Of little worry
pairings: ormund hightower x wife reader
summary: people are asking about an heir when your marriage just begins six months ago
c/w: this is not dark or canon ormund, he's a dream husband here, protective husband stance, just fluff, not talking about heavy stuff
Your marriage with Ormund has been starting off good at the beginning, even at betrothal. There's not been a huge issue with him, he tries to be the best man that he is and holds your hand as he gently asks what causes that little pout in your face which you always deny isn't there. You are blessed to have him as your husband, the freshly given position not once reducing the man you know before the ceremony.
He takes things cautiously, always careful with planning and consideration to you. And in the days before you're announced as husband and wife before the Sept, he made it clear that he wanted the early days to be yours alone, knowing each other deeper and exploring the vulnerable pieces people only discover when they're in the early sunlight of a marriage. That being plain that he doesn't want both of you to rush in the matter of a child.
You have no doubt in his sayings. But it settles in your chest differently when he openly defends you when someone dares question it to you in front of him.
It's a guest staying in Old Town after a successful alliance with House Hightower. Both sides are content and accepting of the final decision of the discussion, though there was a slight tension in the middle of it.
As the Lord of Oldtown, it becomes Ormund's obligation to host the supper for the guest, with you introducing the famous dish at your husband's side. They look pleased and you both exchange glances in triumph as you sit on the dinner chair.
Small talks are made, conversation chattered as the clinking of forks against the plates fill the hearty room. Only when the wife of the lord turns her head to you, look at you intently with her cruel smile as she asks you a question.
"Your marriage is truly favored by the Gods, it only leaves us to a gap that causes us nothing but sincere concern."
You continue cutting your meat, its taste is customized to your preference since the first week you stay as the lady of the house. The cooks and the servants adore you, the light and easy way you manage the household, efficient yet kind to them. Some of them theatrically praise you and your husband, saying woven together by God. You only manage a small smile, yet deeply grateful you're surrounded by benevolent companies that welcomes your new presence at their service with willingness.
You don't bother yourself to answer the double meaning question, completely peaceful just enjoying your supper, knowing where the intention leads.
"That's very thoughtful of you to concern yourself with us. Pray, tell me, my lady. What troubles you?" Ormund says with a calm voice.
"It is that Old Town is in its glory in your hand, my lord. It leaves one wondering whether we'll ever see the heir to continue your legacy." She continues, her husband doesn't seem to be interested in what she's doing, not stopping yet not disagreeing.
Ormund straightens his posture, giving them a small smile as he pours their glass with more wine in a perfectly collected manner.
"I'm sure the Gods will show us their benison when the time comes."
He looks at her husband, then directly into her face.
"Your concern honors me, my lady, yet I ask that you set it aside. Let us continue the supper."
The underlying warning in his seemingly courteous tone makes your lips lift slightly, which you cover with the doublet as you sip your wine.
Not satisfied with what your husband gives her, she takes turns to stare at you, her gaze grows bolder, not as subtle as before.
"I was hoping my lady would be so kind to shed light on the matter." She says with more emphasis in her tone as she addresses you.
You pass a neatly folded napkin across your mouth, the movements unhurried.
"I fear it is not a complicated reason. Lord Ormund never once burdens me with the pressure of an heir. You are right, he's an outstanding lord and head of the house. Above all else, he's a good lord husband."
At your straightforward explanation, Ormund catches the unspoken attitude at the end of it.
He is my husband. Need I say more?
He can't help the amusement in his features, though he tries to keep it down. His hand finds yours under the table, your fingers tangle perfectly like they always have, his thumb graze tenderly on your palm.
Not to console you, he knows the comments don't even rattle you, and it warms his heart at how much trust you place on him, how his words resolve in your very being, give you the certainty that he surely is by your side.
The lady does not form a further reply, instead busying herself with her meal as she avoids your eyes.
"You should try the meat, my lady, the cooks prepared it to my usual taste."
The hour is late and you already retire to your chamber that you share with Ormund. To be fair, you only require yours for dressing, but you spend the night clinging to the sheets in the arms of your husband.
You stand in the mirror, untangle the braids of your hair, already in the nightgown.
At the reflection, you trail the movement of his as he enters and makes way to you.
"Let me." His voice grows quieter and lower in the dark of night, his hands carefully draw apart the woven strands of your hair.
"It was quite an eventful supper."
"It certainly was."
You relax under his touch. "Do you think they like the seasoning of the meat? It was also the tender and—the texture was just perfect."
He shakes his head slightly at your antics.
"Yes, I'm sure they like the meal that you had the cooks prepared specifically to your preference." Ormund lightly grabs your shoulder to turn you around and face him, while his palms rest comfortably at your waist.
"You are hardly one to make that claim. Who ate two portions of them last week?"
You place your hand on his chest, still covered with his doublet. You tease, remind him of his not so poised behavior as he asks the servant to bring him another plate.
"Ah, this is nowhere getting fair. We should retire for the night before you throw another record of my rather unbecoming manners."
You raise your brows. "Using an excuse when you're already losing? That's not what one can call dignify, lord husband."
"Who says anything about dignified?" His eyes crinkle in that lovely shape you adore, his sweet smile forming on his lips, clearly proud of his little unseemly jest.
You can't help your laugh at his poor attempt, the effect always drops to funny moments rather than seductive atmospheres. He laughs along with you, pulling your body closer to his.
"We won't have that tonight then."
You say in final as you pull down his doublet and press your lips to his. He responds instinctively, his head leans to the side, allowing him to take more of you, as his hand caresses the low of your back through the nightgown. And you know deep in your heart that you are safe with him and he'll stand beside you without question, tonight was only one little proof of his unshakeable constancy.
a/n: first ormund fic is done, would love to hear your opinions in the comments!


















