thinks it’s because he didn’t like any southern girls at our wedding.”
“And one look at Theon makes you think of wisdom?”
“No,” he admitted after a beat. “Not really. But what else could be the reason?”
Your brother was the reason, but it wasn’t like you could tell Robb that. Besides, that wasn’t the point, you were not going to stand here and get into an argument where the whole yard could see, you were way too trained for that. Jealousy was not mesmerizing, most of the time it held the opposite effect. Lady Olenna used to say that the more a lady looked bothered, the more her influence slipped away. Grasping too tightly would signal to the court that you were insecure, and insecurity was unbecoming of a lady.
Which meant that even though it took every ounce of control in you, you couldn’t appear angry.
“I don’t find anyone more pleasant than you,” Robb added, almost breathless. “My lady, surely you must know that.”
You could swear the words you were not supposed to say were clawing at your throat, but you took a deep breath and forced yourself to smile.
“Alright.”
Robb pulled back slightly, his eyes darting over your face.
“…Alright?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice holding no trace of grudge unlike your heart. “And if you’ll excuse me, I must be going now.”
“But—” He stopped you, holding your arm before you could turn around. “But we’re alright?”
As much as you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, that also would appear very unladylike, so you nodded your head instead.
“Of course,” you chirped. “How selfless of you to assess and compare ladies for Jon, I’m certain he’s grateful.”
“See, that comment right there doesn’t assure me that we’re alright—”
“And though I’d love to hear about the differences between southern and northern ladies, I really must be going now,” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his grip. “Have a good day, my lord.”
With that, you walked away from him, anger still pulsing in your temples.
Who even was Ser Tallhart’s daughter? No one had told you anything about her.
There was no wonder your ladies-in-waiting would know about her, seeing that they had likely crossed paths at a wedding or a feast. If you were back home, you could’ve asked your friends, but here in Winterfell you had to be more careful than that.
Any wrong question could lead to many speculations.
Not to mention, you still didn’t trust them. Alys, Wylla and Lyra seemed rather sweet, but when it came to Jorelle and Barbrey, you were still very cautious. Barbrey was going to have to work hard to prove her loyalty to you, and Jorelle…
Well.
You weren’t certain that you could ever lower your guard with her.
It wasn’t even about her at this point, it was more about her family. You knew very well that at any given moment, her family would push her forward if they knew they could undermine you, Lady Cerwyn’s condescending manners were a proof of it. Not only that, the whole North would support them, as they were already fond of Jorelle and her family.
Your family, however, were outsiders to the north, and no matter how much help they would send when the winter came, northerners didn’t trust or like outsiders.
You were pulled away from your thoughts when Wylla spoke.
“That’s a very beautiful necklace.”
Your head snapped up, and you willed a lovesick smile on your face despite the storm in your head.
“Aw thank you,” you said, dipping the spoon into the salt bag to pour some of it into the small container before you walked to place it in a basket. “Robb kindly brought me a gift from Torrhen’s Square.”
Alys and Barbrey exchanged smirks while Lyra and Jorelle folded the blankets to put into the rest of the empty baskets.
“Do you know…” you trailed off, nibbling on your lip. “Have any of you been to Torrhen’s Square before?”
Jorelle lifted her head for only a moment before she returned her attention to the blankets, clearly deciding against whatever she was going to say. Alys nodded her head.
“I have, once.”
“I don’t think I’ve met House Tallhart,” you mused. “I’ve heard high praises though.”
“Did Gilliane come to the wedding?” Lyra asked and you turned your head.
“Gilliane?”
“Their oldest daughter, my lady,” Wylla said. “And no, she didn’t.”
“I think only Erena came,” Alys said. “I’m certain I caught a glimpse of her—her younger sister.”
“I’ve met too many people to count at the wedding, I’m afraid,” you said. “Perhaps I met them and don’t remember it.”
“Erena is very sweet, Gilliane however…”
“Lyra,” Alys warned her and she held up her hands.
“I said nothing.”
You tilted your head. “Oh, now I must know.”
Barbrey grinned. “Gilliane is very emotional.”
“It’s no crime against the king to be emotional!” Alys insisted while Lyra made a face.
“It should be.”
Jorelle bit back her smile.
“Gilliane gets affected by anything and everything,” she told you. “A bit of a crier.”
“And she falls in love with someone different at every Harvest Feast,” Wylla added and fixed her hair in an exaggerated manner. “And if anyone would like to ask me why she didn’t come to the wedding, I have the answer.”
“How?”
“One of her brothers holds affections for me, and he’s a gossip.”
Alys’ jaw dropped. “Which brother?”
“Benton.” Wylla reached out to grab an apple to take a bite, coaxing a laugh out of you while Lyra narrowed her eyes.
“Have you started living in Wintertown and we don’t know about it?”
“It’s just one apple!”
“Don’t let Maester Luwin see you,” Jorelle said and Wylla shrugged her shoulders.
“I am famished, would he rather if I fainted?”
“That is a very sound logic I admit,” you teased them and Wylla gestured at you.
“See?”
“But in return, we hear why she didn’t come to the wedding,” you added, plopping down on the nearest chair and cracking your neck with a grimace. “Sounds interesting.”
“Alright, so…” Wylla jumped to sit on the table. “Benton says she was heartbroken.”
“That’s no news, she gets heartbroken whenever someone looks at her wrong.”
“Jo!”
“Am I lying?”
“No wonder she and I can’t get along well, she has too many feelings for my taste,” Lyra mused and Alys pressed her fist on her lips in an attempt to hide her smile. Barbrey leaned in.
“Who was she heartbroken over?”
“And that’s what is so interesting about it,” Wylla said and turned to you. “Don’t misunderstand this, because I would know if there was anything between them, but…”
You pulled back, your mouth half agape. “Robb?”
The whole room erupted into chaos.
“Wylla!”
“Have they even spoken to each other before?”
“I have never ever seen them exchange words in any wedding or feast.”
“Yeah, Benton says the same. She was admiring him from afar, pushed her father to make an offer of betrothal, but…”
Well, if that was the pleasant girl, at least now you knew she was no real threat to your position or your heart.
“A lot of fathers made—” Barbrey started but Alys elbowed her, stealing a look at Jorelle whose calm face was impossible to read as usual. Lyra shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ll say it if you won’t. Everyone’s fathers made proposals.”
“Lyra, don’t say that!”
“What, like she doesn’t know?”
“I do know,” you assured them. “And I don’t mind at all. If Robb held a grudge over everyone who made a proposal to wed me, our marriage would be cold until we’re old and gray. That’s simply how such arrangements work, it makes sense that families made proposals, I could never hold grudges over that.”
At least that was what Lady Olenna would want you to say.
Untroubled and amused.
That’s what you had to appear when it came to possible former betrothals; untroubled and amused.
Even though what you felt was the complete opposite of that.
“And I don’t want any of you to guard your tongues around me,” you added in a haste, as if you yourself hadn’t been trained to guard your tongue around people since you could speak. “Not when it’s just us, at least.”
No one back in the south would believe or entertain such thought. In fact, if you and Margaery were ever told what you had just said, you both would’ve taken it as an insult to be seen so naïve, but this was the north.
And you could not seem resentful or insecure.
“Now,” you said and grabbed an apple to bite it as well. “Tell me more about this person. I have been suffering from lack of gossip ever since I came here, and I’d like to catch up.”
By dinner time, you had learned everything there was to learn about House Tallhart and their daughters, and thankfully, nothing seemed alarming.
But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry at Robb.
And although Lady Olenna would’ve advised you otherwise, you were going to make sure he knew exactly how you felt.
Lord Stark had made it much easier, albeit not on purpose. He had kept Robb with him the whole day for meetings and petitions, and you had managed to excuse yourself to your own bedchambers right after dinner before he could come back. A week away from home must have meant Lord Stark had much to catch up on, because it was nearly midnight by the time you heard Robb’s heavy gait pass your door. You raised your brows, keeping your attention on your book in your lap when the door to his bedchambers opened, then closed after a couple of complete silence. His footsteps approached your door before he opened it and peeked his head in.
“What are you doing here?”
You flipped the page without pulling your gaze off the book. “Reading.”
“Here?”
“Seems that way.”
“But…” He stepped inside. “But I’m back.”
“Hasn’t escaped me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“It’s my bedchambers,” you replied. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t find you in—are you still angry at me?”
“No,” you lied through your teeth. “I simply decided to sleep here tonight.”
Judging by the look on his face, you might as well have announced you meant to annul your marriage: “You’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“I am,” you said, pretending to be engrossed in your book though you barely had any idea what you were reading. “And you can sleep in your own bedchambers and think about Ser Tallhart’s daughter all you want.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I told you, I only said that for—”
“I care not.” You pointed at the door, your gaze fixed on the page. “Leave me be.”
He lingered there for a moment as if he was trying to find the best approach, then took a step towards the bed.
“My sweet wife—” he started, but stopped dead on his tracks when you lifted your head to glare daggers at him. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.
“I was trying to encourage Jon.”
“I heard you the first time,” you said and closed to book to give him a snake like smile. “Now that you’re here though, what exactly is so different between southern and northern girls? Since you are an expert, you should have no issues enlightening me?”
“That’s—” He pointed back at the door like Jon was standing outside, stumbling over his words. “I simply said, if Jon didn’t find any southern girls to his liking, northern girls might be uh—different?” The last word came out like an uncertain question. “In terms of his uh, his…affections.”
You raised your brows, still glaring at him.
“I swear it was for Jon only.”
“Wonderful,” you deadpanned. “You may leave now. Have pleasant dreams.”
A ghost of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re jealou—”
“Robb if you finish that sentence, I will make you suffer in a very southern way, and then you’ll know the actual difference between northern and southern girls,” you growled, and he held up his hands, biting back his smile.
“Be angry at me if you wish,” he said, stepping closer to the bed, “but we’re not sleeping in different beds.”
“I’m not coming there, and you’re not welcomed here.”
“Oh you are coming there,” he said and before you could so much as blink, he had thrown you over his shoulder, a surprised shriek spilling from your lips.
“Put me down this instant!” you exclaimed, your voice going high-pitched while he made his way to the door. You pressed your palms on his shoulder to throw him off his balance and wiggle out of his grip, but much to your frustration, it didn’t work. “How dare you? This is actual disrespect, you—”
“You left me no other choice,” he stated, stepping out of your bedchambers into the hallway. “Whose fault is it? Not mine.”
“Put me down!”
He turned, but stopped in an instant, and though you hoped it was because he decided to listen to you, the real reason turned out to be very different. He shifted his weight and let out a curt cough like he was trying to regain his composure.
“Father.”
Oh Gods.
Oh Gods no.
Lord Stark could not see you like this, absolutely not.
“…Robb.”
Alright then, Lord Stark was indeed seeing you like this.
You shut your eyes tight, half hoping it would make both of you disappear from Lord Stark’s vision, scrunching up your face.
“Good evening, Lord Stark,” you squealed out, the angle Robb was holding you in preventing you from seeing your father-in-law, perhaps by mercy.
“My wife and I were just…” Robb started, but even you could tell he had no idea where the sentence would go. “We were uh, going to sleep.”
Well, Robb was a terrible liar, so at least you could find some solace in that for the future of your marriage, especially now that you were going to have to spend the rest of the said marriage not being able to look at his father in the eye. A silence fell upon the hallway before Lord Stark heaved a sigh as if he had the realm’s weight on his shoulders, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture the exasperation on his face.
“I saw nothing,” he ended up saying. “I saw nothing, and I am walking away before I see anything.”
You heard Lord Stark go past him and you watched him walk to the other end of the hallway without sparing a glance back. A whine climbed your throat and you slumped over his shoulder, hiding your face in your hands until Robb entered his—your—bedchambers and dropped you on the bed. You grabbed the nearest pillow to throw at him, your cheeks burning.
“I won’t be able to look at your father anymore, Robb!”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“He—that—” you stammered, gesturing at the door. “He saw!”
“Aye, and he doesn’t mind,” Robb said, catching the other pillow in the air. “To repeat, you gave me no other choice!”
You gritted your teeth and turned to Grey Wind who was watching you both from beside the fireplace.
“Grey Wind, up,” you commanded and he leaped on the bed, making Robb frown.
“What are you doing?”
“He will sleep between us.”
“No he won’t.”
“Yes he will,” you said and pulled the fur covers on top of you, the direwolf curling up next to you. “You can sleep on your side, or you can sleep somewhere else dreaming of Ser Tallhart’s pleasant daughter, your choice.”
“That’s a vile accusation and a terrible insult—Grey Wind, down.”
“Grey Wind, stay,” you shot back and Grey Wind let out a huff, looked between you and Robb, then yawned and nudged your arm with his snout. “See? He’s staying.”
Robb threw his head back with a groan while you pulled your pillow to yourself.
“Lamb…”
“I’m too sleepy to argue.”
“Then just listen?”
“I shall not,” you said, closing your eyes. “Goodnight.”
“But…”
“Goodnight, I said.”
Robb exhaled through his nose impatiently and moved about in the room, his heavy steps enough of a clue to what he was doing. Despite trying to control yourself, you still ended up opening an eye to watch him take off his shirt, but you shut your eyes again before he could see you gawking at him. He got under the furs, and after a couple of seconds you dared steal a peek again to find him half naked, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the candlelight, oblivious to the way your gaze followed down his chiseled body while you bit at your lip.
Oh well.
Just because you were angry at him didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the sight.
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: Honeymoon is made better with gifts.
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Life in the North was full of responsibilities.
Robb knew that. As the heir to House Stark and the future Lord of Winterfell, he had always known he would have responsibilities to his house, his family, and the north.
However, as a new husband, he also had responsibilities to his wife, and those outweighed anything and everything else, in spite of the rest of the realm thinking otherwise.
It had been his father’s request of course. After postponing everything for over a moon because of the wedding, he now had to go back to his regular visits to his bannermen and lords to ensure loyalty, and as usual, Robb was expected to go with him. Before his wedding, Robb never had any problems with it, instead he found it useful for the future but now…
It was different now.
He pulled on his breeches and went over to the hearth to feed the fire so that the room would still be hot when he left. After giving Grey Wind a quick scratch behind the ears, he got into a white linen shirt and put on his boots, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to around his lady from her slumber. He sat at the foot of the bed fixing his sleeves, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the bed shift before his lady draped herself across his back like a cloak, her arms thrown over his shoulders. The warmth of her naked skin seeped through his shirt while she tucked her face into the crook of his neck with a sleepy sigh and Robb smiled, his chest tightening with the rush of happiness flooding it.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice low in the quiet of the room save for the crackling of wood in the fireplace. She shook her head, letting out a noise of displeasure.
“No,” she said, her breath caressing his neck. “But you should have.”
He entwined his fingers with hers to press a kiss on the back of her hand. “It’s early in the morning still.”
“Mayhaps, but you’re leaving for a week.”
He didn’t even have to look at her to know she had a sulky expression on her face, it was clear as day from her voice. With another curt kiss on her wrist, he slipped out of her arms to turn to see her better, but that turned out to be the wrong move, especially considering he was expected outside.
Gods, he was never going to get used to this.
The sight of her sitting there all prim and proper as if she wasn’t bare before him was enough to make his breath hitch in his throat, desire shooting through him faster than a lightning strike. It took every ounce of willpower in him not to pounce on her, the familiar fire burning low in his veins while she blinked slowly, sleep still clinging to her eyes. He couldn’t help but reach out to graze his fingertips up her waist, awakening goosebumps on her soft skin.
“And how,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with want, “am I supposed to leave you when you look like this?”
A teasing smile curled her lips.
“You’re not,” she answered. “And yet…”
Robb found himself mirroring her smile before he leaned in to steal a kiss from her, his hand cupping the side of her neck as he gently pushed her on her back so that he could settle between her legs, a giggle escaping her.
“Robb!”
It was simply cruel; to expect him to be anywhere but here in her arms while she looked up at him with such a pretty pout.
“Yes, my lady?”
She fiddled with the laces of his shirt as if she wanted to focus on something else, her brows pulled into a worried frown.
“Is it very far?” she asked. “Torrhen’s Square?”
“Not very far but we’ll stay for a night or two,” he muttered, dipping his head to kiss her neck but she stopped him.
“But you’ll be back in seven days for certain?” she insisted. “No longer?”
“Seven days is long enough.”
“No I know, I just…” she trailed off while he played with her hair absentmindedly. “I don’t want you to be away any longer than necessary, that’s all.”
“Trust me,” Robb grumbled, “I wouldn’t be leaving if it were up to me.”
That irresistible pout pulled at her lips again.
“Or so you claim.”
He shot her a half-hearted glare. “Do you honestly think I’d rather spend a night in Ser Tallhart’s castle—”
“I thought he was a lord.”
“House Tallhart is a masterly house.”
“Masterly house?”
“It’s…” Robb trailed off. “Think of landed knights but northern.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, you honestly think I’d rather spend a night in Ser Tallhart’s castle than be here with you?”
“Well, where will you be for a week? Here with me or Ser Tallhart’s castle?”
“I’ll be on horseback for most of it,” he corrected her and she pushed at his shoulder, making him chuckle. She nibbled on her lip, then took a deep breath.
“While you’re away,” she said. “May I ask something of you?”
“Anything.”
She raised her brows. “Anything?”
“I’d give you the realm if you wanted,” he muttered, nudging her nose with his, drawing a giggle out of her.
“I suppose it’s lucky that I don’t wish for the realm,” she said softly. “I only wish for your attention and affection.”
His heart melted in his ribcage.
“But since I’m to be deprived of both for a week,” she added before he could assure her she’d have them forever. “I want you to bring me a gift from there, wherever Torrhen’s Square is.”
His grin widened. “A gift?”
“Yes,” she said, wrapping the laces of his shirt around her index finger. “So that I’ll know you thought of me.”
He frowned down at her.
“And my wife, who has conquered my heart and my soul,” he said, caressing her cheekbone, “believes it possible that I will not think of her?”
She shrugged despite the smile playing on her lips, but before she could say anything, a servant knocked on the door.
“My lord, the horses are ready, your father is waiting for you.”
Robb repressed a groan and dipped his head to give her a goodbye kiss, unable to make himself pull back until she did, her eyes darting over his face.
“Promise me you’ll miss me,” she said, nearly breathless as he captured her lips with his again.
“I will,” he murmured. “I swear it. Promise me you’ll miss me back?”
“Every second,” she said and he stole another kiss from her, then forced himself to get off of her, already longing for her warmth. He grabbed his doublet to put it on while she pulled the furs up to her chest, then leaned over the edge of the bed so that she could give Grey Wind head scratches.
“What kind of gift?” Robb couldn’t help but ask as she cooed at Grey Wind, then turned her head.
“Hm?”
He clasped his cloak. “What kind of gift?”
“That’s for you to choose.” She kissed Grey Wind’s head who gave her a happy rumble. “You be careful out there, my sweet.”
Robb went over to her to peck her on the lips. “And you be careful here.”
“I will.” She beamed at him and let herself fall back on the bed while he walked to the door. “Miss me!”
“I will,” Robb chuckled and let himself gaze at her once more, then opened the door and stepped out with Grey Wind following him suit. The direwolf let out a whine, turning his head to look back at the door and Robb heaved a sigh.
“I know,” he said as he made his way down the hallway. “Trust me, I know.”
At least the road hadn’t been troublesome.
Ser Tallhart and his family were good friends of House Stark, as they had been for centuries. They were very welcoming too, so after the meetings were over and the petitions were listened, the dinner was turned into a small feast. Though northern houses had less resources than houses of the Reach, they made up for it in hospitality, and this was yet another occasion for the two houses to get together along with some of the other vassals. He and his father had been talking to Ser Tallhart for the last ten minutes, and it was only when he excused himself to go to talk to another lord that his father turned to Robb.
“You look tormented.”
“I left my lady wife in Winterfell.”
“So did I, Robb,” his father reminded him and Robb made a face.
“It’s not the same, father.”
Or at least he wanted to think it was not.
His father raised his brows, biting back a smile.
“It’ll be good for you,” he said after a beat while Robb took a sip of his ale. “To be away for a week. Your mother tells me the whole North is talking about how you barely let your wife out of your bedchambers, they should see that’s not the case.”
“It’s not the case,” Robb insisted. “What, because we skipped breakfast a couple of times?”
“And keep excusing yourselves right after dinner,” his father pointed out. “And just the other day you all but snatched her when she was merely walking down the hallway—”
“We had things to talk of,” he defended himself, his ears burning. “And it may have escaped people, but we’re on our honeymoon.”
His father hummed. “It hasn’t escaped people, but you don’t want them to think you’re ruled by…excitement.”
Robb was fully aware of the fire spreading over his face, but he looked down at his cup and took a sip again while his father glanced around the hall, then heaved a sigh.
“Do you know what’s happening with Jon?”
Robb turned his head to find his brother in the crowded hall. The last he checked, he and Theon were talking to Ser Tallhart’s sons, but it was clear that Jon had left the conversation to go drink at the table by himself, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn’t a new occasion to see him sulk, but at least in the feasts and such he used to hold a conversation, especially if Theon or Robb were around.
And strangely enough, this wasn’t the first time Robb noticed it. Jon had been in low spirits for a couple of days, since the day before the Greensteds left Winterfell.
“He’s tired, perhaps.”
“For days?” his father asked and Robb shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said and made his way to Jon to sit across from him, making his head snap up.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Robb said. “You look sulkier than I am, and I’m away from my lady. What’s going on with you?”
“Uh….” Jon blinked a couple of times. “I’m tired.”
“See, I just gave the very same excuse to father, and he didn’t believe it either,” Robb pointed out while he filled his cup, and Jon’s brows pinched together.
“Father asked?”
“Aye, you’ve been upset for the last couple of days.” Robb took a sip of his ale again. “Jon, be honest with me. Is this because of the southerners?”
Jon’s eyes widened. “…What?”
“They left and you’re upset?” Robb asked as Jon pulled back a little, swallowing thickly. “Who was that lady you danced with at the wedding, Lady Florys? Is it because she left?”
Jon stared at him for a couple of seconds and let out a breath, a look of relief crossing his features.
“No,” he said. “No, she was nice, but I don’t…”
“Was there another guest who caught your attention then?”
Jon pursed his lips, then shook his head.
“No.”
“Because my lady says—”
“What are we talking about?” Theon plopped down next to Robb, and Jon took a huge sip of his drink.
“Robb thinks just because he’s in love, I must be in love as well.”
“That’s not what I said.” Robb pointed at him. “I’m just trying to find a reason for your sulking being worse than usual, that is all.”
“Oh I think I know what this is about,” Theon told them, his eyes a little glassy no doubt thanks to ale. “But it’s good that you didn’t fall in love with a southern girl, Snow. Everyone knows the southern girls are—”
“Careful there,” Robb cut him off, glaring at him and Theon held up his hands, gesturing surrender.
“Your lady excluded, obviously,” he corrected himself. “But come on, Jon is not gonna wed a southerner.” He clasped a hand over his shoulder to shake him. “He’ll wed a northerner, that’s more his type!”
“I don’t even know what you mean to say, Greyjoy.”
“I mean to say, look around,” Theon pointed out. “Just because the whole Reach came to Winterfell and a lot of northerners and southerners found each other to their liking, does not mean you have to be among them. No need to feel excluded, maybe you simply like northern girls better than southern girls.”
Oh, Robb hadn’t thought about that possibility.
Perhaps Theon was right, it wasn’t because Jon liked any of the southern ladies, it was because he couldn’t find someone to his liking even with so many of them in Winterfell, and felt excluded.
Even his lady had said many of her friends would be exchanging letters with the northern men they’d met at the wedding.
“Am I wrong?” Theon asked Robb who shook his head.
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “Southern girls are different than northern girls, and not every northern girl came to the wedding.”
“Aye.”
“There are a bunch of people you have not talked with,” Robb said, stealing a glance around the hall. “A bunch of houses who are loyal to House Stark, like—oh, like Ser Tallhart’s daughter over there, see? She seems pleasant.”
“Very pleasant,” Theon said. “But mayhaps not that one.”
“Why not? Is she betrothed?”
“Her brothers said she held a lot of admiration for you,” Theon said with a grin. “Asked her father to make an offer of betrothal before you were betrothed to your lady.”
Fuck, that was not going to help Jon here.
Robb gave Theon a warning glare who sat up straighter.
“But he has another daughter,” Theon added in a haste. “Prettier if you ask me. Over there, talking to Lord Glover’s daughter—”
“I think I’m gonna go outside and find Ghost,” Jon mumbled and pushed back his chair, then made his way out of the hall while Robb and Theon exchanged glances.
“Did I make it worse?” Theon asked and Robb shrugged.
“Nah,” he said. “I doubt it.”
“And what of you?” Theon asked, leaning back. “Eager to be back in Winterfell already?”
Robb brushed a hand over his face. “That obvious?”
“Very obvious,” Theon said, then gave him a grin. “But hey, at least your lady is free to roam in the castle now that you’re not there to keep her captive in your bedchambers.”
Robb scoffed a laugh, then flipped him and took another sip of his ale.
They arrived in Winterfell at the hour of the wolf, a week after they left.
The last couple of hours had been a test on Robb’s willpower; ever since they had entered the Wolfswood he had been trying to keep himself from galloping his horse to the castle and leave the others behind. He knew that his lady was asleep—the whole castle was asleep, but he still couldn’t wait to have her in his arms and take in her sweet scent and see her, after torturous days of being away from her.
No matter how tired he was from the road, the mere promise of her presence was enough to make him feel refreshed as if he’d had a full night’s sleep rather than having spent hours on horseback.
He made his way into the keep with Grey Wind following him, leaving his horse to his squire to handle without a glance back. After climbing the stairs, he walked down the hallway and pushed his door open, but what greeted him was the sight of the dark and empty bedchambers, making him frown.
Where was his lady?
The bed was made and the hearth was empty, so it was clear that she hadn’t gone out for a stroll. He glanced around as if she could jump out of the shadows, then looked down at Grey Wind who wagged his tail at him.
“Do you know where she is?”
Grey Wind sniffed the air, then turned around to leave the room, this time with Robb following him. Even though Robb half expected him to lead him out of the keep, he was proven otherwise when the direwolf padded down the hallway, then went to sit in front of the closed door to his lady’s bedchambers and looked up at him.
“Good work,” Robb whispered and scratched Grey Wind’s head, then pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the room hitting his face, no doubt thanks to the fully lit hearth.
Considering she spent every night with him, he hadn’t been inside his lady’s bedchambers since they were wed, nor had he understood why she couldn’t just use their bedchambers, but now that he was seeing it for the first time, it made sense.
The room completely belonged to her.
As she had mentioned earlier, she was given the room with the best light, the huge windows letting the moonlight inside at night and sunlight in the morning. Her vanity was at the corner, and on the other corner, there were three panels of full length mirrors together, reminding him of a room divider. The frames were carved with flowers and goats, but on the top there were two snarling wolves, making him smile. The other side of the room was spared to her wardrobe and chests of accessories, he could already tell, seeing that one of them was left open.
And at the center of the room, there was the bed she laid, too lost in her dreams to notice his presence.
Even in her sleep she managed to take his breath away. For a moment, Robb wondered whether she knew just how enchanting she was, but all the thoughts in his head washed away as his gaze devoured her sleeping form, the furs drawn to her chest while she lay on her side, the strap of her nightgown slipped off one shoulder. He took a step towards the bed, and as if on cue, Frost’s head popped up behind her as she blearily blinked at him, then rested her head on her waist.
By the Gods, of course she had taken Frost from the stables so that she could sleep in the bed.
Robb heaved a sigh and made his way to bed to pick up the lamb, earning a soft bleat in return.
“You can stay with Grey Wind,” he muttered to her and opened the door to put her next to Grey Wind who had curled up by the door, as if he was on watch duty. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the tiny lamb was glaring up at him before she heaved a sigh, then plopped on top of Grey Wind in a dramatic manner, making the direwolf huff. Robb bit back a smile, then closed the door again to approach the bed.
Her scent filled his lungs as he carefully dipped his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck, running his fingertips down her arm. She shifted a little, muttering something into her pillow, and it was only when Robb pressed a kiss on her neck that the haze of sleep slipped off of her, making her jolt with a sharp breath.
“It’s me,” Robb said with a chuckle and an exhale left her before she grabbed the nearest pillow to hit him with it.
“You scared me!” she exclaimed, drawing a laugh out of him as she dropped the pillow to press a hand on her chest. “Seven hells, Robb!”
“I missed you too.” He grinned before stealing a kiss from her. “Though I must admit, being struck with a pillow was not the welcome I had in mind.”
She let out a giggle and pushed at his arm, still breathless.
“I feared you were some sort of a thief in the night.”
“No thief can enter the keep, my love.”
“Well, still!” she insisted and pulled herself up in the bed to lean her back to the headboard, fixing her hair. “How fared your visit?”
“Torturous.”
She sat up straighter, her eyes gleaming even in the dim room. “What did you bring me?”
Robb hissed in a breath.
“Ah,” he said. “I forgot about that.”
Teasing her was nothing new to him, and it always made him laugh when she got all flustered, but this time was different. His stomach churned at once when her grin faltered, that shine in her eyes getting dim as she blinked a couple of times in hesitation.
“Oh,” she said softly after a beat and tried to smile. “That’s alright, I have um—I have enough things anyway!”
Yeah no, he couldn’t take her sadness even if it was for a second.
“Right,” he said and reached into his doublet to pull out a small pouch. “I suppose you don’t need this then?”
Her jaw dropped and she gasped, then hit him with the pillow again.
“Robb!”
“I mean I could always throw it away—” He let out a laugh when she snatched it from his hand. “Or not.”
“You didn’t forget!”
“Of course I didn’t forget,” he told her. “If my lady wife requests something, she shall have it.”
She untied the pouch and turned it over, the necklace falling into her palm, making her breath hitch. It wasn’t overly intricate; tiny drop shaped blue-white gems dangling from two gold wires twisted around each other, but when Robb found it in the market of Torrhen’s Square at a merchant’s stall, all he could think about was how beautiful it would look around his lady’s neck.
“The merchant said it was—”
“Moonstone,” she finished his sentence for him, lifting her head from the necklace to beam at him. “It’s gorgeous, thank you! I love it!”
Before he could kiss her, she had already leaped out of the bed to rush to the full length mirrors on the other side of the room, holding the necklace over her neck, trying to see it from all angles. He pushed himself off the bed to make his way to her, and she fixed her hair so that he could clasp the necklace before he wrapped his arms around her torso, her sweet scent engulfing him. She looked down at the necklace, her hand shooting up to adjust the gemstones while he watched her in the mirror, desire making him nearly lightheaded.
“Whoever said husbands didn’t know how to choose gifts doesn’t know of you,” she said airily before turning in his arms to look up at him with a big smile, and Robb found himself mirroring it. “Thank you so much, it’s so beautiful!”
“Of course,” he muttered, pressing a kiss under her jaw. “And you look very beautiful, my lady. You and your gown.”
“And my necklace!”
“And your necklace.” He huffed a chuckle while his hands tugged at the laces of her nightgown, but she pulled back a little.
“Wait—” She reached back to feel the clasp of the delicate chain. “Help me take it off first?”
A wolfish grin curled his lips before he leaned in to kiss her, walking her back to the bed until her legs hit the edge of the bed and she fell on the furs with a small squeal that turned into the sweetest giggle when he all but pounced on her.
“But my necklace—”
“Keep it on,” Robb murmured, dipping his head to trail his lips down her neck. “I want to see you come undone wearing nothing but that.”
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: Saying goodbye to family is always difficult.
Word Count: 5,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Growing up in your family, you were led to believe some things were so certain that they could have been laws of nature.
You would have a complete change of wardrobe every year in addition to the gowns you had made for special days, such as your nameday or Margaery’s.
You would get a gift from your father whenever he had to travel to a different part of the realm and came back home.
You would get a monthly allowance of jewelry so that—according to your father— you could learn the importance of patience, though you never really understood why he was so insistent on that.
And most important of all; you would never be out of your family’s sight, but that was about to change and you were nowhere near ready.
Sleep decided to leave you early in the morning, while Robb was still deep in his slumber. It took you less than an hour to understand you wouldn’t be able to doze off again; your mind was way too troubled to give you such peace. You tried to move out of his arms as slowly as possible so that you wouldn’t wake him up, but his grip around your waist tightened before he buried his face to the crook of your neck with a small groan.
“Robb?” you whispered and he let out a sleepy hum that vibrated in his chest. “Are you awake?”
He lifted his head just a little to peek at the window before he dropped it back to your neck. “It’s barely morning.”
“I think perhaps I should go and see if my father needs anything.”
“He’s asleep,” he murmured into your skin. “Just like the rest of the castle. Like you and I should be.”
“But what if he needs something?”
“He needs rest before the road, sweeting,” he said, his voice deep and drowsy. “It’s a long way from here to the Reach. Let him sleep.”
You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach, but you took a trembling breath.
“But um, mayhaps he woke up early to get ready.”
“Not this early.”
“But Silas always sets out bef—”
“They won’t sneak out before you wake up,” he assured you, already half-asleep. “I promise.”
You nibbled on your lip, trying to remember whether any of your brothers had said anything about when exactly your father and the rest of the household would leave, but came up empty. Robb’s breaths turned into soft snores behind you, and you made sure not to wake him again as you slipped out of the bed, Grey Wind raising his head from where he lay by the fireplace. You scratched at his head, grabbed your dressing gown and put it over your nightgown, stealing a glance outside the window. Robb had a point; you were sure no one else was awake just yet, but you didn’t want to lose any more time to sleep when your whole family would be getting on the road today.
Your father’s chambers were the first one you tried, but when you knocked on the door, he didn’t answer. A quick peek into the room from the door made it clear that he was indeed asleep, so you closed the door as quiet as a mouse, then made your way to Silas’s door. Your time in the Reach had taught you not to barge into Silas’ bedchambers, so you knocked on the door and took a deep breath.
“Silas?” you called out from behind the door. “Are you awake?”
His voice didn’t sound sleepy at all when he answered: “What is it?”
“Are you alone?”
“Uh….no,” he said. “I’m not.”
You bit back a smirk, fighting the urge to say good morning to Jon.
“I’ll be in my bedchambers, can you come there when you can?” you asked. “I must talk to you.”
“Of course,” he said and you walked away from his door to enter the hallway that led to your own bedchambers, but the sight of Elinor stepping out of your room made you stop dead in your tracks. She seemed as shocked as you were to see you there, but she overcame it rather fast.
“What were you doing in my room?” you asked with a frown, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“My maids haven’t been able to find my favorite necklace, I thought maybe it was there.”
You made a face. “I have my own jewelry with taste, thank you very much.”
To your surprise, she didn’t even retort, instead she just walked past you and made her way out of the hallway. You rushed to your bedchambers in fear of her having done something to your gowns, and though they all looked untouched, you pursed your lips, then heaved a sigh.
“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Now I have to check all of them.”
You weren’t even close to being done inspecting the first chest when Silas arrived in your bedchambers, but for the first time in your life there were more pressing matters than your gowns, especially when your brother seemed to share your low spirits.
“Does Aunt Anya know you’re going there with the twins?”
“Perce sent a raven a few days back.”
You played with the intricate embroidery of the pillow in your lap. “Should be fun.”
He just shrugged his shoulders, sprawled on the sofa across from where you sat.
“It’s about time I met Braxton’s betrothed, I suppose.”
“He is so in love.”
“Yeah but he’s also a fool, so we need to make sure she can be trusted,” he pointed out, making you roll your eyes.
“Silas. Come on.”
“I just don’t want another Elinor.”
“Don’t remind me,” you muttered and tilted your head. “When you said you weren’t alone just now, was it Jon?”
“Mm hm.”
“How’s—” You motioned vaguely. “Will you two exchange letters?”
He bit inside his cheek.
“This affair will stay within the walls of Winterfell,” he said. “It was just entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. He knows.”
“Does he know, or do you just assume he knows?”
“He very clearly does, seeing that I suggested he could come with me to Dorne and he said no.”
Your eyes widened. “You did what?”
“Dorne is much less restricted, especially compared to the North—”
“You suggested he could come with you to Dorne?”
“And I knew he would say no, so drop it,” he said. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means. He’s just a good man who’d be happier in Dorne, that’s it.”
“Fine, fine…”
“And you?” He eyed you up and down. “Are you sure you’re staying here in the north?”
“Seeing that I’m wed to the heir to the north,” you joked with a small grin, “I kind of have to, I think.”
“That rule applies to other people, not you,” he reminded you. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You shook your head, your chest tightening.
“I do want to stay, Silas,” you managed to say. “Robb and I are in love.”
“Oh that didn’t escape anyone, the whole North talks about how he barely lets you out of his bedchambers—”
“And you shouldn’t worry about me,” you cut him off, a fire spreading over your cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me after you leave. I promise.”
He heaved a sigh, then brushed a hand over his face.
“I know,” he muttered. “I’ll still visit before I go back home from Dorne, let’s see if you feel the same after the honeymoon.”
A smile curled your lips. “Dorne and The Reach share a border, the North is on the other side. It’s not as if it’s on your way.”
“I’ll make it my way,” he pointed out. “Besides, I’m in no rush to go home. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay until Braxton’s wedding and come back here with you.”
Your smile faded from your lips as your eyes started burning, but you blinked back the tears.
“You can’t escape forever, Silas,” you rasped out and his gaze snapped to yours. He swallowed thickly, then gave you that perfect courtier smile of his.
“Maybe I can,” he said. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to the Reach when you’re not there. Maybe I’ll just join Cliff and become a pirate and never go home ever again.”
“A merchant.”
“Oh please, he’s a pirate,” he said with a scoff. “He’s just too rich for others to call him that. I’m his brother, I can say it.”
A burst of laughter escaped you despite the lump in your throat and that seemed to coax Silas’ own laugh that echoed in the room, the heaviness threatening to crush your ribcage lifting a little at the familiar sound.
“You haven’t seen his crew!” he insisted through laughter, gesturing at the window. “I have been losing sleep over how I’m going to explain it to father when we all get to White Harbor and he sees his ship—”
Someone knocked on the door and Eadith peeked her head in.
“My lady,” she said, her voice lacking its usual cheerful tone even though she tried to smile. “Good morning. Would you like me to help you get dressed?”
The lump in your throat felt like it was growing bigger when you realized this was going to be the last time she helped you with your gowns, but you managed to smile back and nodded your head.
“That’d be great, thank you Eadith,” you said and Silas got up from the sofa.
“I’ll go and check whether father has woken up,” he said. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He pressed a kiss on top of your head and left the room, closing the door behind him. You licked your lips and stood up as well, then made your way to the table and grabbed the small box on the table.
“Eadith,” you said and held it out. “This is for you.”
Her head shot up. “For me, my lady?”
“A small parting gift,” you said while she took it from you in the most careful manner, and lifted the lid, a gasp leaving her.
“My lady…”
The box was filled with gold coins, and on top of them laid a scroll, an emerald necklace, a pair of diamond earrings and a silk ribbon you had embroidered with flowers yourself.
“You’ve always liked that necklace and those earrings,” you said. “They’ll look much more beautiful on you than they ever did on me. I have a matching ribbon with that one, I made sure to embroider both of them the same. And the scroll is my recommendation letter, in case Elinor tries to test your patience. I’m quite certain it’ll open many doors for you, including House Tyrell’s. I’ll also send a letter to Lady Olenna if you’d like, she’ll be happy to have you in her service.”
A sob ripped itself from her chest and she covered her mouth in an attempt to cover it before you wrapped your arms around her to pull her into a hug.
“It’ll be fine,” you said, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound calm. “We’ll exchange letters, and it’ll all be fine. You enjoy the Reach for me, and I’ll enjoy the North.”
Breakfast had come way too fast for your taste, especially when you knew the servants were readying the carriages outside. Yet, you weren’t alone in your misery; Jon had barely touched his plate the whole breakfast, stealing looks at Silas who was uncharacteristically silent the whole time, only speaking when he had to answer a question. For some reason, Perceon had the same guilty look on his face as he would when he was a mere boy and did something he wasn’t supposed to; chewing inside his cheek and pouting his lips—the only difference was that he was now too tall to swing his legs back and forth off the edge of his chair. Though you knew your father wasn’t in his best mood, he covered it up very well, jesting and laughing with Lord and Lady Stark.
“Are you alright?” Robb’s deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts, making your head whip up before you willed yourself to smile.
“Of course.”
“You woke up early,” he pointed out. “And troubled.”
“By my own thoughts only,” you assured him, and he laced his fingers with yours, giving you a soft smile.
“It’s alright to be upset about their departure.”
Except it was not. At least not in front of the northerners in Winterfell.
You were more than aware of their perception of you, and how it had gotten even worse upon seeing you in shambles during Robb’s duel with Ser Fossoway. Their sarcastic remarks the next morning had been as subtle as it could’ve been expected of northerners, carrying a hint of pity at your naiveté, and you were not going to make the same mistake and crumble in front of them again.
Robb was different, but the rest of the north did not excuse or entertain sentimentality.
“I’m just worried about my father,” you said while a footman approached your father to mutter something in his ear. “I know Arys says he’s fine, and so does Maester Luwin, but…”
“But you remain unconvinced?” he asked with a playful glint in his eye, and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I just know he’s leaving too early for my liking.”
“I tried to persuade him to stay for another moon,” he told you, making you raise your brows. “Last night.”
“Did you?”
“Mm hm, so has my father. But your stubbornness is a family trait, it seems.”
You heaved a sigh and lifted your cup to your lips, but turned your head when you heard your father’s voice.
“My flower,” he said. “Come take a walk with me before we leave, hm?”
You blinked a couple of times in confusion, then put your cup on the table and pushed your chair back in a haste.
“Of course,” you said and rushed to him as he stepped down from the High Table, then both of you made your way out of the hall to the yard. You couldn’t help but notice that even the air felt colder than usual, but you chose not to comment on it and instead linked your arm through his while he led you to the sept grounds, then both of you sat down on the nearest bench.
It was rather peaceful today, despite the cold weather. This part of the yard wasn’t as crowded—probably because only Lady Stark went to the sept— so it was like a small, secluded corner away from the chaos of Winterfell. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, causing you to look up for a moment before you turned your gaze to him.
“I wish you would stay a bit longer,” you said after a beat and he gave you a gentle smile.
“There are people waiting for me, my dearest,” he said. “And when it comes to departure, I’m afraid no time feels long enough.”
Your vision got a little blurry from the tears rushing to your eyes, but you blinked them back as fast as you could.
“I know,” you said. “But you—father, you will be alright, will you not?”
“Oh don’t worry about me,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “I will be alright, and so will you.”
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise,” he assured you. “We’ll see each other soon enough, and until then, you have your mother’s spirit. If there’s anyone who’s going to flourish regardless of where she’s planted, it’s you. With or without me.”
A tear managed to escape your eye, but you wiped your cheek in a hurry.
“And if I don’t feel ready?”
“I’m afraid no one ever does,” he said, reaching out to engulf your hand in his. “But it’s life, my blossom. Happiness has a way of finding you, even though it may feel difficult to believe in times of parting.”
You nibbled on your lip and nodded.
“But I’ll miss you terribly,” you couldn’t help but rasp out, making him smile again.
“So will I,” he said. “You know, I told the same thing to Ned yesterday, sons and daughters are so different. Sons grow into men, but daughters…” He breathed out a laugh. “A daughter never stops being your little girl who fills your castle with her laughter as she runs in the hallways, no matter how much she’s grown. You’ll understand that in the future, and so will Robb.”
“If Robb is half as good of a father as you are, our children will be the luckiest in the realm,” you said. “Just as I am. I’ll never stop being thankful to the gods for making me your daughter, I—” You took a trembling breath. “Father, I love you so much.”
You could swear he had tears in his eyes, but he blinked them back and pulled you into a tight hug just like he would whenever you ran up to him early in the morning to talk his ear off when you were still a child. The mere memory was enough to make you feel like you were back in the Reach again, and if you closed your eyes, you could make yourself believe you were in the garden of your father’s castle, choosing a gown for a feast being your only worry instead of being away from your father or Silas.
“I love you too, my flower,” he whispered. “And I’m so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.”
You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, trying your hardest to swallow the sob threatening to climb your throat.
“I won’t,” you whispered into the wind. “I won’t, I promise.”
One of the many things you had learned back in the Reach was keeping your mask in place.
You had seen it multiple times with multiple people. Silas was probably the best at it; no one except you could ever read through him or have an idea about how he was feeling at any given moment. To outside, he was always in a good mood, his smile signaling both amusement and nonchalance at anyone and everyone it was directed to. You and Margaery were taught not to let the mask slip in that exact way your older brothers did not; anyone who so much as looked at you had to think you were untouched by sadness or worry no matter what situation you were in. You were to appear calm and unreadable not only to your enemies but also to your allies, and you were beginning to think that although no one in your life had thought of the north while teaching you those skills, it was going to be one of the most important weapons you would wield in here.
If you were to be Lady Stark in the future, the nobles in the yard, who were watching you like hawks right now, could not see you cry at your family’s departure.
“We’ll see you in Dorne,” Braxton told you while your father talked to Robb who was nodding solemnly to whatever he was saying, his hands clasped behind him, his back straight. “My wedding is next summer, I already talked to Robb. He’ll bring you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said. “And it’s about time I met your lovely betrothed! I’ll make sure to come at least a week before the wedding so that I can spend time with her.”
“Oh you’ll love her,” he said. “And she’ll adore you, I already know it. Right Perce?”
Perceon’s head whirled around and he cleared his throat. “Hm?”
“What’s going on with you today?”
“Nothing.” He shifted his weight. “Nothing, I just don’t like goodbyes.”
“It’s barely a goodbye, genius, she’s coming to the wedding.”
“I hate goodbyes too.” You reached out to squeeze Perceon’s hand and he tried to smile, his eyes darting over your face.
“And you’re sure you’ll be happy here?” he asked. “Because if you find it otherwise, you only need to send a raven and—”
“Silas would beat you to it,” Arys’ voice reached you before he clasped Perceon’s shoulder. “He memorized the secret pathways already.”
“I’ll send ravens to both Silas and you if I’m in need to saving,” you jested. “Hearing that does remedy my heartbreak of your departure even if it’s just a little. Thank you Perce.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mention it.”
“You’ll be sick of my letters, all of you,” you warned them, making them chuckle. “I’m warning you beforehand. I’ll report everything that’s happening here.”
“The reports will be; it snowed yesterday, it is snowing today, it will snow tomorrow,” Arys pointed out as you pushed at his arm. “I’m saying this as a future maester who knows of the North’s climate! Do you doubt my knowledge? Winter is coming and all that.”
“Maybe after Brax’s wedding, I’ll visit you in Oldtown,” Perceon said and Braxton shrugged.
“We can all go. Me, Myria and you.”
“You should,” Arys said. “None of you will want to go back to Dorne.”
“See, that’s a very bold claim—” Perceon started but Braxton elbowed him when Alton stepped closer to you.
“Hey,” he said after a beat and gestured at the carriages. “We’ve said goodbye to Lord and Lady Stark, and everything is ready, so…”
“Ah,” you said. “Very well.”
Perceon and Braxton exchanged glances while Arys rolled his eyes and kept his gaze on Alton as if he was trying to make him speak with mind power alone.
“Take care,” you said after a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence and Alton pursed his lips, then nodded his head.
“You too,” he said. “I hope you and Robb have a happy union.”
Perceon narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth but Braxton jabbed him in the ribs before he could say anything.
“It won’t be the same without you,” Alton added, unable to meet your eyes. “The castle.”
“It’ll be more peaceful,” you jested, a chuckle spilling from his mouth.
“Yeah,” he muttered more to himself. “Yeah, and quiet.”
Over his shoulder, you could see Elinor eyeing you up and down before she got in the carriage without so much as a word to you. Arys gritted his teeth, crossing his arms while Alton turned his head to look back at the carriage, then offered you a small smile.
“I’ll see you later,” he said. “Stay safe.”
He walked away from you to the carriage, and Perceon threw his head back.
“Are we sure he’s related to us?” he asked as Cliff made his way to you. “Are we sure he’s not a ward father decided to take in?”
Arys raised his brows. “I feel like father would’ve let us know at some point if that were the case, Perce.”
“I’m just saying, none of us was around when he was born.”
“When who was born?” Cliff joined the conversation and Perceon gestured vaguely in the direction of the carriage.
“Alton,” he said. “I refuse to believe we’re related.”
“Refuse it all you want, he’s still family,” Cliff said and threw an arm over your shoulder. “Speaking of family, are we really leaving you here?”
You smiled up at him. “Seems that way.”
“You’ll see me sooner than you see these three.” He gestured at the twins and Arys. “I meant what I said earlier. I do a lot of business in the White Harbor, I’ll make sure to visit Winterfell whenever I’m there.”
“Please do,” you told him. “Seeing you will make me happy beyond words.”
“But everyone is coming to my wedding,” Braxton pointed at all of you. “Cliff, I don’t care what kind of pirate business you’ll be busy with, you will be there.”
“Merchant. And yes, I will be.”
“Arys?”
“Oh I’m definitely coming, I need to meet the poor girl who willingly said yes to marrying you.”
“After she bested him in combat,” Cliff reminded him and Perceon grinned.
“I’ll tell all about that to their future children.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Silas stepping out of the keep with Jon following him not far behind, but he approached Theon while your brother made his way to you without so much as another glance in Jon’s direction. Lord and Lady Stark was now conversing with your father, and Silas heaved a sigh.
“Hey.” He smiled at you before turning to your brothers. “We’re ready to go, go bid farewell to Lord and Lady Stark and thank them.”
“You’d think we’re still children,” Braxton grumbled but they all walked away from you to Lord and Lady Stark to do as Silas asked.
“Is everything alright with you and…?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Of course,” he said. “Just uh, a last minute goodbye.”
“You’ll see each other when you come visit me,” you reminded him. “Which you will. A lot.”
“I will.”
Your throat started aching again but you looked down to pretend to fix your bracelet. “Promise?”
“Promise,” he said. “You remember all our secret codes for the letters?”
You nodded, still fiddling with your bracelet. “I will use them if they’re needed.”
“Good.”
You lifted your head from your bracelet once you made sure your expression would be serene for anyone who was watching you.
“Thank you Silas,” you managed to say as your other brothers started getting into the carriages. “For everything. I love you.”
He swallowed thickly, then pulled you into a tight hug so that he could hide his face into your hair.
“Remember,” he muttered. “Just like how we used to play monsters-and-maidens. I’ll save you from anything and everything, you just say the word.”
He pressed a kiss on top of your head, then pulled back to smile down at you as your father stepped closer to you.
“Well, my flower,” he said, pinching your cheek. “I guess I’ll see you in Dorne next summer.”
“And I shall have many tales to tell you,” you told him. “So much gossip too, but you must follow Arys’ advice until then.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Father!” you protested and he let out a boisterous laugh before giving you a hug.
“Take care, my blossom.”
“You too father.” You kissed him on the cheek, commanding yourself not to cry for what felt like the hundredth time today. He bowed at Lord and Lady Stark, then made his way to the carriage while Robb stepped closer to you to touch your lower back as if he wanted to assure you he was there. You entwined your fingers with his, leaning sideways to his arm as Silas mounted his horse.
“Robb, I like you, but I will kill you if you hurt her.”
Your eyes widened. “Silas!”
“I’ll hand you the sword myself if I ever hurt her,” Robb told him and you squeezed his hand.
“How about nobody kills each other?” you mused and Silas nibbled on his lip, then nodded at you.
“Be careful.”
“Be happy,” you replied and he scoffed a laugh, then cantered his horse out of the court yard like he couldn’t trust himself to be there any longer.
Your father stood by the carriage for a moment, watching you with a sad smile on his face as if he wanted to etch you into his memory. You forced yourself to smile back despite the heavy weight in your chest, then waved at him, coaxing a small chuckle out of him before he waved back, then got in the carriage. You sniffled when the carriage moved and watched it pass through the gate, Robb snaking an arm around your waist.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to retire for the day?”
The offer was way too tempting especially with the threat of tears rushing to your eyes, but you blinked fast, then gulped and shook your head.
“No,” you managed to rasp out. “I’ll be fine, my love. Thank you though.”
In your defense, you tried, you really did.
Throughout the day, Robb kept you within his sight like he half expected you to burst into tears at any moment, but you were too good of a courtier to let anything slip. You were all smiles all afternoon, you made small talk with your ladies-in-waiting, you helped Sansa decide what to embroider on her new gown, you had even entertain the ladies Lady Stark introduced you to with stories from the Reach.
It was only when Robb went to his father’s solar with a northern lord and you stepped away from the ladies that you turned your head to look for Silas in the hall, the joke you had thought of dying in your throat when you remembered he wasn’t there anymore.
Hence where you were now. Sitting on your and Robb’s bed, with Frost—who was brought to by a very confused maid per your request—resting her head in your lap while you stitched tiny flowers to a ribbon that was to be her leash. There was a heavy ache in your temples, no doubt because of how hard you had cried before you sent for Frost, but at least your sobs had calmed down a little, letting you focus on your work.
“I think you should have different colored ribbons,” you muttered to Frost. “For different days. So that you can match my gowns, no?”
She purred like a cat and you sniffled, then held the ribbon next to her head before you shook your head.
“Mayhaps I could stitch hearts on it too,” you said, running your fingers through her wool. “Flowers and hearts. And what else—wheats as well? For my house?”
Frost heaved a sigh, then nudged at your hand when you went back to stitching so that you would drop it and keep petting her instead. You smiled at her, then leaned down and pressed a kiss on her head.
“We can also braid the ribbons,” you muttered to her. “That would look pretty too.”
Frost bleated at you and as if on cue, the door to your bedchambers opened, making you turn your head to see Robb. Even you had to admit that you probably made a rather strange picture; surrounded by ribbons with a lamb happily resting on top of them, but Robb didn’t comment on it, the only clue to how funny he found it was the small twitch on the corner of his lips.
“Here you are,” he said. “I’ve been wondering where you were.”
You pouted your lips, then shrugged.
“I couldn’t….” you trailed off. “I needed some peace and quiet, away from everyone.”
He heaved a sigh, then made his way to the bed and lifted Frost easily, earning himself a bleat of displeased protest.
“Go play with Grey Wind,” he told her and placed her on the floor. “Go on.”
Frost bleated at him again, but ran out of the room, the click-clack of her hooves echoing in the hallway. You lowered your head, then stuck the needle to the side of the bed and started picking up the rest of the ribbons just so that you could keep yourself busy, but your sniffle gave you away when Robb sat beside you. A sob ripped itself from your chest while he pulled you into his arms without so much as a word and you wiped your eyes, his pleasant scent soothing the pain in your chest just a little.
“They all left,” you managed to say, your throat tightening. “Silas too.”
“I know.” He shushed you gently when you hiccupped, pressing a kiss on top of your hair while he cradled the back of your head, his other hand rubbing your back. “I know, lamb.”
“I just thought of something to tell him—and he’s not—he’s not here.” You hiccupped again, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger as you buried your face to Robb’s chest. “He’s not here and my father isn’t here and Margaery isn’t here, they’re all away and I feel so—so utterly alone...”
“I’m here, sweeting,” he said, his voice soft. “And I promised you on your very first night here, remember? You will never be alone here.”
The memory was enough to make you smile even with the ache in your chest.
“You promised as Benjen the servant,” you murmured, your tone so low that it was almost inaudible, and he hummed.
“I’m still at your service,” he said, drawing a teary giggle out of you. “And very well then, if my beautiful wife wants me to promise as her husband, I shall follow her wishes. You’ll never be alone here, my love. No matter what, you’ll always have me.”
You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, and he ran his knuckles over your cheek to wipe the tears away while you played with the laces of his shirt.
“Even with the flimsy gowns?”
“Especially with the flimsy gowns,” he corrected you in such a solemn manner that a simple listener would’ve thought you were talking of the future of the realm. “Why do you think I said yes to Braxton so fast when he invited us to Dorne? So that you can wear even flimsier gowns, I’m told that’s the norm there.”
Your laughter echoed in the room. “Robb!”
“Oh now you dislike honesty, is that—” His question was interrupted when you pushed at his arm and he easily caught your hand before you fell on the soft furs with him on top of you. A giggle escaped you despite the tears in your eyes, and he dipped his head to give you a curt kiss, then pulled back to let you breathe as you sniffled again.
Gods, even with all this sadness in your heart, you still couldn’t help but realize how handsome he was for the hundredth time.
“It’ll be okay, lamb,” he assured you. “And you will see them soon enough, I promise.”
You didn’t know it back then but Robb was right; though not all of them, you would indeed see most of your family again soon enough.
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 yield 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 yields 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.”
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, making herself busy with the fur before she cleared her throat.
“Speaking of questions,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
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 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 sat up 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, his heart galloping in his chest. Her fingers brushed over his palm, her gentle touch barely there as if she was hesitant, but then she took his hand in hers to look down at the tiny scab 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 before she frowned slightly and raised her eyes to meet his.
