This beautiful and, in a way, breathtaking (at least in my opinion) artwork has been in my mind in concept for at least a year, and has been beautifully brought to life by Liesl. I have always felt that there was an almost biblical element to Robb Stark’s arc and his betrayal, by Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and most pointedly, Theon Greyjoy (though the latter was done with less malice, but then again, that is not a prerequisite to betrayal). Robb Stark is a young king with good intentions, wanting the best for his people, but whether from greed, a want for revenge, or a wish for belonging, he was killed. His murder in of itself was at the hands of Roose Bolton and Walder Frey’s men, but being that those men were not particularly close to Robb nor was the king fond of them, the impact of their betrayal comes mostly from the shock and gore of it all, as well as the disregard for the revered tradition of guest right. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey have a direct hand in Robb Stark’s death, but Theon Greyjoy’s betrayal of his self-proclaimed “brother” has an indirect part in it too (it is to be noted, when I say betrayal, I do not mean to imply that Theon owes loyalty to the Starks, the family that took him from his home as a boy; I am not of the opinion he does, but Theon describes his own actions as betrayal, for personal loyalty to Robb). It is a matter of debate if Theon would have been able to return to Robb without being intercepted by his father if he had chosen to try and warn his friend that the Ironborn were preparing to launch an attack instead of allying with the North. What is not up for debate is that Theon’s capture of Winterfell weakened the North and its morale, bringing into question how they should move forward. On a more personal level, Theon’s claim of having murdered Robb’s younger brothers, Bran and Rickon, was devastating to the young king. The grief was what inadvertently led Robb to sleep with and ultimately marry Jeyne Westerling. While the Freys likely would have tried to betray Robb at some point, if Robb had followed their plan to marry a Frey girl, he would have probably lived for some time, at least to ensure a Frey/Stark heir. Theon does not have full responsibility for all these acts, but his betrayal certainly weakened Robb. Robb and Theon were close as Jesus and Judas were, despite the “kings” being warned or otherwise knowing better. Judas betraying Jesus is more impactful than if it had been another other apostle, just as, in my opinion, Theon betraying Robb is more impactful than Roose and Walder doing the same. On a more general note, while Robb did not die on a literal cross, I do not find it to be a coincidence that he died at a dinner. Robb’s story likely is purposefully inspired by biblical elements, along with being informed by various other historical figures, which I will elaborate on below.
With the iconography in my commission, my intention was for the piece to contain symbols that could pass as something you could find either in a Bible from times past or a Westerosi history book. Liesl’s art is beautiful and too polished, given modern methods, to pass for something found in a medieval manuscript, but it does look like it could be a descendent of such a thing. Medieval art is too archaic for my liking so I had purposefully set out with this compromise in mind, and Liesl’s art style was the closest to my vision. The weirwood is specific to Westeros and the in-world religion of Robb, but the halo is more biblical in nature. My intention was not to portray Robb as perfect or pure-intentioned, certainly not as selfless as the Christian depiction of Jesus. The iconography is meant to be more saintly in nature. Saint is not synonymous with perfect, anyone who knows an extensive amount about saints knows that there are saints canonized that weren’t particularly good people in their lifetime. My particular inspiration was Edward the Martyr, king of England (before William’s conquest). Edward died at the age of 16 under guest right. He was killed by a group of guards, his own people, on his stepmother’s estate. His death, too, was described as Christ-like. Here is a quote from a recount of his death:
“Those magnates had agreed among themselves a wicked plot: they were possessed of so damnable an intention and so murky and diabolical a blindness, that they did not fear to lay hands on God's anointed. Armed men surrounded him on all sides… The venerable king had with him very few soldiers, since he did not suspect anyone, trusting "in the Lord and in the might of His power” — it was just as the Jews once surrounded our Lord… They were seized by a single madness, an equal insanity ... The soldiers laid hold of him: one on his right-hand side drew him towards him, as if he wished to give him a kiss; another grabbed his left side firmly and gave him the death blow.”
Who does that sound like???
I love the idea of Robb as a figure similar to Edward the Martyr. He is a boy-king, and not particularly religious or impressive in feats (though Robb, having bested Tywin thus far in the story, is significantly ahead of Edward in terms of his military). Their death is tragic and they are exceptional, not for being great men, but for being innocent children thrust into a role and then martyred. Thus their stories turn to legends and they are seen as holy or saint-like in nature. Though Robb worshipped the Old Gods, due to his maternal family’s legacy and beliefs, it is not all that far fetched he could have a cult dedicated to him or be revered by the Faith of the Seven later on in Westerosi history.
Concerning other symbolism, I will acknowledge that Robb’s youth is exaggerated here to drive home the point of him being little more than an innocent child. He has not grown his beard yet and he is dwarfed by his furs. His clothes are meant to intimidate, make him look regal and intimidating. But really, it makes him look like a kid. Theon is portrayed as an adult, five years Robb’s senior. He is not meant to be malicious and his love for Robb is not false. He still betrays him all the same, that’s the tragedy of it. Robb knows he is king, knows he should keep a distance from Theon, many have told him. But yet he is informal here, having removed his glove so Theon can hold him. Robb is not relaxed, but that is not due to a lack of affection or some sort of stiffness around Theon, but rather to create an effect of a dead boy walking, rigor-mortis. Theon’s clothes aren’t meant to have any symbolism about him. I looked at all sorts of biblical art and depictions of the Kiss of Judas to decide what colors I wanted Theon to wear. I saw a lot of reds and whites, but I didn’t like that for Theon. I saw gold as well, but we didn’t want to default to House colors as that is overdone. The result was giving Theon the most luxurious clothes possible. Black was an expensive color and velvet an expensive fabric. His garb is more expensive and showy than the King’s himself. That is because Theon is exceptionally vain and Robb is not. Theon has all sorts of jewelry and even has pearls on his boots. Who does that???? It’s so gaudy and impractical, I love it for Theon. The pearls will eventually fall off and he will have wasted a fortune, but Theon does not think about practicality like that. He is a guarded person decorating himself with bits and baubles to give himself some sort of purpose or comfort that is not there. He subconsciously wishes to trick people into thinking he is secure and has value, when he feels no sense of belonging anywhere. No wonder his father bullied him.
My endless thanks and gratitude to Liesl @shripscapi. I love your work and appreciate you. Everyone should follow her account and check out more of her art because it is beautiful. She is a joy to work with and very thorough and dedicated. She has been very flexible and patient with me in the months making this and my past commissions. I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with her, she is one of my favorite and most respected artists in this community. And thank you for anyone who has stuck here and read this, I obviously a passion for this sort of stuff. I love to ramble and this is my hyper-fixation so I’m very excited about this.
Warnings: Mention of child loss, bit of an age gap
Synopsis: The North has given him many names. The Young Wolf. The King in the North. A beast among men. Raised on tales of savage northerners and a king who was said to become a wolf beneath the moon, you have no intention of marrying Robb Stark, not without putting up at least a little fight. So, naturally, your first act as his betrothed is to climb a wall and flee your own engagement celebration. Unfortunately, the first person to catch you... is the very man you're trying to escape.
Word Count: 2,321
a/n: hi!! this is my very first fic and i took a lot of inspiration from Queen Charlotte loll. This is a bit of an AU fic where the red wedding never happened and Robb actually won the war. That being said some details may be off or iffy just bare w me 😭🙏🏽. Parts will be posted as written, Enjoy♡
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Robb Stark. King of the North. The Young Wolf. Your betrothed.
Obviously, you know that the man wasn’t a real wolf. You’d met him once when you were just a girl of 8 and he was a young man not even 18 years of age. But gods was he handsome and competing in the tourney your dad held in celebration of your name day. You remember him specifically because he’d offered you his favor before his last joust. You were sure he was doing it out of kindness and respect, but it flustered you nonetheless…And when he won, you got to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled this boyish smile and gods was he breathtaking. Blessed by the gods you’d some say.
But that was years ago, before the war, before he lost half his family and before he became king. And they say war changed him.
Being from Dorne, you’ve heard plenty of horrible things about northern men, that they were invaders and savages, Brutes is what most called them. And Robb was king of all of them. Growing up in the south and during the war, you grew up listening to those stories. They were told as bedtime stories meant to scare you & your younger siblings into staying in the rooms after dark.
You weren't afraid of him.
Not truly. That would be foolish. Childish. You were simply...
Uneasy.
Very, very uneasy.
So uneasy, in fact, that you found yourself climbing a wall, escaping you own engagement party. He hadn’t shown up yet, but his presence already sat heavy in the room. All the attendees gossiping in what they thought were hushed whispers, but you’d heard it all.
“Do you think he’ll actually show up?’
“I was told he almost refused”
“The Bitter King”
“Poor girl. She doesn’t know what’s she’s marrying”
“They say the part of him that was a man died with her that day”
It wasn’t a secret, of course you knew about his first wife, all of Westeros did. The story was tragic a one. His wife had died bringing his baby into the world and the baby didn’t even make it through the night. You felt sorry for him but now to hear his own people talk about him like this, you were terrified. Which is how you found yourself here, on this wall. The wall was extremely tall but covered with vines and branches. Luckily, this hadn’t been your first time climbing something, well the first thing was a tree, but this couldn’t be that much different. Right? Right. And it wasn’t…at first. you started with ease, the vines being surprisingly strong enough to hold your weight. But the higher you climbed the thicker the vines got to where you could barely manage to get you heels to latch on. You reach for the next branch when you felt something beneath you start to tear. It was the vine your right foot was latched on.
“Bloody hell” You cursed dragging yourself up and digging your heel into the next vine. This was much more difficult than you anticipated. You quickly reach for the next branch only to realize you were stuck. You had dug your heel way too deep into the vine.
“Bloody Hell’ You huff trying to free yourself. You couldn’t go up, you couldn’t go down, you were stuck. This was not a good idea.
Unbeknownst to you, Robb spectated the party with great and utter boredom. He didn’t care for this party, the whole engagement really. Robb came in late on purpose, he couldn’t be bothered with the formality of it all. He also wasn’t in the mood to entertain, still though; he wondered about his future bride. He would do his duty and you will give him his heir, of course, and he would respect you as his wife and queen but that is all it is. Duty. Speaking of…he had not yet seen you. Not that how you looked mattered, but he was curious. Dornish women are said to be the most beautiful women in the world.
A woman from Dorne, a princess of house Martell. Outside of titles, he knew nothing about you, just that he was 10 years your senior. He grimaced at the thought. He vaguely embers meeting you on your name day so many years ago. You were a but a little girl, to be fair he was barely grown himself but the still, it unsettled him a bit. Where were you anyway? He found him asking himself again. Hm. Maybe he way more interested than he had initially thought. He found himself wandering around the ballroom looking around for you. Sliding in between people, ending conversations curtly, until he found himself all the way outside.
She’s here? Is she not? He thought to himself. Sighing a bit in apprehension and a bit in defeat he walked further out into the garden feeling the need to get some air. That was until he heard the rustle of leaves and a loud THWACK! His right hand instinctively went to his sword as he walked towards the sound. The closer he got the louder the leaves rustled. And then it hit him, someone was climbing the wall! He edged closer to the corner before preparing to attack this intruder when there another THWACK! He turned quickly only to find a shoe, a lady’s shoes at that. Baffled he looked up to find the cause of the ruckus. A girl who could be none other than his intended, wrapped in her bright colored Dornish garments, tangled up in vines.
“My Lady!?” He called up, “What are you doing up there.”
You freeze immediately turning your head to look at the man that’d caught you. It was too dark to make his face but from his clothing, you could tell he was a northern man. Perhaps a lord or something judging by the way silver that glinted off his sword. However, you would not let this deter you. You tsk turning your focus your attention back on the wall. “Escaping, my lord.” Robb found himself bewildered watching you tug on branches only to further get tangled into the vines. This is the beautiful, dutiful, Dornish beauty everyone had been talking about? “Are you sure? ‘cause that’s not what it looks like to me…actually it looks like you may be stuck, are you stuck princess?”
You scoff in response, pompous bastard. “I am not stuck, just a bit…tangled up, so if you’ll excuse me”. The man below lets out a fully belly laugh only deepening your already growing embarrassment. “Look, you could either help me get down or leave me be.”
“What were you escaping from” he asked suddenly.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me”
“I don’t believe that is any of your business.” You almost hiss.
“If you require my help, Princess, I require to know why you got up there in the first place.”
You remain silent contemplating in your head whether you truly needed his help. Robb lets out a dramatic sigh putting his previously drawn sword back into its sheath, turning to walk away.
“Wait! Fine! Fine I’ll tell you. You swear you’ll help me?”
“Aye. I swear it princess” a small smirk playing on his lips.
You think for a moment before resting your head against the vines in defeat. “I’m escaping from the king.” You say finally in a hushed voice.
This catches him off guard so much so he almost trip over his own feet. He looks up at you dumbfounded and realizes two things at once. 1) You had no idea who you were talking to and 2) You feared him. Something stirred inside him at the realization. Something that felt a little like excitement. Maybe he could have some fun with his future bride after all.
“The king? Whatever for?” You snap you head towards him swiftly almost breaking your neck and falling in the process. You quickly turn back tightening your grip on the vines. “Don’t be daft, everyone knows the story of the Wolf King.” Robb let out a humorous breath almost chuckling to himself. He had know of the stories people told about him but he never actually learned what exactly they said. He never felt the need; it was all baseless rumors that only continue to get worst as they’re told.
"Do they?"
"Aye."
"Then tell me."
"You truly haven't heard?"
"Humor me."
You roll your eyes. Surely, he couldn't be serious. He wanted a story. Right now?
"They call him a beast among men," you begin. "They say the Young Wolf tears men apart with his teeth."
Robb lets out a scoff. "And you believe such myths?"
"Of course not!" you snap. "But he's never lost a battle. Ever. A man like that must be dangerous. Have you heard the way his own people speak of him? Even they talk about him like he's some kind of beast." You swallow hard. "And I don't intend to stay long enough to find out if they're right."
He drags a hand down his face, caught somewhere between disbelief and the desperate urge to laugh.
“They forgot the part where he eats southern princesses.”
You clutch tighter on the vines and narrow your eyes towards the man. “I thought you hadn’t heard the stories.”
He laughs in response earning a scowl from you. “Are you gonna help me or not?”
He takes a moment to catch his breath before clearing his throat and straightening, “Aye Princess, My Apologies. Jump.”
“I- Excuse me?”
He holds out his arms, looking up at her expectantly.
“Jump?”
“Unless you'd rather spend the night hanging off the vines.”
You turn your head to try to look at him again. You could barely make out his figure but from where you were…he didn’t look too big. He looked quite small actually.
“Uhm” You look down at the ground then towards him, then back at the ground. “And you’ll catch me?”
“I gave you my word.”
Finally, you squeeze your eyes shut and let go of the vines, letting yourself fall backward and into your arms. He catches you effortlessly and it’s almost like you fell onto a statue. You clutch on to the stranger for a moment before slowly opening your eyes. Then you start to notice
The direwolf clasp.
Your breath catches.
Then the auburn curls.
Those impossibly pale blue-grey eyes...
No.
Surely not.
Your gaze fell back to the silver direwolf fastened at his shoulder.
The sigil.
The eyes.
The curls.
The stories.
They all collided at once.
No.
No, no, no.
“You’re…”
He smirks, “Aye. Disappointed? I haven’t turned into a wolf yet.”
You gasp softly, all but jumping from his arms. “I-I’m terribly sorry…Your majesty” You move to curtsey, but his hand reaches out to touch yours stopping you. “Robb is enough. I am king of the north, yes, but I can assure you I am no beast.” He flashes a charming smile and you almost melt.
“I apologize, your majesty- “
“Robb.”
“…Robb, had I know who you were I wouldn’t have- “
"You wouldn't have what?"
"...Called you a beast."
"No?"
"...No."
"Shame.” He muses before leaning forward. “Now about the beast situation. Headless tales I had hoped my wife would look past.” You open you mouth to protest only for him to start again. “That was of course before I found out she does not want to marry me.”
He leans back looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“I did not say that.”
“But you did.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“It is…hm. “You click your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “I do not know you. “
He nods, “Aye. That is true. But I don’t know anything about you either princess. Well, just that your terrible at climbing walls.”
You scoff, “You try climbing a wall in these garments and those dammed shoes!” You grit out. Men know nothing.
Robb takes the opportunity to inspect you fully. Robb studied her properly for the first time.
The stories he’d heard about you didn’t do you justice. Your skin was kissed by the Dornish sun, warm where his own had long since paled beneath northern skies. Curls framed a face still flushed from embarrassment, and the silk of your gown looked far too light for a northern evening.
You hugged your arms tighter around yourself and it was then he realized you were cold. Without another word he takes his own cloak off and drapes it over you.
“Your g- Robb, you are too kind but- “
"You're freezing."
You open your mouth to object once more be he cuts you off.
"You'll wear the cloak.”
He gentle tugs the cloak over my shoulder and I cant help but to study him once more. Still, the gods favored him. The boy you had known before was nothing compared to the man standing before you. His frame had grown, and you were incredibly wrong before this man was big. You only reached his chest, having to crane your neck to look up at him. And his eyes…those pale blue eyes that were now staring right back at you. You advert your gaze immediately stepping back and clearing your throat.
"Clearly I was wrong. You're not a beast."
He smiles. “And you."
You look up confused, "...What about me?"
He pauses and you can tell he’s debating something in is mind. But he simple looks away and then looks back.
"...Are nothing like I'd expected."
You opened your mouth to argue but no words followed.
For a man who was supposed to be a beast, he was proving rather difficult to fear. “Neither are you.”
Robb offered you his arm, the faintest hint of amusement playing on his lips.
"Come, Princess. We have an engagement party to attend"
You hesitated before looking back toward the wall. The wall you had nearly thrown yourself from. The wall you had climbed to escape him. Now, you found yourself walking beside him willingly.
"You know," he said after a moment, glancing down at you, "I am curious."
"About?"
"How you planned to escape after climbing the wall."
You frowned. "I had not thought that far ahead."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
And despite yourself...
You smiled.
Perhaps the Wolf King was not the monster the stories had made him out to be.
(catelyn stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. it tickles. that made her laugh until she screamed.)
"lord walder... lord walder, enough. enough, i say. you have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end. on my honour as a tully, on my honour as a stark, i will trade your boy's life for robb's. a son for a son."
