a thought: your husband sending you letters while away at war, letters you always have to burn in case of spies and thieves...but not his name.
Never his name, simply initials scrawled at the end of the parchment in black ink.
You always rip that little piece away and save it, keeping the scraps in a wooden keepsake box with a few other tokens. Dried flowers, little trinkets, love notes you had gotten to keep...and scraps of parchment, some stained with your lipstick, his name over and over and over again.
Gwayne Hightower ♡ Ormund Hightower ♡ Tyrion Lannister ♡ Tyland Lannister ♡ Robb Stark ♡ Jon Snow ♡ Cregan Stark ♡ Edmure Tully ♡ Jace Velaryon ♡ Luke Velaryon ♡ Aemond Targaryen ♡ Daeron the Daring ♡ Roderick Dustin ♡
Hi, I wanted to request an Edmure Tully x reader where the reader is daughter to a bannermen of Robb’s(either a Bolton or a Karstark as I want reader to have some tension with her husband). She was fostered at Winterfell, under Cat’s care, so she and Robb knew each other before marriage. But after she notices her house begin to turn against Robb—whether that’s her father Roose taking notice of how Robb isn’t likely to win or because Robb executed her father Rickard Karstark—tensions grow in the marriage. Reader feels alone and no one seems to notice, except for Edmure. Reader would feel guilty for these feelings for a man so close to her husband, but Robb makes little effort to try and rectify their issues. She goes back and forth between feeling guilty when she has her suspicions that Robb had been sneaking around with Jeyne Westerling(or Talisa if you want to go off the show), so she feels she’s just as bad as him for feeling what she does for Edmure.
If you don’t want to write for Edmure, I think this could also work with Theon. It’d just have to be Talisa used rather than Jeyne since I think Talisa comes in earlier in the show than Jeyne does in the books. Overall, I kind of want this angsty marriage between Robb and his wife, which results in her growing a little too close to another man who’s close to her husband.
Sorry for the long request, and thanks for reading.
Winter Without Snow
- Summary: When Robb left you in the winter of your marriage, Edmure was there to keep you warm.
- A/N: Thank you for sending this to me, I've enjoyed writing it last night. 🙂
The hall is cold again tonight. You sit at the long table with the other northern lords, a half-full goblet of watered wine trembling slightly in your grip as the wind howls outside the stone walls. A draft seeps in through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of old rushes and distant smoke, but you hardly notice anymore. No one looks your way. Not Lady Mormont, stern and tight-lipped in her seat. Not Lord Bolton, with his pale eyes and careful silences. Not even Robb. Especially not Robb.
He is at the head of the table, his crown of bronze and iron casting specters in the candlelight as he leans in to speak with Lord Umber. His voice is low, measured. He speaks of troop movements, of supply lines, of men lost in the last skirmish with the Lannisters. Not once does he look at you. Not once does he speak your name. You could be a ghost in this hall—Rickard Karstark’s daughter, the wife of a king, forgotten like snowfall in spring.
You wrap your fingers tighter around the stem of your goblet and try not to shiver. The fire is far away, and the heat does not reach you. Neither does comfort. There is no room for comfort in war. Not for widows, not for daughters of executed traitors, not even for queens.
“Lady Karstark,” a voice says, low and uncertain, breaking through your thoughts.
You turn your head slowly, the sound of your title landing oddly in your ears. No one uses it much anymore. You are Robb’s queen, in name if nothing else. But when you look up, it is not your husband who stands beside you, but Edmure Tully.
His auburn hair is tangled from the wind, his cheeks flushed from wine or cold—you can’t tell. He has a softness in his eyes that no one else seems to wear anymore. It unsettles you more than it should.
“My lady,” he tries again, glancing toward the empty seat beside you. “May I?”
You nod before you think better of it. He sits, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You wonder if he feels it too—that awful quiet that gnaws at the edges of your soul, the space where your father used to be, where your husband should be. The silence left in the wake of war and a broken oath.
“I thought you might want company,” Edmure says, his voice gentle. “Or, at least... not solitude.”
You glance around. None of the others notice, and even if they did, what would they care? You’re the daughter of a dead traitor now. To most of them, you’re nothing more than a liability Robb has yet to cast off. But Edmure—he sees you. He always has.
“Thank you,” you murmur, staring into your wine. “I suppose I’ve had enough solitude for a lifetime.”
His smile is brief, a flicker of warmth before it fades. “You shouldn’t be alone. Not like this.”
You look at him then. Really look at him. There’s an earnestness in his eyes that pulls something taut in your chest. “Robb is... busy.”
“You’re his wife.”
“Not his war council.”
The bitterness in your voice surprises even you. It hangs between you like smoke.
Edmure hesitates, then leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened. Your father… he made his choice. Robb made his.”
You flinch. “You think I don’t know that? Every lord in the North looks at me and sees his ghost. And Robb…” You shake your head, the words catching in your throat. “He hasn’t touched me since. Not once. Not even to look at me properly.”
Edmure’s brow furrows. “He should see you. Gods, you’re trying. He should see you.”
You hate the tears that rise at the gentleness in his voice. You blink them back, willing your face into something cold, something unreadable. You are a Karstark. You are not weak.
“I don’t blame him,” you whisper. “He lost so much. He’s grieving.”
“But so are you.”
That breaks something in you. Not in a loud, violent way—but in that quiet way ice cracks beneath the surface of a lake. Slowly. Irreversibly.
Your fingers brush against Edmure’s as you reach for the bread, and neither of you pull away fast enough. You stare down at your hand, his warmth still clinging to your skin, your breath caught behind your ribs. It is a dangerous thing, to feel seen. To feel something, anything, again.
“I shouldn’t be speaking to you like this,” you murmur. “You’re his uncle.”
“I’m your friend,” he says, and his voice is steady now. “If nothing else.”
You want to believe him. You want to believe there is still something left of you that is worth being called that.
Across the hall, Robb stands and calls for his lords. His voice is commanding, proud, the voice of a king—but not the voice you remember from Winterfell, when he would laugh with you beneath the Godswood trees, your hands brushing in the snow.
He does not glance your way as he leaves.
But Edmure does. His eyes linger, just long enough for the ache in your chest to sharpen into something dangerous.
You watch the fire burn low, the shadows stretch long, and wonder how long you can stay loyal to a man who no longer sees you… and how long you can deny the one who does.
The nights grow longer. Not in hours, but in weight. They press down on your chest like the stone lid of a tomb, quiet and suffocating. You lie awake in your chambers with your eyes on the beams above, fingers tangled in the wool of the furs that no longer hold the warmth of another. The hearth has gone cold again, the servants too frightened or forgetful to stoke the flames, and you do not summon them. You tell yourself you prefer the cold. You tell yourself it makes you feel closer to home. But Karhold was never this empty.
Sometimes you hear his footsteps—Robb’s—outside your door, the soft tread of boots on stone. Sometimes you think he’ll knock. That he’ll come in and speak your name again as if it means something. But he never does. Lately, you’ve stopped hoping.
And then there's her. Jeyne Westerling. Pretty enough, in the way girls are when they know how to tilt their head just so, when they cry at just the right moment to earn sympathy. You saw them once, too close in the corridor of a ruined keep, his hand brushing her back as he leaned in. You weren’t meant to see. You weren't meant to be there. She looked at you with wide brown eyes, as if you were the one out of place. Robb didn’t even react.
You said nothing. Of course you said nothing. What could you say? The man who had once kissed your knuckles in the snow, who had claimed he would always honor your name, now couldn’t even look you in the eye. You told yourself it was grief, still. That it was the war, the death, the crown. You told yourself you were being cruel to think otherwise. But the quiet between you has grown teeth.
When you see Edmure again, it’s beneath the godswood, far from the noise of tents and swords and voices echoing with orders. He is feeding a raven from his palm, bits of dried meat and crumbled bread. The bird picks delicately, cocking its head at him as if in judgment. You stand a moment and watch, arms folded against the wind, before he notices.
“You have a soft heart for such a grim thing,” you say, your voice light, but raw beneath it.
Edmure turns, startled, then offers a smile. “I’ve always liked them. Messengers. Carriers of truth, no matter how bloody.” He wipes his hand on his cloak and straightens, looking at you the way no one else does anymore—not as a widow of the living, not as the daughter of the condemned, but you.
You step toward him, unsure why you’ve come. You shouldn't be here. And yet, you are. “And what truth would this one carry, I wonder?”
“That you’re not alone.” He says it softly, and the wind dares not blow for a moment after.
You look away. The trees do not whisper here like they do in the North, but the gods are always listening. You feel them. Or perhaps it's only guilt pressing in again. “You shouldn’t say such things. I am the queen.”
“And I’m a fool who’s said worse,” he replies, half-laughing, though his eyes are serious. “But I meant it. I’ve watched you carry silence like a blade. It must be heavy by now.”
You breathe out, and it’s almost a laugh. Almost. “Do you know what it’s like? To lie in bed and wonder if your husband is lying with someone else while his men march and die for his name?”
His expression falters, the levity draining from it. He does not answer. And you do not need him to.
“I saw them,” you admit, voice low. “Robb and Jeyne. He thought I wouldn’t. He’s a king, after all. And I… I’m just the reminder of a man he beheaded.”
“He’s a fool, then,” Edmure says, voice hard in a way you’ve never heard. “If he cannot see the woman he married. The woman he’s betrayed.”
You wince. “And I’m just as bad. I look at you and I—” The words choke. You don’t know how to finish them.
Edmure steps closer, hesitant, but not afraid. “You don’t have to say it.”
“But I feel it,” you whisper. “Gods help me, I feel it. And every time I see you, I wonder how far I’ve already fallen.”
His hand hovers at your elbow but does not touch. “Then let us fall together, if we must.”
You meet his eyes, and in them is not just desire—but understanding. That awful, aching need to be known in a world where grief drowns everything else. You don't touch. Not yet. The gods might be watching, but it’s not the gods you fear. It’s yourself.
“I can’t,” you say finally. “Not yet.”
Edmure nods, stepping back, giving you the air you didn’t know you were desperate for. “Then I’ll wait.”
The words linger long after he’s gone, and they haunt you worse than Robb’s silence.
Because for the first time in moons, someone is willing to stay.
Based on this request: Hi! Could you write a Edmure Tully x fem!reader where the reader is in a relationship with Edmure, and after she tells him she can’t swim, he decides to teach her? Probably modern AU, but if you could pull it off in the GOT setting, it would be super. I’ll be happy to read any version you write. :)
Here you are!! My apologies for the wait! *I do not own ANY familiar characters!*
Warnings: Modern AU, not knowing how to swim, fluff. Also a little short since I’m not as well-versed in writing Edmure
Pairings/Characters: Edmure Tully x fem!reader
Edmure paused at the door, checking his phone for fourth the time. You didn't normally take so long to get ready and you'd been looking forward to this holiday for weeks now. "Y/N? Darling?" Edmure called up the stairs only to be met with silence. He set his own bags down and headed toward your shared bedroom to find you still sitting on your bed.
"Darling? Are you alright?" You looked up at him and sighed. "I think I should stay home." Edmure cocked his head to the side in confusion. "We've been planning this trip for months. You were so excited, too. What happened?" You sighed and mumbled something. Edmure sat down on the bed next to you. "Love? What is it?"
"I can't swim," you admitted, clearly embarrassed at your lack of experience. He took your hand, causing you to finally look up at him. Your eyes were a little teary, but he knew you weren't sad. "Why didn't you tell me?" You shrugged a bit. "You grew up near rivers, Edmure. I-I figured you'd think I was silly for not knowing."
Edmure shook his head and kissed your hand. "You aren't silly. There are plenty of things I grew up around that I don't know how to do. Ask my family how my archery skills are." You giggled at that. "How about this; we go like we planned and, in the morning before the others wake up, you and I will sneak out and I'll teach you to swim away from prying eyes." You blinked at him. "You'd do that for me?" He smiled and told you that, of course, he would.
That was how you found yourself tightly gripping onto Edmure's hands in the early hours of the morning just a few days later. "You alright?" he asked. You nodded but refused to look up from your feet. "Y/N, love, I can't teach you if you won't look at me." Taking a deep breath, you glanced up. "There. Just breathe. I promise I will not let you go until you're ready."
You were honestly surprised with how patient Edmure was with you. That helped you to feel a little less anxious in the water. It didn't take long for you to get the hang of treading water. Edmure gave you a bright smile. "Well done. Now, try this." He demonstrated what you should do with your arms and legs. He kept his hands on your waist so you wouldn't panic.
Thanks to Edmure's teachings, you managed to learn quickly. Over the course of several mornings, you'd managed to learn at least the basics. You wouldn't be winning any races any time soon, but you could at least relax and not worrying about looking like an idiot, or worse. By the time the actual reunion started, you were a little more confident that you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in front of Edmure's family.
You found yourself enjoying Edmure's sister, Catelyn's company. She was a devoted wife and mother and was very protective of Edmure. You quickly grew to love conversations with her while Edmure played with his young nieces and nephews. Cat and her husband's children were all a delight to be around as well. You couldn't say the same about Lysa and her son. Lysa absolutely looked down on you and you could tell with every word she spoke. You made a mental note to avoid her as much as you could.
"Y/N!" Edmure called out to you. He waved to you from the water when you faced him. He was surrounded by the children that did know how to swim and they were all looking at you expectantly. With a deep breath, you slowly made your way over to them, keeping your eyes on Edmure as you felt your feet hit the water. You could do this. Step after step, you carefully made your way to Edmure.
"That's it," you saw him mouth to you. When you couldn't walk any longer, you steadied your nerves before letting yourself float. The kids were cheering at the fact that they had another adult to play with, but your focus was on Edmure until you found yourself swimming into his arms.
"I am so proud of you, my love," he whispered in your ears when you'd wrapped your arms around him. Your heart was pounding in your ears, but you had done it. "I had a good teacher," you whispered back. Edmure blushed and opened his mouth to reply only to get a mouthful of river water as his nephew splash you both. You floated there in surprise for a moment before you laughed and let go. "Go get him," you declared, "I'm good here." Edmure placed a swift kiss to your cheek then swam away, earning a delighted scream from the Stark boy and his siblings.
When you were but an infant, an evil mage placed a curse on you. You were cursed to die at the age of sixteen by pricking your finger on a spinning wheel. It sent your father and mother into a panic. While destroying every spinning wheel in the kingdom, the king turned to three other magical creatures in hopes they could remove the curse. They couldn't. But they were able to change it. Unfortunately, that still meant you were in danger. So even though it killed them to do it, your parents sent you away into hiding. You were not to return until after your sixteenth birthday.
*sixteen years later*
Edmure rode away from the castle, desperate to get away. After traveling for days to get there, Edmure had been immediately stifled by the planning of his wedding. To a princess he'd met once! When she was a baby and he wasn't much older! Edmure hadn't understood when he was young why the princess had suddenly disappeared and now that he was older, it didn't matter. He didn't want to marry you. Sometimes he hated being the only prince in the family.
Edmure urged his horse to stop when he reached the woods. He didn't know what he would do out here, but he needed the breathing space. He dismounted and lead his horse over to the nearby stream. After splashing water on his face, Edmure heard a sound. It was soft at first but gradually grew louder. Singing. Someone was singing.
Although he wasn't curious by nature, Edmure found it odd for someone to randomly be singing in the woods. After giving his horse a pat on the neck, Edmure followed the sound of the voice. It didn't take him long to locate the source. A woman. She was walking so gracefully, it was almost like a dance. A soft song escaped from her lips and called to him like a siren.
Edmure shook his head at himself. He'd always been something of a romantic as a younger man. It seemed that hadn't stopped as he grew older. He watched for a moment longer before deciding he was being creepy and decided to leave the young woman to her devices. Unfortunately, as Edmure moved to return to his horse, he stepped on a fallen twig and snapped it, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet woods.
"Who's there?!" Edmure cursed under his breath before revealing himself. "My apologies for startling you, Miss. I heard you singing." The woman let her shoulders lower. "I didn't realize I was singing so loudly. I should go and leave you to your plans." She turned to leave, but Edmure called out for her to stop. He wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone outside the palace life.
YOUR POV
You faced the strange man and bit your lip. You knew you should return to your cottage with your aunts, but you NEVER got to talk to anyone outside of the three of them. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you nodded and set your basket down. You followed after and patted the grassy space next to you.
Your stranger sat with only minor hesitation. From there, the two of you spoke at length. You learned your stranger was a prince. It seemed you learned so much about him in such a small amount of time. As the sun began to set, you found yourself not wanting to part from his company. Still you knew you needed to return home before it got too dark. The woods was a treacherous place in the dark.
With a sigh, you got up and brushed off your skirts. Your prince rose as well with a frown on his face. "I'm afraid I must go." You moved to leave, but he gently took your hand. "Will I see you again?" You smiled and nodded lightly. "Tomorrow is my birthday. Perhaps you could come then? I live in the little cottage in the glen." He agreed happily. You bid him farewell and quickly returned home.
The smile never left your face as you enjoyed the evening with your aunts. It even stayed as you began making your way to your bed. And when the questioned you, you didn't want to say anything. You knew they'd be upset and you'd always been a terrible liar. They kept on until you finally admitted that you met someone. "He's coming here tomorrow to meet you all." Your aunts exchanged worried glances. "I-I think you'd better sit down. There's something you need to know."
EDMURE'S POV: The next day
There was a spring in Edmure's step as he headed out. He couldn't wait to see his mysterious woman again. As he was about to ride off, Edmure's uncle stepped out. "And just where do you think you're going? The princess is returning home this evening!" Edmure grimaced. He had honestly forgotten about the princess.
"Sorry, Uncle. I shall return later, but I have an engagement elsewhere." His uncle's eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your disappearing act yesterday?" Edmure tried to keep his expression neutral. "Because you are getting married," his uncle continued, "You have no time for mucking about now." Edmure clenched his fist by his side.
"Uncle, for once in my life I have something to look forward to. I met a lovely young lady. One I could see myself being wed to and happy with. I don't know the princess and I may refuse to wed her once we finally do meet. I want this one thing." Edmure's uncle scoffed. "Then take the girl on as a mistress, but you will marry the princess." Edmure watched his uncle walk away without giving him the chance to retort.
Anger coursed through Edmure's veins at his uncle audacity. His new friend was too good to be a mistress. He wouldn't do her the dishonor of even suggesting such a thing. He hoped the walk to the cottage would help him calm down enough to enjoy her birthday with her. With that hope in mind, Edmure headed out to the woods once again.
When he reached the cottage, something seemed off. The inside was dark, not even a candle in the window or smoke billowing from the chimney. Edmure drew his sword as he entered the cottage. Not that it did any good. A trap had been set. He couldn't believe it. Had she done this?
"Well, well. This is a surprise. I set my trap for a peasant and instead, I catch a prince. We have much to discuss, Prince Edmure." Edmure recognized the mage from the stories he'd heard. This was the mage that had cursed the princess. Edmure didn't have a chance to ask before he was pulled from the cottage toward the dark, towering castle that loomed in the distance. The mage didn't speak again until Edmure was chained to the walls of a cell in the dungeon of the crumbling palace.
The mage stood across from him with a smug grin. "Why am I here? What does the girl from the cottage have to do with this?" Edmure growled out. The mage looked surprised for a moment before laughing. "You haven't figured it out? She is the princess! And my curse will come to fruition tonight!" Edmure shook his head.
"No it won't! Even if she is the princess, true love's kiss will wake her!" Another dark chuckle escaped the mage's lips. "Except her true love is right here. And here is where you will remain until you are too old to make the journey back to the castle. Oh, you'll try, of course, but you will be weak. Still, you oh valiant prince will not give up. I have seen it. After all, in the case of true love, 100 years is but a day. So, you will leave here and you will make the journey. And you. Will. Fail. The princess will sleep for an eternity!" The mage's cackle echoed through the dungeons as they left Edmure alone.
Edmure's thoughts bounced all over the place. If what the mage said was true, there was no hope. But he couldn't believe that. There had to be a way to save you. Edmure sat, ignoring the clanking of the chains, as he thought of ways he could get out. He had no idea what time it was or how long until sunset. Even if he did manage to escape, who's to say it wouldn't be too late? As every hour passed, Edmure's hope began to dwindle.
Just as Edmure's positivity was running out, a small flash of light caught his attention. As he looked up, two more flashes had him blinking rapidly. When he could see clearly again, Edmure nearly jumped out of his skin. Three obviously magic-wielders stood before him.
"Prince Edmure. We've come to rescue you. The princess is already sleeping. You're the only one who can help her." Edmure stared for a moment. "But, what if I'm not her true love? What if I am?! I don't want to force this on her…on Princess Y/N…I can't believe that the girl is actually the princess."
"We really don't have time for this, my prince. We have to move before the mage discovers we're here. If we can get out without being noticed, you would not have to take on the mage without reinforcements." Edmure stood as one of his saviors used magic to rid him of the chains keeping him in the cell. They all used their magic to summon a sword and shield. Edmure felt powerful(though he was grateful they hadn't summoned a bow. He wasn't really good with those) and he felt like he really could save his mystery girl. That he could save you.
Unfortunately, Edmure's exit wasn't exactly quiet and he ended up having to handle all the mage's little minions and then the mage themselves. It took everything in him and he was certain he nearly died several times. But eventually, Edmure was victorious. He was coated in sweat and dirt, but that was the last thing on his mind. He had to get to you.
The magic-wielders, who Edmure learned were the people that raised you, told Edmure where they'd placed you. Edmure stopped short when he saw you laid out on the bed. You looked so different than you had in the woods. Still, beautiful, but different. Edmure knew what he had to do next, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He didn't exactly have your consent in this.
With a sigh, Edmure at least decided to clean his face first. He moved to the basin and washed quickly. Once he was cleaned up, he came back over to you. "I am so sorry for this. I hope you will be able to forgive me," he whispered. Leaning forward, Edmure pressed his lips to yours in a soft and quick kiss. Your eyes fluttered open and you gave him a smile.
"I forgive you," you said softly, "But if you ever kiss me without permission again, I will hurt you." Edmure let out a relieved chuckle. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Princess." You sat up and threw your arms around him. "Thank you for saving me."
