A.N: My loves, you're absolutely amazing, thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Drinks can lead to recklessness.
Word Count: 4,5k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
As the future lord of Winterfell, Robb was no stranger to expectations. It was as natural as breathing at this point; he was the heir to House Stark, so he was expected to follow his father’s footsteps, and take over his responsibilities when the time came. He was expected be a fair and honorable lord to their vassals and to the North, he was expected to make sure his people and his house survived in the winter, and of course, he was expected to wed.
Beyond others’ expectations, he had let himself hope that in time, he and his wife would grow to love each other just as his parents did, but this?
He hadn’t expected this.
“I cannot believe you betrayed me like that.”
Jon lowered his cup and ran a hand over his face, heaving an exhausted sigh. “Robb—”
“My own brother,” Robb said, glaring at him, “has stabbed me in the back.”
“I only interrupted you and your betrothed!”
“My wife!” he corrected him. “We were in the middle of something.”
“Aye, kissing.”
Robb leaned in so that Jon could hear his hiss in the crowded hall. “It could’ve been more if you hadn’t interrupted!”
Jon shot him a look that was the perfect combination of pity and disbelief.
“As if she’d let you do that in the Godswood,” he snarked. “Besides, you’re lucky it was me and not father. He sent a maid first, the poor woman came back to say she couldn’t interfere because you two were yelling at each other.”
“We were but that was before.” Robb let out a breath, a smile pulling at his lips. “We’re in love.”
“Congratulations,” Jon said drily. “Hasn’t escaped me or anyone else in the castle.”
“I cannot believe my mother is hoarding her like a dragon with its treasure, she all but forced her to go with her right after breakfast.”
“She is going over the details of tomorrow’s ceremony with her,” Jon corrected him. “Your wedding.”
“Well yes, but—” he stopped talking for a moment when he saw Theon making his way to them. “but everything has been handled, I’m told.”
“She’s a southerner,” Jon said, “she might not know everything about a northern wedding.”
“I could’ve explained it to her,” Robb insisted and nodded at Theon. “Hey.”
Theon sat down as well with a grin on his face. “Ready for tonight?”
Robb blinked a couple of times. “Hm?”
“Your last night as an unmarried man!” Theon said, clasping a hand over his shoulder to shake him slightly. “Your last night of freedom, Stark!”
“Theon, I know this will sound difficult to believe because I’ve been rather subtle about it,” Robb deadpanned, “but I actually want to wed my lady.”
“Subtle as a dagger to the throat,” Jon commented before turning to Theon. “I fear to ask what you’ve planned.”
Theon wiggled his brows. “Then don’t.”
“Whatever you’ve planned, it cannot take long,” Robb told him, making Theon’s eyes widen.
“We’re not coming back home until the morning!”
Robb scoffed a laugh. “That’s not happening.”
“Robb, come on!”
“You two can stay outside and drink all you want—”
“Your brothers-in-law are coming as well,” Theon said and Robb shrugged his shoulders.
“All of you can stay outside and drink all you want,” he corrected himself. “I’m coming back to the castle before midnight.”
“Why?”
Robb shot him a look.
“My mother has all but taken my wife hostage,” he said, “And I’d like to spend time with her.”
“You’ll spend your whole life with her!”
“Wait a moment.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like one of the plans for tonight includes a visit to the brothel?”
“Because it does.”
Robb rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to a brothel, I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“Yes but it’s your last night as an unwed man!” Theon insisted as Robb sipped his drink. “It’s a special occasion! All men do it, she won’t mind—”
A chuckle escaped Robb and he lowered his cup.
“I don’t want anyone but her,” he told him. “We’ll drop you off at the brothel at the end of the night.”
Theon huffed out and turned to Jon. “Snow?”
“As always, no.”
“I’ll just convince one of the Greensteds then,” Theon muttered. “I’m sure Silas will come.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Jon said, causing Theon to give him a quizzical glance. “He doesn’t like paying for it, sees it beneath him.”
“What?” Theon sounded as if Silas had come to the table to personally offend him. “How do you know that?”
“He said it once.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember.” Jon shrugged his shoulders. “Some time earlier.”
“And you two are best friends all of a sudden?” Theon asked while a footman approached their table, then bowed his head.
“My lord, your father wants to see you in his solar.”
Robb nodded his head, then downed his drink and got up from his seat.
“Robb.” Theon stopped him. “If you’re serious about coming back before midnight—”
“I am.”
“Then we’re skipping dinner to start earlier.”
Robb opened his mouth to argue, then exchanged glances with Jon and heaved a sigh.
“Fine,” he groaned. “Tell Silas and the rest.”
“Yes!” Theon pumped his fist in air in victory, coaxing a laugh out of Jon while Robb walked away from them to go to his father’s solar, shaking his head despite the fond smile on his face.
His father was talking to the swordsmith but he dismissed him when Robb got there so that they could talk alone. Robb frowned slightly, clasping his hands behind him, his back straight.
“Father.”
His father motioned at the seat across from his desk.
“Maester Luwin says Ser Gwayne is healthy enough to attend the wedding.”
Robb’s jaw clenched as he sat down. “Is he?”
“And when he does as it’s his right, you will be respectful.”
This was even more proof that he should have thrown more punches to break his face and a couple of bones regardless of his mother had told him, but judging by the look on his father’s face, he already knew what he was thinking.
“Robb,” he said. “You won. The duel is over, let it rest.”
Robb gritted his teeth. “He already renounced the guest right, he doesn’t really have the—”
“He does,” his father cut him off. “That was for the duel. Now that it’s finished, so will your hostility. You’re the heir, your feelings on the matter cannot affect your judgement.”
Robb gave a slight shrug, leaning back in his chair.
“Theon tells me there’s to be a celebration tonight,” his father added, making his head shoot up. “In Wintertown.”
“Aye.” Robb cleared his throat. “We’ll skip dinner but I’ll be back before midnight. The guys will probably come around dawn, I’d say.”
“Jon and Theon and…?”
“The Greensteds.”
“All of them?”
“I don’t know if Theon invited Alton, now that I think of it,” Robb muttered. “But yes, I’ll ask him.”
“He’s going to be the head of the house after Lord Greensted, you must be on good terms with him.”
“As long as he’s on good terms with my lady, I’ll be on good terms with him.”
His father kept his gaze on him, then cleared his throat.
“Speaking of your lady,” he said, drumming his fingertips on the table. “You two seem to have come to a solution with your disagreement?”
Right.
His father knew about their argument, that was the reason why he had sent Jon.
Robb chewed on his lip and nodded. “Mm hm.”
“In fact, you were almost too…joyful, when you came back to the Great Hall.”
“Too joyful?” Robb repeated with a confused frown. “Should we not be? We’re to be wed tomorrow.”
“You should, but it hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention how something between you has changed right before the wedding, after you disappeared into the Godswood with no one to see you,” his father said. “And you’ve been quite impatient lately.”
Realization dawned on him like a ton of bricks and he threw his head back, his whole face on fire. “Father…”
“If something has happened in the Godswood—”
“Nothing has happened!” he insisted. “I don’t—I was unaware the rumors would arise every time we’re out of sight.”
“Just be patient until the wedding and avoid causing any more rumors,” his father said, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. “Your mother is right, with the way you have been behaving, we should throw our own celebration if we manage to get through this wedding without a scandal.”
“There’s no scandal,” Robb said, his ears burning. “My lady is too careful about that.”
His father lowered his hand to shoot him an incredulous look.
“And not you?”
“Why would I? We exchanged vows in front of the weirwood tree—”
“You did what?”
“Before the gods,” Robb continued as if his father didn’t cut him off. “We’re wed already.”
His father stared at him for a couple of seconds in complete silence, then took a deep breath as if reminding himself to keep his composure.
“The wedding is tomorrow,” he said slowly. “You’re telling me you two went ahead and wed before that?”
“We didn’t plan it, it was an accident.”
“An accident—Robb, who was the witness? Jon?”
“Why does everyone keep bringing up witnesses?” Robb wondered aloud. “It was just us but it matters not. She’s my wife now and I’m her husband, though she insists we’re not wed yet. It doesn’t count without the witnesses, she says.”
“At least one of you refuses to abandon logic when it comes to this union,” his father muttered. “Do you think you can wait one more day to start calling her your wife in public?”
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“No,” his father stated, making him huff, but someone knocked on the door before he could retort.
“A moment,” his father called out and pointed at Robb who stood up from his seat. “You’re not telling your mother any of this, do you hear me?”
“Sure.”
“And Robb, if I so much as see you in the hallway to her bedchambers…”
Robb held up his hands, gesturing surrender at his father’s warning tone.
“I’ll be in Wintertown,” he said as he walked to the door. “I doubt I’ll get to see her until tomorrow.”
Well, no.
That was a lie.
He was going to make sure he saw her until tomorrow, especially when he came back from Wintertown, but his father looked like he was two seconds away from sending him to the Wall, so he didn’t need to hear that.
This had to be some sort of intentional backstab both from his father and his mother, because his mother still hadn’t left his lady be by the time he was to leave for Wintertown. Not only that, she had all but sent him away from her door when he went there to see his lady before they left, saying that she and her seamstress and multiple maids were busy with her wedding gown to make sure it would look perfect tomorrow.
He had only had the chance to hear her giggle before she wished him a fun night before his mother closed the door in his face and Theon pulled him away.
The alehouse was crowded with both northerners and southerners tonight, the food warm and the drinks unending. Cliff had somehow managed to start a game of cards that had no shortage of willing participants even though they kept losing, Arys was by his side, sipping his ale and watching the game, Theon was already drunk and talking to a couple of southern lords, and the twins were exchanging stories about Dorne and the rest of their family, especially Alton who had kindly turned down the offer to join them, saying that Elinor had been feeling rather down lately.
But at least everyone seemed to be having a good time.
Well, everyone but Silas, who had been uncharacteristically silent save for a couple of jokes.
“I wouldn’t have come if Myria asked me not to either,” Braxton said. “Trust me, I blame Alton on a lot of things, but not on this particular instance.”
Perceon made a face. “Except that Myria wouldn’t have asked you not to come, because she knows you have your own life and friends just like she does.”
“Myria?” Jon asked and Braxton turned to him.
“She’s my betrothed.”
“You have a betrothed?”
“Mm hm.”
“I’m guessing from the smile on your face that you’re happy about that union?” Robb asked and Perceon let out a laugh.
“He’s been in love with her for a while now,” he said. “Ever since she beat him at a sparring contest.”
“She’s such a good warrior,” Braxton said, pride clear in his tone. “She’s good at everything, really.”
“Just not good at rejecting a less skilled warrior for some reason,” Perceon joked and Braxton scoffed.
“She rejected me just fine at first,” he told Jon and Robb. “Merely for the fun of it, she says. I was put through utter torment for almost a year.”
Robb’s eyes found Cliff and Arys over his shoulder before he returned his gaze to Braxton.
“But hey.” Braxton tilted his cup in his direction. “I don’t care how far it is, you are bringing my sister to Dorne for my wedding, Stark.”
Robb smiled and nodded his head, barely aware of the way Silas took a huge sip of his ale.
“I am,” he assured Braxton. “I’ve never seen Dorne, but everyone says it’s beautiful.”
“Once you’re there, you won’t want to come back,” Perceon told him. “Trust me. It’s the most beautiful place in the world.”
“Once the winter arrives in the North, you can just wait it out in Dorne.” Braxton shrugged his shoulders, making Robb chuckle.
“That’s not an option I’m afraid,” he said. “But we’ll certainly come to Dorne for your wedding. And Perceon’s, one day.”
“That day will never come!” Perceon protested immediately. “We’ve divided the family in a certain way. Alton and Brax and our sister will be the ones who wed. Arys is out of the equation, because you know—”
“The celibacy vow.”
Braxton covered his laugh by scoffing into his cup, his gaze following Arys, Cliff and Theon who were making their way to them through the crowd.
“Because even he has to play by some rules, is what I was going to say. But me and Cliff and this heartbreaker here,” Perceon slapped Silas’s leg, “will not ever wed.”
“You won’t?” Jon asked Silas who snapped out of his thoughts, then shook his head.
“No.”
“No sons or daughters?”
“I cannot be bothered with the wailing of babes,” he said and motioned at his brothers. “I raised all these fools, that’s enough for me. No reason to wed.”
“Not for a lack of prospects, mind you,” Cliff slapped his shoulder and flung himself next to him while Theon took the seat across from Robb. Arys sat next to Perceon, snatching his drink out of his hand.
“Hey!”
“Go get your own.”
“That was my own, prick!”
“I forgot mine back at the gambling table,” Arys said as if it was the perfect explanation, taking a huge sip before motioning for another cup at the innkeeper. “What are we talking about?”
“Marriage.”
“Ah.” Arys grimaced. “How dull.”
Theon grinned. “Not everyone can take a vow of chastity, my friend.”
“Vows are open to interpretation,” Arys told Theon. “I made a vow not to father any children, which I shall not. Anything else is no more than a small obstacle which anyone can walk around.”
Robb and Jon exchanged glances.
“But vows are sacred,” Jon said and Arys made a noise of disagreement.
“To you,” he said. “And no gods have come down to punish me, I’d gather they’re fine with my choices.”
Silas reached out to smack him in the back of the head, making the twins burst in laughter. “Maybe don’t say that in front of our very northern brother-in-law?”
He did very much mind to see vows being perceived as unimportant and unbinding, but he held up his hands.
“Your gods,” he pointed out, “not mine.”
“There you go.”
“Speaking of vows.” Cliff said. “Any uneasiness about tomorrow, Stark?”
Robb sipped his ale. “Uneasiness?”
“Yeah, you’ll be forever bound to our sister.”
“I am already,” Robb said, earning a warning cough from Jon, but no one seemed to have picked up on that. “And to be honest, it cannot come soon enough.”
“It cannot come soon enough for me either,” Jon commented while Theon nodded fervently. “At least after you’re wed I’ll have some peace of mind.”
Robb flipped him without so much as a glance in his direction.
“Gods, I’m still not used to picturing her as the Lady of the North,” Cliff commented as Silas swallowed thickly. “But she seems to like you, that’s good enough for me. I do business at White Harbor sometimes, I’ll be sure to visit.”
“The hospitality of Winterfell is yours,” Robb said. “My lady will be very happy to see you, I’m sure.”
Silas downed his drink and stood up.
“I’ll take a walk to get some fresh air, excuse me,” he muttered and made his way through the crowd to go outside. Arys shook his head slightly while the twins exchanged glances, and Jon stood up before Robb could.
“It’s easy to get lost at night,” he said to the table. “I’ll take a walk with him, it’s too hot here anyway.”
Robb watched him cross the room to step outside, and Braxton raised his hand to motion for another bottle.
“Well then, heir to the North,” he said. “It’s your last night before your wedding. While I’m certain you’re in love with your soon to be lady wife, you are still obligated to get drunk.”
While the southerners did not take all the vows seriously, it appeared that there were exceptions because by the time Robb went back to Winterfell, he was drunk.
Well, tipsy.
He knew better than to appear drunk in public as the heir to Winterfell. His father would have his head on a spike otherwise, so he had made sure that he didn’t stumble or anything as he left the rest of the party behind, insisting that he had to wish his lady goodnight before tomorrow. He hadn’t seen her since breakfast, first because of his parents and then because of Theon, but he was not going to end the day before he talked to her.
It wasn’t even midnight yet, surely she was awake.
He meant to knock light and whisper, but all the drinks in his system seemed to have affected him more than he had assumed.
“My lady!” His voice boomed in the hallway the moment his knuckles touched the wood, the sound of rushed footsteps reaching his ears before the door swung open.
Seven Hells, she was so beautiful.
Robb couldn’t even bring himself to snap out of the daze that settled upon his mind at the sight of her. She looked like a dream that decided to grace him with the vision of her, and Robb half wondered whether she would disappear into the fog in her room if he touched—
Why was there fog in her room?
“My betrothed!” she said breathlessly, opening the door wider so that he could see the maids preparing her a bath. “The excitement of tomorrow did not let me sleep so I asked for a bath, and your maids were kind enough to draw me one at such hour. How kind of you to come to let me know you’ve returned just as I asked you to, I feared you would not!”
…She hadn’t asked him to.
“Come, tell me what mischief my brothers have been up to!” She stepped out of the room and grabbed him by the arm, closed the door behind her, and tugged him to the other side of the hallway.
“How are you so beautiful?” Robb breathed out in awe and a smile pulled at her lips despite the chastising glare she gave him.
“Are you drunk?”
“I don’t get drunk in public,” he defended himself while she leaned back to the stone wall to look up at him, still smiling.
“You appear drunk.”
He ran a hand over his face, forcing himself to focus. “I drank a little.”
“How much is a little?”
“Some ale, wine,” he listed, absentmindedly playing with her loose hair. “Mead. Cliff brought rum apparently...”
“Sounds a lot,” she commented. “Is everyone back in the castle safe and sound?”
“I came back, they’re still there,” he said. “I uh…I wanted to tell you earlier but my mother kept you hostage—”
“She was kindly helping me with some last minute details about my gown.”
“But I don’t want any other misunderstandings between us,” he continued as if she didn’t cut him off. “And knowing Theon, he’ll be joking about it. Some of them will go to a—do you know what a brothel is?”
She pressed her lips together as if trying to hold back her laugh. “I’ve heard of it.”
“Aye, some of them will go to a brothel, I think. I mean Theon will for sure, I don’t know who he’ll drag with him. But I didn’t—I didn’t go. And I don’t want you to misunderstand it, so I’m telling you beforehand I didn’t go.”
She raised her brows, tilting her head to the side in an amused manner.
“Oh?” she said. “Why not?”
“I don’t go to those places, and I don’t want anyone but you—and it’s your husband.”
“I know who you are Robb, you’re standing in front of me.”
“No, you called me your betrothed just now,” he corrected her. “You should be calling me your husband.”
“And I will,” she said, a playful light glimmering in her beautiful eyes, “starting tomorrow night.”
“No I meant now,” he whined. “We’re already wed—”
She shushed him, looking around in in the hallway. “Not so loud!”
“I’m your husband,” he insisted. “You should call me such.”
“Will you call me your wife if I call you my husband, then?” she asked with a teasing smile and he carefully cupped her face in both hands, coaxing a giggle out of her as he pressed his lips on her forehead.
“My wife,” he murmured and lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose. “My lamb.” His lips brushed over hers. “My love.”
He didn’t believe in the new gods or their practices or their promises, but Robb was quite sure that she was the eighth heaven.
For once she didn’t withdraw from the kiss, instead she let him pull her closer, a small gasp leaving her the moment his arm tightened around her waist, his other hand cradling the back of her head. Desire shot through him faster than an arrow through his heart, sending a shiver down his spine as her pleasant scent surrounded him, swirling around him like the sweetest summer day, filling his lungs in warmth and sunshine.
Nothing but her was real.
Nothing but her and how good it felt to have her in his arms, and how her kiss managed to silence everything in his mind, and—
And how he needed more.
Her skin was softer than any silk he ever touched as he kissed his way down her throat, her fingers curling in his hair, a small gasp taking her breath away the moment his lips traced down where her heartbeat was the strongest, the flimsy gown keeping her body hidden from his gaze, though not from his touch. He blindly reached down to grab the smooth fabric of her skirt to bunch it up in his hands, slowly pushing it up as he got on his knees, but as soon as he did, she let out a surprised squeal, pushing her skirt down.
“Wh—what’re you—?”
Robb gave her a grin despite his heavy lidded gaze as he looked up at her, his hands going to her hips to squeeze them.
“Can a man not kiss his wife?”
She gawked at him.
“But you…” she stammered and swallowed thickly, then tugged at the arm of his shirt so that he would stand up, her eyes not leaving his face even once. “How—?”
His mind was still hazy with desire, yet he couldn’t help but chuckle before he stole a chaste kiss from her lips, cupping her cheek.
“I’ll show you how if you let me.”
She blinked a couple of times as if trying to focus, her mouth half agape in confusion.
“…But you have a beard.”
He tilted his head in confusion. “Hm?”
“Your beard!”
“What of it?”
“I’ve heard of such um—such practices,” she stammered, her cheek growing hot under his palm. “Back in the Reach, there was a lady who told me and Margaery about it, but I brushed it off because I assumed it was a…a regional custom.”
He tried his hardest to keep a straight face. “A regional custom?”
“My skin is very sensitive, you know that!” she whined, coaxing a laugh out of him which she responded by shoving at his arm, pouting her lips almost petulantly. “I’m serious! It sounds like it’d be—um, it’d cause discomfort to the lady. In the North I mean, seeing that beards are fashionable here unlike in the Reach.”
By the Gods, she was the sweetest creature to ever walk the realm.
“And I know you like to tease me but I don’t see how it’d—”
She was cut off when he kissed her again, the rest of her sentence turning into a soft sigh against his lips but the bliss was shattered when her maid’s voice carried into the hallway, causing her to withdraw from him immediately.
“My lady, your bath is getting cold!”
“I’m coming, Eadith!” she called out and took a step but he grasped her wrist to pull her back, making her giggle.
“Don’t leave yet,” he said, aware of the pleading tone of his voice but she pecked him on the lips, skillfully wriggling out of his grip as she turned around to give him a proud grin, walking backwards while he stepped towards her.
“I shall see you tomorrow my lord—”
“Your husband,” he corrected her and made a move to catch her arm but she jumped out of his reach with an excited squeal that turned into a giggle, the pleasant sound echoing in the hallway before she swept a well-trained curtsy.
“I shall see you tomorrow my husband,” she beamed at him and whirled around to rush to her bedchambers, the silky skirt of her gown flowing behind her, light as a whisper. Her happy laugh reached outside as she closed the door behind her, her sweet scent still clinging to air, making his heart gallop in his chest.
Just one more night.
One more night, and then she was going to be in his arms.
Forever.
Grey Wind let out a howl outside somewhere in the Godswood, making Robb turn his head before he let out a breath and willed himself to walk away from her door, running a hand through his hair.
“I know,” he muttered as if the direwolf could hear him, his heart still beating in his ears. “Trust me, I know.”
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