This one had angst potential (“It's over.”), but I made it fluffy! 486 words of Nedaly plus Sansa, Robb, and Jon. 💕 divider by @/saradika
“Get! Out!”
Every single muscle in my body strained as Ned rubbed my back. His shirt was damp from my tears and sweat, but he made no move to shift me. He simply quietly encouraged me and occasionally pressed a kiss to my temple or forehead.
“Stupid! Big! Stark! Babe!” I panted.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Ned murmured.
“Fuck you, Ned Stark,” I sobbed into his neck. “Get her OUT!”
“I am sorry, my heart, I cannot release you from this struggle,” Ned gently replied. “If I could lend you my strength, I would.”
“One more set of short pushes, my lady,” Luwin spoke up from behind me. “Her head is nearly free, and then she should slide right out.”
I groaned, gripping Ned’s shirt nearly to tearing, every fiber of my being overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion, then suddenly the pressure broke and I could breathe again. I slumped against my husband as a soft crying came from near Luwin, who I knew was quickly cutting the cord tying my pup to me.
“It’s over.” Ned beamed at me, gently turning me around in his arms. “You did it, my heart.” He kissed my cheek as Lorra laid our quickly cleaned and whimpering babe in my arms. “A perfect little girl; well done.”
“Oh, little pup.” My chest swelled with joy. “Oh look at you, you are a hefty little thing aren’t you? My little Sansa.” She wiggled a bit, then let out a hearty cry, making me sob happily.
“She’s here!” I heard Robb exclaim from the solar. “Jon, did ya hear her?! Our sister’s here!” Before anyone could move to prevent them, Robb burst through the door and came sprinting to the side of the bed, Jon just behind him.
“Mama!” Robb glowed with excitement. “OH! She’s, she’s beautiful!!” He scrambled onto the bed, burrowing under Ned’s arm and tucking himself against me, gazing at his new sister with amazement. “Mama, oh, I, I love her! She, she smells, smells like you!”
“She smells like me?” I asked, smiling softly at him.
“Yeah,” Jon said, climbing up to join us. “She smells like, um, um, the red fruits? The little ones?” He hugged Ned’s bent leg, resting his cheek on Ned’s knee.
“Strawberries?” I provided, shifting so Sansa could nurse.
“Mmhm! Berries!” Robb replied as Jon nodded.
“Do you think I smell like strawberries?” I asked Ned, tilting my head to look at him.
“I think you smell like the most delectable meal in the world,” he answered. “Which happens to contain strawberries, aye.”
“Oh you Starks and your odd wolfishness.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t suppose you’ll ever rightly make sense to me.” I smiled at Ned, then at each of our children, ending with Sansa, happily consuming her first meal. “But then again, I don’t suppose it matters if you make sense. I love you all just the same.”
SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. My baby boys!! Being cute!! 913 words; warnings for dry humping and handjob; Robb Stark x male!Arryn!OC. (Not cheating; as Robb states, Margaery is aware of the feelings between them and has already okayed a sexual relationship!) Divider by @saradika-graphics.
I waited outside the door, flexing and clenching my fist. Arya leaned against the wall across from me, throwing her dagger in the air and catching it, over and over. After what felt like a lifetime, Lord Stark emerged from the chambers behind me. He looked between us for a moment, then sighed.
“He is going to be fine,” he told us. “Laid up for a bit, but fine.”
A pressure lifted from my chest instantly. I took several deep breaths, looking at the ground, as Arya pushed by her father to see the truth of her brother’s condition for herself. When I looked up again, Lord Stark was watching me, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
“You can be honest, Jasper,” he said gently. “My wife is very observant, and there is little she does not share with me. I know how you feel about him.”
“Robb is my dear friend,” I replied, keeping my face as neutral as possible. “As the late King Robert was yours.”
“My wife shall usher our daughter out in a moment,” Lord Stark said, ignoring my statement. “You shall have him to yourself. Perhaps use the opportunity to express yourself a bit more freely.”
“Lord Stark, I do not—”
I was interrupted by the arrival of Lady Stark, Arya on her arm and Ser Jaime just behind her. She smiled at me, reaching up with her free hand to cup my cheek.
“He wishes to see you, darling,” she told me, a tenderness in her eyes that felt more intimate than if she’d stripped me naked. I swallowed and nodded, waiting until she’d stepped back to walk through the door. I heard it close behind me as I moved into the bedchamber, where Robb was sitting up against the pillows. His expression brightened at the sight of me, and my chest constricted.
“Jas!”
“Robb.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Your father said that you’re going to be fine?”
“Oh, aye.” Robb waved a hand about. “My mother was rather cross with me, but that’s how mothers are. I’m young and healthy, I shall recover rather quickly.”
“You have no sense of your own mortality,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“Did you speak to my mother?” Robb laughed. “That is precisely what she said!” I huffed and looked at the floor, unable to stop a lump of emotion from rising in my throat.
“Jas?” Robb leaned forward and placed his hand on my forearm. I looked at the hand, working my jaw, then back up to his face. Robb met my gaze with soft confusion, brow furrowed and head cocked.
“Your father said I ought to express myself more freely,” I told him, anxious but resolved to tell him the truth. “My heart is rather burdened, Robb, and has been for some time. The fact that I have hidden this burden from you has been both a necessity and a great shame.”
“Jasper,” Robb cut me off, “touch me.”
“What?” I blinked rapidly at him.
“Touch me,” he repeated. “I need your hands on me, Jasper.”
“You have a wife,” I replied, even as I turned more fully towards him and reached out to caress his cheek.
“She doesn’t care.” Robb leaned into my hand. “She knows how you feel, Jas, and she is unbothered.”
“You are injured, rather seriously,” I protested.
“There is plenty of me that is not injured,” Robb responded, his hand dropping from my arm to cup my cock. “You’ll be gentle with me, Jas. You’re always gentle.”
Robb leaned forward before I could say anything else, pressing his lips to mine. I opened my mouth to him, leaning down so that he was laid back against the pillows once more. I slid my leg between his, grinding my hips down. Robb grunted into my mouth, fingers tangling in my hair. I was filled with desperation, ten years of longing pushing to the surface. Carefully holding my weight up to avoid straining his injuries, I kissed along Robb’s jaw.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured in his ear. “I would do anything for you.”
Robb dug his teeth into my neck in response, hips bucking up into mine. I shifted my weight onto one arm and reached down, pulling up his shirt to wrap my fingers around his cock. My own needed no such attention; I could feel myself about to spill from humping his thigh alone.
“C’mon, love,” I breathed, planting a kiss just below Robb’s ear, “release for me. Spill in my hand.”
Robb grunted again, face buried in my neck, nails digging into my scalp. I rocked my hips in rhythm with the movement of my wrist, teetering on the edge.
“Let go,” I whispered. “Robb, I’m gonna spill in my fucking breeches, please, just release for me.”
“Shit, Jasper.”
Robb thrust up into my hand with a groan, spilling onto his stomach. The sight was enough to pull my own release from me, flooding my breeches with a sticky warmth. I rolled off of Robb, laying down next to him, catching my breath.
“So,” Robb said after a minute, “shall I let Margaery know that you’ll be joining us in our bed upon our return to Winterfell?”
“If she’ll have me, I am all yours,” I replied, turning my head to smile at him.
“Good.” Robb pushed himself up to lean over and kiss me. “She’ll be relieved to hear that we figured this out without her.”
How about a little catnis blurb in which Cat is crying/sad for some reason and Stannis has ZERO idea how to comfort her?🤗
This was so fun to write!! It mayyyy have run away with me a bit! (It's 1.6k words.) I don't think there's any warnings? Breastfeeding, I guess? Stannis thinks Catelyn has the only perfect pair of tits in the world? But here is angsty and fluffy Catnis + some Renly and Steffon!
“Stas?”
“Come in, Ren.” He crossed the room and waited quietly as I finished the paragraph I was writing before giving him my full attention. “What is it?”
“Catelyn is upset.”
“What is she upset about?”
Renly shrugged. “She didn’t say, but she was crying, and when she saw me she tried to hide it and told me to run along and find some mischief with Ed, then went into her chambers and closed the door.” He frowned. “She never skips our walk in the gardens. She didn’t even have Steff with her!”
I looked over to where Steffon was sitting, quietly playing with a pair of wooden deer, then glanced at the clock on the shelf behind him. It was well past when she usually came to collect him. With a sigh, I stood and crossed the room to Steffon, kneeling beside him.
“’Tis time for your walk around the gardens, fawn,” I told him, picking him up.
“Mama?” Steffon asked, looking around for her, then frowning at me when he found her absent. “We can’t go without Mama.”
“Mama isn’t feeling well right now, Steff. You shall have to take your walk with your uncles and Mariya.”
“But I don’t wannnaaaaa!” Steffon went dramatically limp in my arms. “Uncle Edmure is borrrrring! He wants to talk to girls all the time!” Beside me, Renly grimaced, his own distaste for girls clear.
“He is not boring, he is simply two and ten,” I told Steffon as we left the study. “When you are two and ten, you shall also be of no interest to lads of only three years, I would wager.”
“Stas?” I glanced down at Renly. “Will there be a lad of three here when Steff is two and ten?” I furrowed my brow, and he elaborated, “Will you and Cat have another son, nine years after Steff?”
“I cannot tell you if they shall be sons, but we shall have more children. Catelyn desires at least five. Why do you ask?”
“I like being a big brother,” Renly answered, giving me a genuine smile. “I’m glad I live with you and Cat, and not Robert and Cersei. I would not like having Cersei as my mother.”
I decided that that was not a battle I wished to fight, not when he looked so happy, and certainly not when I would likely need all my emotional strength to handle whatever was wrong with Catelyn. It was not small, I knew, for, as Renly said, she never missed her walk with him and Steffon. Every single afternoon since we had landed on this dreary island, she had taken them for a turn about the flowers and trees. The only time she had not gone was when she had been in labor with Cyrenna a moon ago.
Steffon left in the care of Ser Kermit and Catelyn’s favorite handmaid, Mariya, with Renly walking along quietly beside them and Edmure doing his best to flirt with Mariya (much to her amusement), I hurried back across the castle to Catelyn’s chambers. Ser Tristifer stood outside the door; he paused for a moment, seeming to calculate his lady’s orders against my own will, then opened the door for me with a dip of his head. I nodded shortly at him as I passed into the antechamber.
“Catelyn?”
“Just a moment, Stannis,” she called back after a beat. She appeared after another minute, Cyrenna in her arms. My chest tightened at the sight of my sweet wife holding my child—what could be more pleasant for a man to gaze upon? Then I noticed the redness around her eyes and the exhaustion in her posture, and my pride quickly gave way to concern.
“Cat, are you alright? Renly told me you were crying.”
“’Tis not anything you ought to worry over, husband,” she said quickly, shaking her head and moving to sit by the fire. “I am tired, as to be expected, with such a freshly whelped babe.” She smiled at me, but I could see the glisten of tears in her eyes.
“Catelyn.” I crossed the room and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her knee. “You are upset. Why?” She shook her head again, but I saw how she shifted Cyrenna closer. “Is something wrong with Cyrenna, my darling? Does she require Cressen’s attention?”
“No. Well, that is, I do not think this requires Cressen, but…she won’t latch on.” Something inside Catelyn broke, and suddenly she was sobbing. “Steff was always so easy to feed, and she, she…it is as if she hates me! I am doing exactly as I did with Steffon, but she is fussy about the entire process! And, and she stops part way through, and then I must struggle to get her back on, and she glares at me the entire time! Condemning me!”
“Oh.” This was not at all what I had expected. “Would you like me to hire a wet nurse for her?”
“So that I may watch her love some other woman? Oh yes, that would help immensely!” Catelyn scoffed, frowning at me. “I just do not understand! Steffon was never difficult!”
“Do you suppose it is your diet? Perhaps what you are eating is affecting the taste, making it less desirable.”
“You think the milk I produced on RATS was better?!” Catelyn was now glowering, her tears flowing steadily.
“I do not know, my darling,” I reached up to brush her tears away with my thumb, “I have not sampled your milk.”
“I am aware of that, Stannis!” She huffed, although she leaned into my palm as she did. “Do you know who could answer such a question for his wife? Ned.”
“That was not necessary information to impart,” I replied, the image of Catelyn’s cousin and her husband burning in my mind.
“I suppose you ought to write to Davos,” Catelyn continued, “and tell him to bring us some of the apparently magic onions that make my milk palatable! Since it seems my bitter heart truly has infected my breasts!”
“None of that is what I meant,” I replied as gently as I could.
“Your meaning matters not! Our daughter hates me and you do not have anything helpful to say!” Catelyn inhaled shakily, pulling away from my touch, then opened her mouth again, but before she could speak further, Cyrenna let out a soft cry. Immediately, Catelyn’s focus was entirely on her, her thumb softly rubbing her cheek, her body curling around her.
“Shh, shh, forgive me, my sweet.” Catelyn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I am so sorry, little fawn, to have failed you so intimately and completely.” She looked back at me, heartbroken. “Hire the wet nurse, Stas. I shall simply have to endure it.”
“Is she hungry now?” I asked, ignoring her statement and placing a hand softly over the one she had cradling our daughter’s head.
“Yes, I believe so, but I have been attempting to feed her for the past hour! I do not know what else to do, besides having you milk me like a, a bloody cow into a goblet and pouring it down her throat!” If she had been standing, I was certain one of her delicate feet would have been stomped in anger. As it was, she pressed her lips together tightly and looked away from me again.
“What if I hold her while you nurse?” I suggested, standing and holding out my arms for Cyrenna, who was now making a series of rather sad sounds at Catelyn, threatening to cry outright.
“How would that help any?” Catelyn blinked up at me, perplexed.
I shrugged. “I do not know, but you have not tried it yet, and it would be better than having another woman nurse her, would it not?”
“I suppose,” Catelyn said cautiously, allowing me to take Cyrenna. She regarded me with confusion, although she quieted down once more. Catelyn sighed and stood, gesturing for me to follow her into her bedchamber.
Catelyn sat near the head of the bed, leaving a space behind her, then adjusted her gown, freeing herself partially of it, a sight I could not help but admire. I love you, Cyrenna, but you are a fool to not adore your mother’s breasts; the single perfect pair in the entire world. I handed Cyrenna back to her, then slipped in behind her, my legs bracketing her body. Catelyn leaned back, and I wrapped my arms around her, letting her set Cyrenna in them. Her own moved to rest against my thighs, her hands gently holding them, thumbs brushing across my breeches. Cyrenna wiggled a moment, let out a small sigh, then began to nurse.
“You ass,” Catelyn groused. “I cannot believe she wants you to hold her!”
“I do not think she was the one wanting it,” I replied, noticing how Catelyn had melted against me. “I do rather believe you have been needing me more than you have let on, my darling. And that, along with all your other stubbornness, has made you quite anxious. She can tell when you are unhappy and it makes her unhappy as well.” I kissed her temple. “I am very sorry I did not notice your need, dearest, loveliest wife of mine.”
“Oh shut it,” Catelyn grumbled. “I hope you know you shall now be required for all her feedings.”
“I do not mind. Now rest, my darling.”
Catelyn was asleep before Cyrenna finished. I shifted her so she was nestled against her mother’s chest, one hand covering her back, the other resting against Catelyn’s ribs, content to remain where I was as long as my wife required.
Nedaly (Ned Stark x Tully!wife!OC) plus Robb whump, taking place after they've escaped King's Landing following Robert's death; 3.1k words.
DEAD DOVE. Hurt/Comfort but the hurt is HEAVY. Warnings: kidnapping, physical abuse, implied gang r*pe (nothing explicitly described, but it is pretty clear what happens), parents being forced to witness the abuse of their child, by our standards abuse of a minor although he is considered an adult by Westerosi standards.
author's note: Alyssandra refers to Jon going to Riverrun for his grandfather's help, then later makes a comment about if only his mother could see him; R+L = J here, and Alyssandra knows this, but she has raised Jon as her own, so he considers her brother and father to be his uncle and grandfather
It had been four days since I had shoved Lynora into Sansa’s arms and put Rickon in the saddle behind her, telling Bran and Arya to follow her. I had ordered Theon and Axel to go with them. I hadn’t watched them ride away. I had seen Jory die. I hadn’t seen what had befell Jon, Gendry, Elmo, and Rodrik. I hoped they were riding back to Winterfell as well. I hoped they were not foolish enough to try to rescue us. (He shall try. He is too loyal not to. Even if the other three do not allow him to attempt a rescue mission as they are, Jon shall insist upon going to Riverrun, upon gaining the support of his grandfather. There is no doubt that that boy, if he lives, shall make every effort to retrieve us.)
We had been taken to Harrenhal, which had apparently been granted to the horrid man at the head of our captors, Janos Slynt, and placed in a makeshift cage within the Hall of A Hundred Hearths. I had been allowed to minimally tend to our wounds, likely so that we would not die before Cersei had the chance to parade us through the streets of the capitol. We slept on the cold floor, not as we had when the boys were small, with Ned’s arm reaching across to touch my hip and mine resting on top of it, but instead with me between them, their arms laying parallel over my side, as if to protect me. Each night, my back pressed to his front, our eldest’s face hidden against my chest, Ned’s hand rested upon my stomach, a silent acknowledgement of the news I had shared only a fortnight previously, news I desperately hoped to keep hidden from our captors.
On the fifth day, Slynt came to visit. He mocked and berated and threatened, but, my hands tightly gripping theirs, Ned and Robb held their tongues. When words proved insufficient in achieving a reaction, Slynt ordered Ned and Robb to be held by two men each, and then grabbed me by my hair and yanked me to my knees in front of him. I stared blankly up at him, slowly blinking.
“You shall find more pleasure in fucking a goat, Slynt,” I told him calmly. “For it shall at least bleat, while I shall give you no reaction, no matter how hard you try to shove that needle down my throat.”
He smacked me, hard, knocking me to the side, and a pair of deep growls reverberated from my husband and son. I huffed in amusement, pushing myself back up and shaking my head.
“You are dull, insecure, unoriginal, and frankly rather ugly,” I sneered. “Do not bother me with your low, cheap attempts at intimidation.”
I was roughly hauled back up and shoved back into the cage, and Slynt left without another word. For two days, we did not see him. Or, at least, I did not see him, as I later found out that Ned had indeed spoken with Slynt on the second night, and had been given a choice, a choice he then discussed with Robb, all while I was asleep and thus unable to voice any opinion. And so, for the first time in Robb’s sixteen years, a decision regarding his wellbeing was made without my consent.
“No! Robb, Robb!”
Day seven. Guards arrived and dragged Robb from the cage. I lunged after him but Ned grabbed my arm and yanked me back, wrapping his own arms around me. I squirmed furiously in his grasp, overwhelmed by panic for my child, even grown as he now was. Ned squeezed tighter, tucking his chin in at my shoulder, preventing me from knocking the back of my head into his teeth or nose, as I desperately wanted to do. The door to the cage was closed and locked again. More men filed into the hall, gathering to watch. Our view was left clear.
“Let go!” I demanded, kicking at Ned’s calf. “Ned, let go of me!”
“Shhhh, shhh, Aly,” he murmured.
“Robb!” I cried, watching as he was dragged to the center of the hall. “Ned, Ned, they’re going to hurt him! Our son!”
“I know,” he softly replied, and I felt a tear land on my neck. “I know, Aly.”
“No no no no no! Leave him alone! Ned, LET GO!” I tried frantically to free my arm, so that I might hit him, but Ned had one wrist in each hand, pinning them to my chest. “Let him be, please! Please!”
“Aly, Aly, breathe.”
“Shut up! Shut up!!” I stomped on his foot, his quick inhale doing little to satisfy me. “Why aren’t you upset?! What’s happening?!”
“Slynt made me choose between the two of you,” Ned said quietly.
“Why did you choose him?! Why would you do such a thing?! He’s our son!! My babyyyyy!!” I wailed.
“He shall only face ten,” Ned answered as the guards began to strip Robb. “You would have been given to them all.”
“What do you mean?” Ned was quiet, his lack of answer sending a pulse of dread through me. “Eddard, what shall he face from them? Why are they stripping him?!” I tilted my head so I could see Ned’s face and the tears streaking it wrenched at my chest. “Why, Ned?! WHY?!”
“You know why, my heart.” There was something in his voice I had never heard before, guilt and anger and something deeper all joining together to stab at my very soul.
“No, gods, please,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, Alyssandra,” Ned replied.
“Noooooo!” I went slack in his grasp, watching as my son was bent over a table, hands bound behind his back, the pain of what was about to happen to him too much for my body to bear. “No no no, my baby, my baby!”
“Howl all you like, bitch,” Slynt leered at me, “won’t change your whelp’s fate.” He looked me over, then leaned closer. “Mmm, I am going to enjoy watching you witness his complete degradation.”
I couldn’t move, couldn’t think above the horror. Ned lowered me to the ground, arms still around me. I closed my eyes, wishing I could close my ears to the clink of a belt being undone, the jeers of the gathered men, the gasp of pain Robb could not hold back. For a minute, I was left with only the distress of hearing, then Slynt apparently noticed I was not watching this theater of torment.
“Open your eyes, bitch,” he snapped. I shook my head and turned my face into Ned’s chest. There was a shuffling, then Robb yelped, and I couldn’t help but look at him again. He had been yanked up by his throat, a knife now pressing against his manhood.
“You shall watch,” Slynt hissed, “or my man shall remove his cock.”
Robb’s eyes were wide with terror, pleading with me for something, anything. Slowly, I nodded, keeping my gaze on my son as he was bent over once more, the hand remaining tightly around his throat. I let my eyes glaze over, forcing myself numb to the images in front of me, the men moving across my vision no more than blurry shapes. But the sounds, the sounds. The sounds I could do nothing about. Leather cracking, vile insults, grunting, choking, knees scraping on stone, ribs and hips knocking against wood, cheeks harshly slapped—all landed squarely upon my soul. Through it all, Ned held me.
At long last, by some signal I could not discern, it was over. Robb was hauled upright and shown off to the crowd of men, who laughed and jeered, and then dragged back across the hall to our cage. I pushed Ned away and leapt to my feet, longing to hold him. Slynt grinned viciously, then spun around.
“Shall we let the bitch have her whelp back?” he asked, grabbing Robb’s hair and shaking him. “Or shall we take him for another round?”
“Please, please, no,” I cried. “Please, let him be!” A horrible, broken sound left me. “Please, I beg of you!”
“Hm, alright, I suppose that’s enough entertainment for one evening.” Slynt waved his hand at his men. “Out, the lot of you!” He turned back and jerked his head, and a guard quickly unlocked the door. Slynt cut his bonds and threw Robb in, then the door was closed and locked once more, and Slynt walked away again. I fell to my knees beside Robb, reaching out to gently cup his face. He squinted up at me, blinking a few times.
“Mama?”
“Shhh, shhh.” My hands trembled as I gathered him in my arms, pulling his upper body onto my lap, cradling his head to my chest. “I’ve got you, sunshine, I’m here.”
Ned moved to kneel beside me but I glared furiously at him and he froze, guilt and horror wracking his body. My mouth twisted in a desperate attempt to hold in my pain before I looked away again, burying my face in Robb’s curls and sobbing. Ned waited a breath more, then knelt, easing Robb onto his side and covering him with his cloak.
“My sweet boy,” I mumbled into his hair. “Oh my precious, precious boy.”
“Alright, alright, you rest, darling. We’ll clean you up.”
Ned ripped off a strip of his shirt (it had been torn in the fighting), then slowly, excruciatingly gently, wiped off Robb’s legs and upper back. Robb gave no reaction, simply clutching my shirt and breathing shallowly. Ned glanced at me, waiting for me to tell him to proceed. I shifted slightly so I could see Robb’s face.
“Sunshine, your father has to touch you where they…where they were, to clean you.” Robb quietly whined in protest. “I promise, he shall be quick. But you must be cleaned, my love.”
I nodded at Ned, and, with a tortured look, he bent Robb’s upper leg up, his other hand moving down his back. Robb whimpered, trying to move away, but I wrapped my arms tighter around him, keeping him still against me.
“Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” I murmured. Robb sobbed wordlessly and hid his face between my breasts, just as he had as a small child.
“Hurts, Mama,” he sniffled, voice muffled by his position. Ned shifted, his hand moving out of my sight, his face twisted in anger and loss as he carefully attempted to clean away what had happened to our child without further violating him. Robb’s breath caught, his fingers twisting in my shirt, his entire body shaking with fear before coiling around me as Ned sat back again, hands now pulling his cloak tight around Robb.
“Mama, it hurts,” he repeated.
“I know, I know.” I stroked his hair, rocking him slowly. “I know it hurts, darling. Your father and I shall make it all better, alright?”
“Throat.” Robb released my shirt with one hand to lightly tap near the already darkening bruises. “Mama.”
“Your throat hurts, too?” He nodded, his hand falling to his chest. “Aright, you don’t have to speak, it’s alright. You only have to lie here, and I shall keep holding you, alright?” Another nod, his eyes closing. “My baby, my baby, my baby.”
I pressed a kiss to his forehead, then laid my cheek once more against his hair, so like my own, such an obvious reminder of who he was, where he had come from. Who he had come from. Why he had suffered this.
Your fault, your fault. Catelyn’s son would not have suffered so. Catelyn would have talked her way out of it at the start. Catelyn would never have been taken in the first place. Catelyn would have killed Steffon and herself before she let them break them.
“Alyssandra.” I flicked my eyes up to Ned, standing over us, his grief plain in the slouch of his shoulders. He waited, silently pleading to be allowed back into my heart.
“I know, Eddard. I know.” I sighed. “Sit. Please.”
He sat beside me, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand slowly stroking Robb’s hair. I closed my eyes, praying for help in protecting my child from further harm, someone, anyone—no, not anyone, no, I prayed for the one person I knew would always do right by the pups who had inhabited my womb. Jon, I need you, my darling. I need you to be clever and brave. I need you to save your brother. Please, Jon, please. Just get him out. After a long silence, I finally lifted my head to look at Ned.
“Eddard?”
“Hm?” He met my eyes, guilty and exhausted and overwhelmingly sad.
“Am I a bad person, a bad mother, for being grateful ’twas not one of the girls with us?”
Ned was silent for a moment, and I felt the bile rising in my throat. This is when he finally breaks. This is where our marriage dies. Beside the ruin of our son’s dignity.
“If you are, my heart, then we are bad together, for I am also grateful for that.”
Nothing more was said between us. Nothing more was needed. We leaned against each other and listened to our child’s breathing. The castle grew hushed around us, although in this haunted place it was never truly quiet. There were always shadows, always feelings of something lingering. I paid no mind to the specters at the edge of my vision. They were but remnants of Harrenhal’s previous inhabitants.
“Mother! Father! Robb!”
Or perhaps, this time, they were not. I lifted my head, Ned shifting beside me. Out of the darkness came a figure, a sword in each hand. As he approached, he pushed back his hood, and Jon’s face, full of concern, greeted us. I inhaled shakily, my relief crashing into me so suddenly that tears gushed from my eyes before I could realize they had even welled up.
“Jon, Jon, darling, oh.” I smiled up at him. “Please tell me you brought my father or brother with you.”
“Better, Mother; I brought both.” He moved to the side to reveal Lucas, who stepped forward.
“Father is guarding our escape,” he told me. “We managed to get your weapons all back.” He gestured towards Jon, who I now noticed had Ice strapped to his back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to presume…” Jon looked guiltily at Ned.
“No, no.” Ned shook his head. “You wear it well.” He smiled at him briefly, then donned his general’s face. “Alright, get that door down and then help me get your brother up, hm?”
Jon nodded, and began to hack at the ropes holding our cage together. He made quick work of them; within a few minutes, he was kneeling beside me, pressing his face into my neck as I clutched the back of his head, my cheek against his hair. Lucas silently pulled Ned to his feet and handed him his weapons, both allowing me a moment with Jon.
“Oh my good boy,” I whispered. “My loyal, clever, brave boy. I knew you would come, knew you would return for your brother.”
“And Father. And you,” Jon replied, leaning back. “I’d never leave any of you behind.”
“Oh if only your mother could see you. She’d be so proud,” I told him, cupping his cheek.
“My mother’s looking right at me, and I know she’s proud,” he said firmly.
“Aly.” I looked up to see Ned holding Robb’s clothes. I nodded, and gently rolled him away from me, Jon’s brow drawing down as he took in Robb’s face.
“Robb, my love.” I wiggled his shoulder as gently as I could. “Jon’s come, we’re getting out, sunshine.”
“Hmm.” Robb slowly opened his eyes, Jon’s presence taking a moment to register. “Jon?”
“I’m here, Robb.” He shifted and placed a hand on Robb’s shoulder. “I rode to Riverrun and got Grandfather and Uncle Lucas, and now we shall all go home together.”
“Jon.” Robb reached up to clasp Jon’s arm. “Jon, you shall have to be lord after Father. I, I cannot.”
“What do you mean, you cannot be lord?” Jon cocked his head. “You are alive, are you not?”
“Whores ought not to be lords, and they certainly cannot be lords paramount. Ten had me, but they all saw, they all know,” Robb quietly, bitterly replied. Jon frowned, thinking for a moment, then he bent and pressed his forehead to Robb’s.
“I shall kill them all,” he whispered. “Before we go, I shall slit the throats of every man in this castle. No one shall know but us.”
He and Robb simultaneously took a deep breath, then Jon stood, offering Robb his hands. As I secured my weapons, handed over by Lucas, Jon and Ned helped Robb back into his clothes. Ned moved to get under Robb’s arm, but Jon shook his head.
“I can take him, Father. I have had two good meals since we parted, which is two more than I would imagine you’ve had.”
Ned sighed, then nodded, and we followed Lucas back out to where my father was waiting. After embracing me and reassuring me that Rodrik and Elmo had been sent with twenty men from Riverrun to find my other children, he led us out to our horses. We mounted, save for Jon and Lucas, who glanced at each other and then at me.
“Do you wish for vengeance, Mother?” Jon softly asked. Funny, that he does not ask Ned as well. But I suppose Jon has always seen us clearly.
“Aye, but I shall allow the two of you to deliver it for me.” I placed my hand over my stomach. “I do not think I ought to exert myself any further, given my condition.” They both nodded, then turned and slipped back into the shadows, and we rode away. They caught up with us not long after, our going being slow for Robb’s sake. Neither said a word, but both nodded to me and then to Robb. When dawn came, it shone upon a new set of ghosts, taking residence in those cursed halls. Slynt’s body lay in a sewage trench, save for his manhood, which Jon had fed to Ghost just before removing his head. Robb had stared at the head for a long moment, after Jon handed it over, then he tossed it to Grey Wind, who had come out of the woods just beyond Harrenhal, and the wolf happily crushed it.
It did not fix what had occurred, but nothing ever truly would. It would only get easier to bear.
Jealous Ned when others are staring at Aly during a feast please🙏🏻
Oh my lord, okay this took on a life of its own, forgive me.
First, this is like what I'm imagining her wearing, but with not as high cut slits in the skirt:
Second, I do have an nsfw gif that is very much how I'm picturing them. I like having visuals to work from.
Okay, here's the actual writing!
warnings: fingering, p in v, possessiveness
We had been in the capital for only four days, and already Ned’s mood had soured. The children were all quite happy, running about with their cousins and Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. (Joffrey had been generally absent from their fun, although he had engaged Sansa in a number of conversations, all of which had caused Robb and Jon to pause their own to glare at him.)
“Stannis does not want this bloody tournament at all; he certainly does not want a bloody massive feast,” Ned grumbled as I braided his hair for the grand feast that would officially begin the fortnight of celebration. “Remind me why we must be in attendance?”
“Because he is the husband of my cousin and dearest friend,” I replied. “And brother to the king, whom you were fostered with. And because you are Lord Paramount of The Wolfswood; to not attend would give the idea that you do not support the king’s choice, and regardless of the truth for your absence, such an idea would surely cause unrest.”
Ned grunted in response, saying no more, allowing me to finish in silence. I quickly did so, before getting dressed myself, then I gathered the children and off to the Great Hall we went. It was not until we sat and I set Lynora between us, that Ned fully noticed my gown. He stared, lips parted ever so slightly, then slowly brought his eyes to mine. I smiled softly at him, waiting.
“What are you wearing?” he asked quietly, jaw beginning to clench.
“A very expensive gown,” I answered.
“Expensive? How could it have been expensive, there is barely any gown to it!” Ned hissed.
“’Tis not easy to make the fabric sit so precisely, dear husband.” I tipped my head and blinked innocently.
“Alyssandra, I—”
“Papa hold!” Lynora interrupted Ned, grabbing his shirt and hauling herself into his lap. She patted her small hands against his cheeks, forcing a smile from him. He gazed at her lovingly for a moment, then turned back to me, eyes narrowing once more as he shifted closer. But before he could say anything further, Robert was standing and so were we, and then food was being brought out and I was speaking to Robb, who had not in the slightest noticed what I was wearing because he was far too engrossed in what Margaery Tyrell was wearing. And before Ned could demand my attention again, I was standing, with a quick kiss to his temple, and telling him I had people to talk to, and walking away.
I had gone with a mind to speak to Lady Olenna regarding Margaery and Robb, but before I could reach her, Ser Bryce Carron and Ser Beric Dondarrion stepped in front of me and struck up a conversation. When the music began, the young Lightning Lord charmingly asked for a dance, and I was whisked away. I did not intend to dance further, but Ser Humfrey Hightower was at the ready to ask for my hand in the second, then Ser Raynald Westerling, and a number of others, until, laughing, I had to insist upon being allowed a rest. The young men (When did I gather a group of them? When did Theon join it?) politely acquiesced, one of them handing me a goblet of wine, another offering me a hand as I sat. I allowed myself the indulgence of their attention and spoke of my time at their age, of the things I used to do as a girl, then of the things I could do now as a woman, as a Lady Paramount. They all listened intently, their young faces focused completely on me. As I went on, soaking in their admiration, I saw Ned approaching, looking ravenous. He shouldered a few of my young men out of the way to stand beside me.
“Wife.”
One word. No ‘lady,’ no ‘dear.’ Only the barest fact of what I was to him. I ignored him. If he wished for my attention, he would have to be sweeter.
“Alyssandra, my pet.” A finger along my hairline, down, slipping under my jaw and turning my face towards his, forcing me to meet the storm clouds. “We are leaving.”
Well. Firmer would also serve.
I rose, setting down my goblet, and placed my hand at his elbow. The group parted to allow us through, all the young men dipping their heads. Ned was silent as we walked down the corridor, and I wondered if I had finally pushed him too far. I placed my other hand on his upper arm, trying to quietly get his attention, but he kept his eyes forward, his mouth pulled down in a deeper scowl than usual.
“Eddard? Are you alright?” I gently asked.
“No.”
“Oh.” I paused, but he did not elaborate. “Because of me?”
“Aye.”
“Do you wish to speak about it?”
“No.”
The rest of our walk was silent, only the sounds of our footsteps and the banging of my heart against my ribcage. When we finally reached our chambers, Ned let me in ahead of him, then locked the door behind us.
“The girls—”
“I told Maisie to find somewhere else for them to sleep tonight.” Ned grabbed my waist, gently holding me still. “Did you enjoy yourself, wife?”
“I had a lovely time dancing, yes.”
“Mmm.” Ned lifted a hand, slipping it under my hair to hold the back of my neck. “You know that is not what I mean, my pet.” He laced his fingers in my hair and tugged, simultaneously pressing his other hand at the small of my back, pulling me tight against him while keeping my gaze locked with his. “Did you enjoy all those young lords fawning over you?”
“I, yes, I liked their attention.”
“Only liked it?” Ned arched his brow. “So if I were to slip my hand between your legs, I would not find you dripping?” He pressed his thigh between my own, making my breath hitch. He smirked at that, then backed up, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the bedchamber. He spun me around to face away from him, fingers making quick work of the laces at my back, my gown pooling around my feet. Ned’s hands roamed my body, his mouth on my neck; I leaned back, wanting all of him, wanting him to fill me. Fingers slid between my legs, and a chuckle vibrated against my shoulder.
“Liar,” he hissed. “Which one was it, hm?” He slowly moved his fingers over my cunt. “Which arrogant, overeager prick did you imagine filling,” he pushed two fingers into me, “this cunt?”
“None,” I whispered. “I only imagine you.”
“Good.”
Ned removed his hands and gently pushed me towards the bed. I made myself comfortable, watching him quickly strip his own clothing. Ned settled between my legs, kissing over my breasts and up my neck, finally meeting my lips in tender, hungry devotion. I whined into his mouth, wrapping my legs around his waist and rocking up, rutting against him. Ned leaned back just enough to properly see me as he slid in.
“Mine,” he growled, thrusting slow and deep. “You are mine. No one else’s.”
“Yours, yours, yours,” I agreed.
“Gonna put another pup in you.” He bent and kissed my neck again. “Fill you with me. Mark you from the inside.”
“Ned, please!” I clutched his shoulders, tilting my head to grant him better access to my skin.
“Mmm,” Ned hummed in appreciation, nipping at the crook of my neck. “Those fucking boys think they could please you? Could handle you? Could make you melt? No, they know nothing of a woman such as you.” He kissed me again. “This mouth is mine.”
“Ned, gods,” I moaned, as he lifted a hand to my breast, still full and sensitive, Lynora not having been fully weaned yet.
“These tits,” he bent and gently bit the one not in his hand, “are mine. This perfect fucking cunt,” he slid his hand down my body, then suddenly pulled all the way out and brought his palm down sharply, making me jolt, “is mine.” He pushed back in. “You are mine in every conceivable way, every single piece of you.”
“Yes, yes, yes, please, Ned, please, fill me, fill me, please!” I begged. “Yours, all yours, I promise, please!”
“Good girl,” he purred and licked up my throat, his hand resting low on my stomach, thumb circling aching nerves. “Such a good wife you are. My good, beautiful, clever wife.”
“Ned, Ned, gods!”
“That’s it, release for me,” he encouraged. “Go on, my heart, release.”
I arched up into him, breath caught in my throat, then collapsed with a shudder and a gasp. Ned, teeth in my neck, thrust twice more, then, fully buried inside me, released as well, filling me just as I wanted. He slowly softened his bite, then shifted, so his head was on my chest, his cock still inside me.
“I love you, Eddard,” I murmured after a minute.
“Mmm.” Ned tilted his head to kiss my breast. “I love you, Aly.” He lifted his head, looking smug. “We shall have another pup soon.”
“You are quite confident.” I smiled, stroking his hair.
“I can feel it.” He laid his head back down, and I sighed, knowing, after seventeen years of marriage, that he had no better way of explaining it, and that I did not need one. All I needed was him.
Fluffy Catnis are so special to me!! Here's 585 words of them + a wee bit of baby Cyrenna.
“Why is this so difficult?” Stannis grumbled, pulling out the pins he’d just placed. I smiled at his reflection, lifting my hands to set them over his own. He frowned at them for a second, then at me in the mirror.
“You are only beginning, Stas. Be gentle with yourself.” I squeezed his hands, then let go, placing my own back in my lap. “Before you try again, why don’t you bring Cyrenna to me, that way I won’t have to interrupt you with getting up when she’s ready to nurse.”
Stannis sighed, but moved away, crossing to the adjoining chamber, where Cyrenna was sleeping. He returned a moment later with her, and gently set her in my arms, then moved behind me again. A deep breath, then he carefully gathered a section of my hair and began to braid. I let my mind drift, the feeling of his fingers soothing, regardless of the outcome.
“Stay still,” Stannis muttered, reaching the back of my head.
“I am still,” I replied, eyes closed.
“Not you, the hair.”
“Mmm, pin it, Stas. Then it shall stay.”
“I am trying.” I felt the very gentle slide of a pin.
“Try harder. You must be a bit more firm, my love.”
“I shall hurt you.”
I opened my eyes, smiling at his reflection. He noticed my smile and paused, brow raising in a silent question.
“The man who has taken me like a savage beast in rut is suddenly concerned of the damage he might do with a hairpin?” I teased. Stannis clenched his jaw for a second, then he bent down.
“That is a pain which I know you enjoy, wife.” His words slid hotly over my ear, making my breath hitch. “You like when I am,” his hand wrapped around my throat, “...rough. When I force you to stop thinking.” He squeezed softly, just enough to remind me of his dominance.
“Cressen has not yet deemed me healed enough,” I murmured.
“Then you best behave, my darling.” Stannis kissed my cheek, then released my throat and straightened again. He pushed in a second pin, a bit firmer than the first, nodding to himself when my hair remained as he had arranged it. He stepped back to look at his work, then huffed, frowning once more.
“It need not be perfect, Stas,” I told him gently. “Functional shall serve.”
“For you and Cyrenna,” his eyes moved to her in the mirror, still asleep in my arms, “it must indeed be perfect. You are divine, and thus she is as well, being of you. I shall not allow such splendor to be marred by my lowly clumsiness. It shall be perfect. I shall make everything perfect for you.”
“Oh Stas,” I sighed, my brow knitted in tenderness.
“Do not sigh at me like that, ’tis the truth,” he grumbled, focussing on my hair once more. “You are the only true faith I have, Catelyn.”
“You pray with me often,” I replied.
“With you, aye. Rarely without you.” He was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I strive each day to be worthy of you in the barest sense of the word. Allow me this effort, please.”
I knew better than to ask him to elaborate, and besides, Cyrenna was stirring. She blinked up at me a few times before frowning and whimpering. I shifted my dressing gown, granting her access to her meal, and as she nursed I thought of Stannis deftly arranging her hair one day and smiled.
Can I kindly request no.13 + Nedaly for the dialogue prompts thingy?🤗
prompt list here
Finally got this done! 886 words; angsty (but ultimately everyone is alright), some suspension of disbelief/acceptance of some level of magic required. divider by @strangergraphics
It was the first time Ned and I were bringing our children to King’s Landing and it was full to bursting in celebration of ten years of Robert’s reign. There were countless performances and events throughout the city, music and laughter and a cacophony of smells everywhere one went. Our children kept their guards on their toes, chasing our little wolves through the streets as they went in pursuit of every entertainment they could imagine in the sennight leading up to the grand feast.
Robert said his bit and the mountains of food were brought out; as was usual, Ned was rather quiet beside me, helping Arya and Bran, at only four and three years respectively, fill their plates and cut their food. I was happily engaged in conversation with Hugo and Sharra when I heard Ned cough. I turned, placing my hand on his arm, but he shook his head, waving away my concern. I focused back on the conversation for a minute, then Ned coughed again, and when I glanced at him, it was clear that something was wrong, for he was lightly flushed and his breathing was somewhat labored.
“Eddard?” I turned my body fully towards him, reaching up to cup his cheek and turn his face towards mine. “My joy, what is the matter?”
“’Tis nothing, Aly, I am fine.” Ned’s eyes flicked pointedly down for a second to my stomach, starting to swell with another pup. “Do not become agitated.”
“Do not give me cause to become agitated,” I replied, gently pressing my fingertips to the side of his neck, frowning at the rapid pulse I felt. “Eddard, you are unwell.”
“No, Aly, I—” Ned inhaled sharply, looking away from me and clenching his jaw. I quickly turned my head to look across the table at Robb.
“Go get Oberyn.”
Robb jumped up with a nod and sprinted away. I turned back to Ned, who was blinking at me as though struggling to focus. I shifted my hand back up to cup his cheek; Ned wrapped his fingers around my wrist.
“Eddard?” I brushed my thumb over his cheekbone as he leaned heavily into my palm.
“Aly, I don’t,” he took a deep breath, “I don’t feel so good.”
“Eddard!”
I wrapped my arm around his waist to keep him upright, his chest pressing against my shoulder. Hugo jumped up beside me and moved to support him, taking his weight off me, as Sharra went around to Arya and Bran and quietly moved them away. Across the table, Jon stood and took Sansa’s hand, bringing her over to Sharra and their siblings.
“Eddard, you need to stay awake!” I held his face in both hands, ignoring the murmurs around us. “Eddard, look at me!”
“You require my assistance, sphinx?” Oberyn spoke from behind me; I shifted so he could fully see Ned and he immediately leaned in over my shoulder. “Oh you do indeed need me.” He took a deep sniff of Ned’s wine, then turned and muttered to Axel, who nodded and hurried off as Oberyn began grabbing things off the table, tossing them into an empty chalice.
“You are familiar with this?” I asked, Ned now slumped against me, his head resting on my shoulder.
“Very—I designed it.” Oberyn met my gaze. “It seems someone wished to set you against me.”
“You can save him?” I did not care about the politics of this, not yet. I cared only about Ned’s well-being.
“For you, I could capture the sun,” Oberyn replied, pouring a bit of water into the chalice and muddling his concoction with a spoon handle.
“I have no need of the sun, Oberyn. I need my husband alive.”
“I am working on this.”
Axel returned a minute later, panting, and held up two small vials. Oberyn tilted his head towards the chalice, and Axel quickly poured both in. Oberyn glanced at Hugo, who pushed Ned upright again, holding him as Oberyn stepped forward and poured the mixture down his throat. For a moment, we all held our breath. Then Ned coughed once more, opening his eyes with a grimace.
“Ah, welcome back my friend!” Oberyn grinned and clapped Ned on the shoulder.
“Oberyn, what the bloody hell did you give me,” Ned grumbled, working his jaw. “Tastes bloody awful.”
“Tastes better than being dead!” Oberyn cheerfully replied. Ned tipped his head in acquiescence, then focused on me.
“My heart, are you alright?”
“Pft!” I blinked rapidly in disbelief. “I am not the one who drank poisoned wine, so yes, Eddard, I am quite alright!” I turned away from him, shaking my head. Oberyn and Hugo shared a look, then both quietly moved away, going to reassure our children. Ned placed his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me back towards him.
“Are you angry with me for almost dying?” Ned asked, moving one hand to the back of my neck, the other sliding down my arm to clasp my own.
“No, that would be silly.” I took a deep breath, looking away from him. “I am digesting my fear, that is all.” I met his eyes again. “Do not ever do that again, Eddard.”
“Alright, my heart,” Ned responded, pulling my head into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of it. “I shan’t.”
Inspired by this list (comforting them after a nightmare) and this one (‘please don’t go’ and ‘shh, I’m right here’), a bit of young Robb and Jon, plus Alyssandra. (The boys share a bed because they’re small and it’s The North, it’s cold.)
Robb was having the nightmare about the bad man again. I knew because his squirming and whimpering woke me up. I sat up, then reached over and gently shook his shoulder. Robb jolted upright, breathing hard, eyes wide.
“Robb?”
His eyes focused on me, before he quickly turned away, hugging his knees. I shifted closer, and placed a hand on his back. He shuddered, then leaned back, letting me hug him. For a long time, he cried, the faint howl of a wolf the only other sound.
“He had the king’s face, Jon,” he finally whispered. “And he said I was to pay for what Father had done. But Father’s done nothing!” He began to sob harder.
“I’ll get Mama,” I told him, starting to get out of bed. But Robb grabbed my hand, tugging me back.
“Jon, please don’t go.” Robb bit his lip. “Please?”
“Do you want me to go with you to Mama?” I asked, very sure that she was needed. We were always supposed to get her if one of us was hurt. And Robb was crying, which meant he was hurt, even if he wasn’t bleeding or bruised.
Robb nodded, and we made our way into the corridor and down the stairs, my hand in his. Harwin dipped his head to us as he opened the door into the corridor that cut through our parents’ floor. I carefully opened the door to their solar and we crossed to Father’s bedchamber, Robb still sniffling.
“Mama?” I patted her back. “Mama, wake up.”
“Hmm?” She rolled off of Father, frowning at us. “Boys? What is it?”
“Robb had the nightmare,” I told her. She sat up, opening her arms, and Robb scrambled onto the bed, awkwardly wrapping around where Mother was growing another sibling for us. I waited a second, then climbed in after him.
“Mama,” Robb cried, hiding his face in her neck.
“Shh, I’m right here,” she said calmly, rubbing his back. “I’m right here, sunshine. No one is going to take you from me. Not ever.”
