synopsisyou just wanted to be helpful, robby's helpful girl, you didn't realise that helping out might've exposed robby in an un-expected sort of way... (2.1k words)
warningssmutish, mention of sex, mention of big dick (it's robby, duh) condom, language
authornotei just absolutely was obsessed with this ask, i loved it so much. it's a big short, just a little thing, lowkey i think it's ass but it was fun. (gif credits to @timothyolyphant)
Pitt masterlist. Last Robby fic!
“I need a condom,”
It wasn't the typical greeting you were used to, really, it wasn't a usual sentence you heard in the ED. Especially not from Samira, flushed in the cheeks with her hair scraped back into a bun.
She'd rushed to you and Santos as you stood outside exam room three, discussing a patient when she joined the two of you, making the statement a little louder than she probably intended. Samira looked around the space behind her and besides you.
Trinity smirked, eyeing Samira up and down. “Okay, Mohan.”
“No, no, not for me, my patient,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Please, I wish it was for me.”
“Why do you need a condom for a patient?” you asked, amused almost. “Is he hot?”
“What? No? My patient, he's HIV but apparently very, very active and he doesn't have condoms. He says he-he prefers it without and I've explained everything to him but there's no condoms in the draw where we keep them!” explained Samira.
“We have a condom draw?” asked Trinity, taking only that as the necessary information from Mohan's ramble.
You handed her the chart. “You sleep with women.”
“What? So I'm not allowed in the condom draw?”
“It's for sex ed teachings, people who are young and having sex,” you shrugged. “Stuff like that. Come on, I can help you out.”
The nurses desk was practically vacant. Around you everyone busied themselves with greeting the nigh shift and getting them out, taking away patients like the changing of the guard. It was almost too early to be dealing with tough patients who wouldn't protect themselves.
You led the way around the counter, Mohan and Santos (who took an invitation for herself) followed you over to the desk as you reached down for Robby's bag, propping it up.
It was no surprise to them that you were reaching for his bag, reaching for his stuff like it was yours. What was Robby's was yours. The real surprise had been when Mel found the two of you eight months ago making out in the storage room, shrieking and dropping a bag of blood that then splashed all over you.
And obviously at the scream everyone ran over and found the two of you rather compromised and covered in blood. You still weren't really done living that down.
You fished around in Robby's bag, the owner somewhere not there to see as you brought out an opened box of condoms. “Here,” you said handing her a thick strip as Santos laughed.
Samira took them wearily, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Won't you... miss these?”
“No,” you said, rocking on your heels, suddenly feeling the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment. “We have... more.”
Santos smirked. “Keeping Robby in shape, huh?”
Samira shuddered. “I really don't want to think about my boss like that, but thank you!” you said, waving the strip like it was a flag and rushing off before her patient could walk off. She was a good doctor, dedicated you knew and you were just happy to help her reach her potential.
Distracted by watching her leave you failed to notice Trinity sneak over to Robby's bag, peeking inside like a nosy cat.
“Hey!” you lectured, pulling the zipper shut on her hand.
“What? Just wanted to know what else you got in there? Does he keep a pair of panties? Vibrator if it gets quiet,” she teased.
You blushed, shaking your head and looking down to the bag. “You have no shame, that's your boss you're talking about.”
She made a pfft noise. “You're the one screwing him.”
Yes, you were. Proudly and happily.
Javadi slid up next to you, practically shoving you a tablet and asking for your advice. You were somewhere deep in your residency, one of the first they were introduced to on their hell of a first day. Not as scary as Robby, easier to talk to than Langdon. It was typical for the Pittlings and Mohan to come to you when they needed advice. You liked it really, as much as Santos teased you and as much as Mohan and Javadi doubted themselves.
“Hey Crash,” said Trinity, all but giddy with the new knowledge she had about Doctor Robby's contents in his bag. “You wanna know what's in this bag of secrets.”
“No,” you chastised.
Javadi's eyes lightened up. “Is that Doctor Robby's bag?”
“It doesn't matter,” you said, pushing it back down to your feet.
“Hey,” Samira joined the group of you again, handing you back the strip of condoms. “He said he can't take these.” The rest of the doctors and nurses hustled around the Pitt, un-knowing of the personal dilemmas being aired out.
You lifted your shoulders. “You needed condoms, those are condoms.”
“Yes but they're not the right size,” said Mohan. “He says they wouldn't fit, they're too big.”
Oh.
Perhaps at some point you'd been shocked at the size of Robby. Before you'd only had your imagination and hints of him beneath his scrubs. The times when he'd brush past you in the teasing beginning of your relationship and you'd feel something prod at you. The first time he'd dragged you to his bedroom, lips seething in heat and teeth nipping in want to only lay you out on his bed and drag his pants and underwear down to show all of him- then you'd been shocked. Mouth watering so.
Over the months the shock transformed to desire, reaching hands and an eager mouth that you stopped thinking about the size.
You didn't think anything of it when you handed Mohan a strip of five extra-large condoms.
Standing at the nurses station it may as well have been a deserted island and you stared down at the condoms like it was your first offering of food.
“Uh-”
Javadi snatched the condoms from Samira first, staring down at them with mouth agape. “Oh my god.”
“Javadi-”
“Holy shit!”
You looked back and Santos had pulled out Robby's bag again, pulling out the box and staring at the size stamped on the front. “Santos!”
“No wonder you walk in limping.”
“I do not- I do not walk in limping!”
“Well, there was that one time-” said Mohan.
“No, there wasn't!” you argued. “I'd bruised my ankle.”
Mohan chuckled to herself. “Sure.”
Trinity smirked. “Bruised something.”
Javadi was still staring at the strip of condoms in wonder. “How do they even get this big?”
You snatched them away from her the way you might have if a child found them. Quickly you stuffed them in the box, threw them back in Robby's bag and kept it behind your back.
“Wait, why do you have a box of condoms for work?” asked Javadi.
“Oh please,” said Santos with a groan. “They're always at it in work. Better safe than sorry.”
“We are not always at it at work,” you defended.
“The storage closet?” asked Mohan, apparently abandoning the venture of finding fitting condoms for her patient.
You held up a finger. “That was one time.”
“The toilets,” added Santos, sadly remembering the time you and Robby had hid yourselves in the bathroom for a break. A break that was only supposed to be comforting touched turned hot and reaching quickly.
“That one time in the exam room where we thought we were examining a broken hip for a Mrs Driscoll-” began Javadi.
“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you interrupted.
“I think it's nice,” Trinity quipped her lip, arms crossing over her chest. “Get some dick when you can right.” She patted your shoulder like a proud sister as she left the group of you, laughing quietly to herself.
Victoria and Samira followed suit, leaving you with the ramifications of your own embarrassment. So what your boyfriend was largely endowed, wasn't it a compliment? Weren't you the luckiest girl in the world to have Robby with soft and tender touches turned to almost hateful thrusts with how hard he loved you.
You made sure Robby's bag was tightly closed before sliding it back under the desk.
The day brought the same usual storm the ED always brought. Enough to distract you from the mornings events and the package sitting inside of Robby's bag. You were left with only a creeping heat crawling up your neck, the last dregs of your doctors eyes on you and their giddy smiles.
You'd only managed to make it to the staff lounge for a coffee by mid day, taking the mug that was yours, marked with an inside joke and given one secret Santa round.
“Hey.” Robby slipped into the room, leaning his back against the sink and standing next to you.
“Hey yourself.”
For a moment there was a silence where you poured coffee for the both of you, handing him his mug.
Robby's fingers grazed yours, the simplest touch sending shivers through your skin. “Can I ask you something?”
You hummed, head tucked away. He wouldn't have heard about the mornings teasing's, would he?
“Santos has been... off today,” he said.
He would.
You gulped, a feign of concern falling to you. “She has?”
“Keeps looking at me and smirking. She's doing this thing with her hands where she-” he demonstrated, spreading his hands to different distances, some small, some bigger. His hands wavered around the imaginary object between his hands.
You were left groaning.
Robby's head tilted toward you. “Do you know anything?”
In attempts of hiding away the story your head ducked and shook side to side.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” you said.
Robby's fingers were slightly calloused but no less humble as he pinched your chin, realigning his gaze with yours. His brows rose, gaze pouring into yours. He didn't even have to ask you again.
You sighed. “This morning Mohan had a patient with HIV and she wanted to give him condoms but there was none where they usually are so I gave her some of ours. But they weren't exactly... the right size.”
There was a small furrow of confusion in his face as he waited for you to elaborate.
You turned your body into his, lowering your voice. “Not everybody can fit into an extra large, Robby.”
The furrow gave and a small grin split his cheeks as he glanced down to your shoes, a pink blooming under his beard and to his cheeks. It was different from your own embarrassment. He was more pleased with himself.
Robby straightened, hands wavering. “So how does... this connect to-”
“Santos was there this morning when Samira asked.”
He chuckled, tongue poking out into his cheek as he shook his head in amusement.
“It's not funny,” you said, nudging him.
He rocked on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Your coffee was turning lukewarm in hand, the bitter taste suddenly too sweet as you made to walk away from him and stew in your own humiliation.
Robby's fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged, using you to pull himself in closer. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he teased, voice dropping into the low drag in his condescending way. The sort of voice he used to coax you down into bed with his darkening eyes and lustful approach. “Is my dick too big? Do I fuck you too good?” His hands grabbed at your hips, bringing you into him, tongue darting out to your neck.
Your body wriggled in his hold, trying to escape as his arms grew strong around you. “Stop!” You laughed.
“Make me.” He nipped at your neck, licking over the sting he caused.
The door was pushed open and Langdon stumbled in the doorway, catching sight of the two of you tangled in arms and laughter.
“Are you two doing it in the lounge now?” he asked.
You guessed you just should've been thankful Langdon wasn't there that morning, otherwise there would have been competitions between him and Santos on who could make the best jokes out of your misery.
Slowly, Robby moved away from you, pulling himself up straight and pulling at his hoodie before leading the way out the room.
McKay was wheeling a patient away to x-ray, Samira was giving aftercare instructions to an elderly couple and Mel was somewhere lurking in a corner talking to Dana.
Santos, however, was still being the most productive, sitting across from Javadi and still trying to make sense of some invisible size between her hands.
You watched, un-able to stop as Robby walked behind Santos and spread her hands apart just a little, enough to leave more than enough inches between her hands.
Robby walked away, satisfied.
taglist (if you want to be added or took off just say the word!): @oldbaddies, @mafercita101,@tiddieshakeshownu, @mismwaa, @annabethpotter221b
summary: robby is going to be a dad. he doesn’t want to become his mom.
—
He doesn’t react the way you thought he would.
“You’re pregnant?”
You nod, fingers twisting together in front of you, nails pressing into your palms like that might keep you steady. “Yeah.”
“…okay.”
“Okay?” you repeat, your voice already tightening.
He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair, pacing once across the small space like he needs somewhere to put the energy building in him. “I just- I thought we were being careful.”
“We were,” you snap, the defensiveness immediate, sitting right on top of the fear you’re trying not to show. “Things happen, Michael.”
“I know that,” he says quickly, but he doesn’t sound like he does. “I just didn’t think-”
“That it would be me?” you cut in. “Or that it would be your problem?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you mean,” you fire back, your chest tightening, heat rising behind your eyes. “You’ve been very clear about not wanting kids.”
Silence.
Because you’re not wrong.
“I don’t,” he says finally, quieter now but just as firm. “I never have.”
It feels like something cracks open in your chest.
“Right,” you nod slowly, swallowing hard. “Of course you haven’t.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“No,” you shake your head, letting out a short, breathless laugh that sounds nothing like you. “You’re being cruel.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“But you are,” you say, your voice breaking despite how hard you’re trying to keep it steady. “Because this isn’t some abstract conversation anymore, Robby. This is real. This is happening.”
He exhales sharply, frustrated, like he’s already overwhelmed by something he hasn’t even faced yet. “I know that.”
“Do you?” you step closer, your hands shaking slightly now. “Because right now it feels like you’re trying to distance yourself from something that involves both of us.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” he says suddenly.
Your anger flickers, replaced with something quieter. “What?”
“I don’t know how to be… that,” he gestures vaguely, like he can’t even bring himself to say the word. “A dad.”
The fight drains out of you just a little.
“Then learn,” you say, softer now. “We figure it out.”
He shakes his head, something tight and almost panicked behind his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Silence stretches.
“Because my mom didn’t.”
He doesn’t look at you at first, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed somewhere just past you like he’s back there instead of here.
“She left when I was a kid,” he continues, voice lower now, rougher. “No explanation. No… build up. Just gone. One day she was there and the next she wasn’t.”
Your chest aches.
“Babe…”
“I remember waiting,” he says, finally looking at you. “Thinking she’d come back. Thinking I’d done something wrong. That I wasn’t enough for her to stay.”
His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes through it.
“And I swore I would never do that to someone else. I would never be the reason a kid sits there wondering why they weren’t enough.”
“You wouldn’t,” you say gently.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you insist softly. “Because you’re already scared of it. Because you care enough to even think like that. Bad parents don’t worry about being bad parents.”
He lets out a quiet breath, something in him wavering.
“You’re asking me to take a risk I’ve spent my whole life avoiding.”
“I’m asking you to trust that you’re not her,” you say. “You’re not going to wake up one day and just walk away.”
Silence settles between you.
“I’m not asking you to do this alone,” you add, your voice softer now, steadier. “I’m here too. You won’t be the only one carrying this.”
His shoulders drop slightly, like something in him is finally giving.
“…okay.”
You blink. “What?”
“Okay,” he repeats. “We figure it out.”
Your breath catches.
“Together?”
He nods. “Together.”
There are still moments. Doubts. Nights where he lies awake staring at the ceiling, his mind running through every possible way he could mess this up.
But he doesn’t run.
He goes to every appointment.
At first he’s quiet, standing slightly back, watching, absorbing, like he’s trying to learn everything at once. As if he’s not a doctor who knows this.
Then he starts asking questions.
Too many questions.
“What’s normal heart rate at this stage?”
“How big should it be by now?”
“Is that measurement okay?”
You laugh softly one time, squeezing his hand. “You’re worse than our patients.”
“I need to know,” he mutters, not even embarrassed. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
The first time he hears the heartbeat, he goes completely still.
The steady, rapid sound fills the space.
“That’s our baby,” you whisper.
He swallows hard, his hand tightening around yours.
“…yeah.”
His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding himself.
He doesn’t let go for the rest of the appointment.
He starts talking about the baby like it’s already here.
“You think he’ll like hockey?” he asks one night, his hand resting carefully on your stomach.
You smile. “He?”
He shrugs. “Feels like a boy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says, quieter now, almost like he hopes he’s right.
You laugh, leaning into him.
He becomes protective.
Hovering in a way that would’ve annoyed you months ago but now just feels safe.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“Enough?”
You roll your eyes. “I’m pregnant, not incapable.”
“I know,” he mutters, grabbing a snack anyway and handing it to you. “Just eat it.”
By the time you’re close to your due date, he’s different.
Like he’s finally allowed himself to believe this is happening. That he wants it. That he can be good at this.
The birth is long.
Hours blur together. Pain comes in waves that steal your breath and leave you clinging to him.
“I can’t do this,” you cry at one point, tears streaming down your face.
“Yes, you can,” he says, his voice firm but soft, his hand gripping yours. “You’re doing it right now.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
He doesn’t leave your side.
And then
A cry.
Your son.
Robby freezes when they place him in his arms.
“He’s-” his voice catches. “He’s so small.”
You smile weakly, exhausted, emotional.
“He’s ours.”
He looks at you then, his eyes soft, full in a way you’ve never seen before.
“…yeah.”
But then something happens.
“Robby.” You whimper.
His head snaps up instantly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel-” you start, your face going pale. “Something’s wrong.”
Panic hits him instantly.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he says quickly, his grip tightening on your hand. “I need help in here, now!”
Everything moves too fast after that.
Voices overlap. Hands move you. Monitors start beeping in ways that don’t sound right.
“Robby.”
Your voice is fading.
“I’ve got you,” he says, even as they start pulling him back. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.”
But then you’re not.
They’re moving you out.
“She’s got a clot, we need to get her to surgery now.”
“She’ll be okay,” someone says, but it sounds distant.
He’s left standing there.
Your son still in his arms.
The doors closing behind you.
He sinks into the nearest chair, his grip tightening instinctively around the baby, his whole body shaking.
“No, no, no…” he mutters, voice cracking. “You don’t get to do this, not now. Not after everything—”
The baby lets out a small cry.
Robby immediately shifts, instinct taking over, pulling him closer, cradling him against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of his son’s head. “I’ve got you, I promise.”
But his voice is breaking.
Tears are falling freely now.
Dana approaches slowly, her voice soft.
“She’s in good hands.”
Robby shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the doors.
“She wanted this,” he chokes out. “She wanted him so badly. She-“ He swallows hard, his chest heaving.
“My mom didn’t,” he says, the words spilling out, raw and unfiltered. “She walked away. She didn’t want to be a mother, she didn’t want me, and she just-left.”
His grip tightens around his son.
“But she does,” he nods toward the doors, tears falling harder now. “She wants him. She loves him and she hasn’t even held him yet and now-”
His voice cracks completely.
“What if she never gets to?”
The room goes quiet and no one knows what to say.
Time stretches painfully.
Every second feels like an hour.
“Robby.”
He looks up.
“She’s out of surgery.”
His breath catches.
“She’s okay.”
His shoulders drop, his head falling forward slightly as he lets out a shaky breath.
“Can I see her?” he asks immediately.
“Give them a minute.”
He nods, clutching his son closer.
When they finally let him in, the room is quiet.
You’re pale and clearly exhausted, but alive.
Your eyes open slowly when he steps in.
“Hey,” he says softly, his voice careful now.
“…hey back” you whisper.
He moves closer, gently placing your son in your arms. Not wanting to wait another second.
Your breath catches instantly.
“Oh my god,” you murmur, tears slipping down your temples. “He’s perfect.”
Robby sits beside you, his hand finding yours.
“You scared me,” he admits quietly.
“I’m here.”
He nods, squeezing your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“Don’t leave us.”
You look down at your son, a soft smile on your lips.
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Saying goodbye to family is always difficult.
Word Count: 5,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Growing up in your family, you were led to believe some things were so certain that they could have been laws of nature.
You would have a complete change of wardrobe every year in addition to the gowns you had made for special days, such as your nameday or Margaery’s.
You would get a gift from your father whenever he had to travel to a different part of the realm and came back home.
You would get a monthly allowance of jewelry so that—according to your father— you could learn the importance of patience, though you never really understood why he was so insistent on that.
And most important of all; you would never be out of your family’s sight, but that was about to change and you were nowhere near ready.
Sleep decided to leave you early in the morning, while Robb was still deep in his slumber. It took you less than an hour to understand you wouldn’t be able to doze off again; your mind was way too troubled to give you such peace. You tried to move out of his arms as slowly as possible so that you wouldn’t wake him up, but his grip around your waist tightened before he buried his face to the crook of your neck with a small groan.
“Robb?” you whispered and he let out a sleepy hum that vibrated in his chest. “Are you awake?”
He lifted his head just a little to peek at the window before he dropped it back to your neck. “It’s barely morning.”
“I think perhaps I should go and see if my father needs anything.”
“He’s asleep,” he murmured into your skin. “Just like the rest of the castle. Like you and I should be.”
“But what if he needs something?”
“He needs rest before the road, sweeting,” he said, his voice deep and drowsy. “It’s a long way from here to the Reach. Let him sleep.”
You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach, but you took a trembling breath.
“But um, mayhaps he woke up early to get ready.”
“Not this early.”
“But Silas always sets out bef—”
“They won’t sneak out before you wake up,” he assured you, already half-asleep. “I promise.”
You nibbled on your lip, trying to remember whether any of your brothers had said anything about when exactly your father and the rest of the household would leave, but came up empty. Robb’s breaths turned into soft snores behind you, and you made sure not to wake him again as you slipped out of the bed, Grey Wind raising his head from where he lay by the fireplace. You scratched at his head, grabbed your dressing gown and put it over your nightgown, stealing a glance outside the window. Robb had a point; you were sure no one else was awake just yet, but you didn’t want to lose any more time to sleep when your whole family would be getting on the road today.
Your father’s chambers were the first one you tried, but when you knocked on the door, he didn’t answer. A quick peek into the room from the door made it clear that he was indeed asleep, so you closed the door as quiet as a mouse, then made your way to Silas’s door. Your time in the Reach had taught you not to barge into Silas’ bedchambers, so you knocked on the door and took a deep breath.
“Silas?” you called out from behind the door. “Are you awake?”
His voice didn’t sound sleepy at all when he answered: “What is it?”
“Are you alone?”
“Uh….no,” he said. “I’m not.”
You bit back a smirk, fighting the urge to say good morning to Jon.
“I’ll be in my bedchambers, can you come there when you can?” you asked. “I must talk to you.”
“Of course,” he said and you walked away from his door to enter the hallway that led to your own bedchambers, but the sight of Elinor stepping out of your room made you stop dead in your tracks. She seemed as shocked as you were to see you there, but she overcame it rather fast.
“What were you doing in my room?” you asked with a frown, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“My maids haven’t been able to find my favorite necklace, I thought maybe it was there.”
You made a face. “I have my own jewelry with taste, thank you very much.”
To your surprise, she didn’t even retort, instead she just walked past you and made her way out of the hallway. You rushed to your bedchambers in fear of her having done something to your gowns, and though they all looked untouched, you pursed your lips, then heaved a sigh.
“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Now I have to check all of them.”
You weren’t even close to being done inspecting the first chest when Silas arrived in your bedchambers, but for the first time in your life there were more pressing matters than your gowns, especially when your brother seemed to share your low spirits.
“Does Aunt Anya know you’re going there with the twins?”
“Perce sent a raven a few days back.”
You played with the intricate embroidery of the pillow in your lap. “Should be fun.”
He just shrugged his shoulders, sprawled on the sofa across from where you sat.
“It’s about time I met Braxton’s betrothed, I suppose.”
“He is so in love.”
“Yeah but he’s also a fool, so we need to make sure she can be trusted,” he pointed out, making you roll your eyes.
“Silas. Come on.”
“I just don’t want another Elinor.”
“Don’t remind me,” you muttered and tilted your head. “When you said you weren’t alone just now, was it Jon?”
“Mm hm.”
“How’s—” You motioned vaguely. “Will you two exchange letters?”
He bit inside his cheek.
“This affair will stay within the walls of Winterfell,” he said. “It was just entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. He knows.”
“Does he know, or do you just assume he knows?”
“He very clearly does, seeing that I suggested he could come with me to Dorne and he said no.”
Your eyes widened. “You did what?”
“Dorne is much less restricted, especially compared to the North—”
“You suggested he could come with you to Dorne?”
“And I knew he would say no, so drop it,” he said. “It doesn’t mean what you think it means. He’s just a good man who’d be happier in Dorne, that’s it.”
“Fine, fine…”
“And you?” He eyed you up and down. “Are you sure you’re staying here in the north?”
“Seeing that I’m wed to the heir to the north,” you joked with a small grin, “I kind of have to, I think.”
“That rule applies to other people, not you,” he reminded you. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You shook your head, your chest tightening.
“I do want to stay, Silas,” you managed to say. “Robb and I are in love.”
“Oh that didn’t escape anyone, the whole North talks about how he barely lets you out of his bedchambers—”
“And you shouldn’t worry about me,” you cut him off, a fire spreading over your cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me after you leave. I promise.”
He heaved a sigh, then brushed a hand over his face.
“I know,” he muttered. “I’ll still visit before I go back home from Dorne, let’s see if you feel the same after the honeymoon.”
A smile curled your lips. “Dorne and The Reach share a border, the North is on the other side. It’s not as if it’s on your way.”
“I’ll make it my way,” he pointed out. “Besides, I’m in no rush to go home. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay until Braxton’s wedding and come back here with you.”
Your smile faded from your lips as your eyes started burning, but you blinked back the tears.
“You can’t escape forever, Silas,” you rasped out and his gaze snapped to yours. He swallowed thickly, then gave you that perfect courtier smile of his.
“Maybe I can,” he said. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to the Reach when you’re not there. Maybe I’ll just join Cliff and become a pirate and never go home ever again.”
“A merchant.”
“Oh please, he’s a pirate,” he said with a scoff. “He’s just too rich for others to call him that. I’m his brother, I can say it.”
A burst of laughter escaped you despite the lump in your throat and that seemed to coax Silas’ own laugh that echoed in the room, the heaviness threatening to crush your ribcage lifting a little at the familiar sound.
“You haven’t seen his crew!” he insisted through laughter, gesturing at the window. “I have been losing sleep over how I’m going to explain it to father when we all get to White Harbor and he sees his ship—”
Someone knocked on the door and Eadith peeked her head in.
“My lady,” she said, her voice lacking its usual cheerful tone even though she tried to smile. “Good morning. Would you like me to help you get dressed?”
The lump in your throat felt like it was growing bigger when you realized this was going to be the last time she helped you with your gowns, but you managed to smile back and nodded your head.
“That’d be great, thank you Eadith,” you said and Silas got up from the sofa.
“I’ll go and check whether father has woken up,” he said. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He pressed a kiss on top of your head and left the room, closing the door behind him. You licked your lips and stood up as well, then made your way to the table and grabbed the small box on the table.
“Eadith,” you said and held it out. “This is for you.”
Her head shot up. “For me, my lady?”
“A small parting gift,” you said while she took it from you in the most careful manner, and lifted the lid, a gasp leaving her.
“My lady…”
The box was filled with gold coins, and on top of them laid a scroll, an emerald necklace, a pair of diamond earrings and a silk ribbon you had embroidered with flowers yourself.
“You’ve always liked that necklace and those earrings,” you said. “They’ll look much more beautiful on you than they ever did on me. I have a matching ribbon with that one, I made sure to embroider both of them the same. And the scroll is my recommendation letter, in case Elinor tries to test your patience. I’m quite certain it’ll open many doors for you, including House Tyrell’s. I’ll also send a letter to Lady Olenna if you’d like, she’ll be happy to have you in her service.”
A sob ripped itself from her chest and she covered her mouth in an attempt to cover it before you wrapped your arms around her to pull her into a hug.
“It’ll be fine,” you said, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound calm. “We’ll exchange letters, and it’ll all be fine. You enjoy the Reach for me, and I’ll enjoy the North.”
Breakfast had come way too fast for your taste, especially when you knew the servants were readying the carriages outside. Yet, you weren’t alone in your misery; Jon had barely touched his plate the whole breakfast, stealing looks at Silas who was uncharacteristically silent the whole time, only speaking when he had to answer a question. For some reason, Perceon had the same guilty look on his face as he would when he was a mere boy and did something he wasn’t supposed to; chewing inside his cheek and pouting his lips—the only difference was that he was now too tall to swing his legs back and forth off the edge of his chair. Though you knew your father wasn’t in his best mood, he covered it up very well, jesting and laughing with Lord and Lady Stark.
“Are you alright?” Robb’s deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts, making your head whip up before you willed yourself to smile.
“Of course.”
“You woke up early,” he pointed out. “And troubled.”
“By my own thoughts only,” you assured him, and he laced his fingers with yours, giving you a soft smile.
“It’s alright to be upset about their departure.”
Except it was not. At least not in front of the northerners in Winterfell.
You were more than aware of their perception of you, and how it had gotten even worse upon seeing you in shambles during Robb’s duel with Ser Fossoway. Their sarcastic remarks the next morning had been as subtle as it could’ve been expected of northerners, carrying a hint of pity at your naiveté, and you were not going to make the same mistake and crumble in front of them again.
Robb was different, but the rest of the north did not excuse or entertain sentimentality.
“I’m just worried about my father,” you said while a footman approached your father to mutter something in his ear. “I know Arys says he’s fine, and so does Maester Luwin, but…”
“But you remain unconvinced?” he asked with a playful glint in his eye, and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I just know he’s leaving too early for my liking.”
“I tried to persuade him to stay for another moon,” he told you, making you raise your brows. “Last night.”
“Did you?”
“Mm hm, so has my father. But your stubbornness is a family trait, it seems.”
You heaved a sigh and lifted your cup to your lips, but turned your head when you heard your father’s voice.
“My flower,” he said. “Come take a walk with me before we leave, hm?”
You blinked a couple of times in confusion, then put your cup on the table and pushed your chair back in a haste.
“Of course,” you said and rushed to him as he stepped down from the High Table, then both of you made your way out of the hall to the yard. You couldn’t help but notice that even the air felt colder than usual, but you chose not to comment on it and instead linked your arm through his while he led you to the sept grounds, then both of you sat down on the nearest bench.
It was rather peaceful today, despite the cold weather. This part of the yard wasn’t as crowded—probably because only Lady Stark went to the sept— so it was like a small, secluded corner away from the chaos of Winterfell. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, causing you to look up for a moment before you turned your gaze to him.
“I wish you would stay a bit longer,” you said after a beat and he gave you a gentle smile.
“There are people waiting for me, my dearest,” he said. “And when it comes to departure, I’m afraid no time feels long enough.”
Your vision got a little blurry from the tears rushing to your eyes, but you blinked them back as fast as you could.
“I know,” you said. “But you—father, you will be alright, will you not?”
“Oh don’t worry about me,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “I will be alright, and so will you.”
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise,” he assured you. “We’ll see each other soon enough, and until then, you have your mother’s spirit. If there’s anyone who’s going to flourish regardless of where she’s planted, it’s you. With or without me.”
A tear managed to escape your eye, but you wiped your cheek in a hurry.
“And if I don’t feel ready?”
“I’m afraid no one ever does,” he said, reaching out to engulf your hand in his. “But it’s life, my blossom. Happiness has a way of finding you, even though it may feel difficult to believe in times of parting.”
You nibbled on your lip and nodded.
“But I’ll miss you terribly,” you couldn’t help but rasp out, making him smile again.
“So will I,” he said. “You know, I told the same thing to Ned yesterday, sons and daughters are so different. Sons grow into men, but daughters…” He breathed out a laugh. “A daughter never stops being your little girl who fills your castle with her laughter as she runs in the hallways, no matter how much she’s grown. You’ll understand that in the future, and so will Robb.”
“If Robb is half as good of a father as you are, our children will be the luckiest in the realm,” you said. “Just as I am. I’ll never stop being thankful to the gods for making me your daughter, I—” You took a trembling breath. “Father, I love you so much.”
You could swear he had tears in his eyes, but he blinked them back and pulled you into a tight hug just like he would whenever you ran up to him early in the morning to talk his ear off when you were still a child. The mere memory was enough to make you feel like you were back in the Reach again, and if you closed your eyes, you could make yourself believe you were in the garden of your father’s castle, choosing a gown for a feast being your only worry instead of being away from your father or Silas.
“I love you too, my flower,” he whispered. “And I’m so proud of you, don’t you ever forget that.”
You rested your forehead in the crook of his neck, trying your hardest to swallow the sob threatening to climb your throat.
“I won’t,” you whispered into the wind. “I won’t, I promise.”
One of the many things you had learned back in the Reach was keeping your mask in place.
You had seen it multiple times with multiple people. Silas was probably the best at it; no one except you could ever read through him or have an idea about how he was feeling at any given moment. To outside, he was always in a good mood, his smile signaling both amusement and nonchalance at anyone and everyone it was directed to. You and Margaery were taught not to let the mask slip in that exact way your older brothers did not; anyone who so much as looked at you had to think you were untouched by sadness or worry no matter what situation you were in. You were to appear calm and unreadable not only to your enemies but also to your allies, and you were beginning to think that although no one in your life had thought of the north while teaching you those skills, it was going to be one of the most important weapons you would wield in here.
If you were to be Lady Stark in the future, the nobles in the yard, who were watching you like hawks right now, could not see you cry at your family’s departure.
“We’ll see you in Dorne,” Braxton told you while your father talked to Robb who was nodding solemnly to whatever he was saying, his hands clasped behind him, his back straight. “My wedding is next summer, I already talked to Robb. He’ll bring you.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” you said. “And it’s about time I met your lovely betrothed! I’ll make sure to come at least a week before the wedding so that I can spend time with her.”
“Oh you’ll love her,” he said. “And she’ll adore you, I already know it. Right Perce?”
Perceon’s head whirled around and he cleared his throat. “Hm?”
“What’s going on with you today?”
“Nothing.” He shifted his weight. “Nothing, I just don’t like goodbyes.”
“It’s barely a goodbye, genius, she’s coming to the wedding.”
“I hate goodbyes too.” You reached out to squeeze Perceon’s hand and he tried to smile, his eyes darting over your face.
“And you’re sure you’ll be happy here?” he asked. “Because if you find it otherwise, you only need to send a raven and—”
“Silas would beat you to it,” Arys’ voice reached you before he clasped Perceon’s shoulder. “He memorized the secret pathways already.”
“I’ll send ravens to both Silas and you if I’m in need to saving,” you jested. “Hearing that does remedy my heartbreak of your departure even if it’s just a little. Thank you Perce.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mention it.”
“You’ll be sick of my letters, all of you,” you warned them, making them chuckle. “I’m warning you beforehand. I’ll report everything that’s happening here.”
“The reports will be; it snowed yesterday, it is snowing today, it will snow tomorrow,” Arys pointed out as you pushed at his arm. “I’m saying this as a future maester who knows of the North’s climate! Do you doubt my knowledge? Winter is coming and all that.”
“Maybe after Brax’s wedding, I’ll visit you in Oldtown,” Perceon said and Braxton shrugged.
“We can all go. Me, Myria and you.”
“You should,” Arys said. “None of you will want to go back to Dorne.”
“See, that’s a very bold claim—” Perceon started but Braxton elbowed him when Alton stepped closer to you.
“Hey,” he said after a beat and gestured at the carriages. “We’ve said goodbye to Lord and Lady Stark, and everything is ready, so…”
“Ah,” you said. “Very well.”
Perceon and Braxton exchanged glances while Arys rolled his eyes and kept his gaze on Alton as if he was trying to make him speak with mind power alone.
“Take care,” you said after a couple seconds of uncomfortable silence and Alton pursed his lips, then nodded his head.
“You too,” he said. “I hope you and Robb have a happy union.”
Perceon narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth but Braxton jabbed him in the ribs before he could say anything.
“It won’t be the same without you,” Alton added, unable to meet your eyes. “The castle.”
“It’ll be more peaceful,” you jested, a chuckle spilling from his mouth.
“Yeah,” he muttered more to himself. “Yeah, and quiet.”
Over his shoulder, you could see Elinor eyeing you up and down before she got in the carriage without so much as a word to you. Arys gritted his teeth, crossing his arms while Alton turned his head to look back at the carriage, then offered you a small smile.
“I’ll see you later,” he said. “Stay safe.”
He walked away from you to the carriage, and Perceon threw his head back.
“Are we sure he’s related to us?” he asked as Cliff made his way to you. “Are we sure he’s not a ward father decided to take in?”
Arys raised his brows. “I feel like father would’ve let us know at some point if that were the case, Perce.”
“I’m just saying, none of us was around when he was born.”
“When who was born?” Cliff joined the conversation and Perceon gestured vaguely in the direction of the carriage.
“Alton,” he said. “I refuse to believe we’re related.”
“Refuse it all you want, he’s still family,” Cliff said and threw an arm over your shoulder. “Speaking of family, are we really leaving you here?”
You smiled up at him. “Seems that way.”
“You’ll see me sooner than you see these three.” He gestured at the twins and Arys. “I meant what I said earlier. I do a lot of business in the White Harbor, I’ll make sure to visit Winterfell whenever I’m there.”
“Please do,” you told him. “Seeing you will make me happy beyond words.”
“But everyone is coming to my wedding,” Braxton pointed at all of you. “Cliff, I don’t care what kind of pirate business you’ll be busy with, you will be there.”
“Merchant. And yes, I will be.”
“Arys?”
“Oh I’m definitely coming, I need to meet the poor girl who willingly said yes to marrying you.”
“After she bested him in combat,” Cliff reminded him and Perceon grinned.
“I’ll tell all about that to their future children.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Silas stepping out of the keep with Jon following him not far behind, but he approached Theon while your brother made his way to you without so much as another glance in Jon’s direction. Lord and Lady Stark was now conversing with your father, and Silas heaved a sigh.
“Hey.” He smiled at you before turning to your brothers. “We’re ready to go, go bid farewell to Lord and Lady Stark and thank them.”
“You’d think we’re still children,” Braxton grumbled but they all walked away from you to Lord and Lady Stark to do as Silas asked.
“Is everything alright with you and…?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Of course,” he said. “Just uh, a last minute goodbye.”
“You’ll see each other when you come visit me,” you reminded him. “Which you will. A lot.”
“I will.”
Your throat started aching again but you looked down to pretend to fix your bracelet. “Promise?”
“Promise,” he said. “You remember all our secret codes for the letters?”
You nodded, still fiddling with your bracelet. “I will use them if they’re needed.”
“Good.”
You lifted your head from your bracelet once you made sure your expression would be serene for anyone who was watching you.
“Thank you Silas,” you managed to say as your other brothers started getting into the carriages. “For everything. I love you.”
He swallowed thickly, then pulled you into a tight hug so that he could hide his face into your hair.
“Remember,” he muttered. “Just like how we used to play monsters-and-maidens. I’ll save you from anything and everything, you just say the word.”
He pressed a kiss on top of your head, then pulled back to smile down at you as your father stepped closer to you.
“Well, my flower,” he said, pinching your cheek. “I guess I’ll see you in Dorne next summer.”
“And I shall have many tales to tell you,” you told him. “So much gossip too, but you must follow Arys’ advice until then.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Father!” you protested and he let out a boisterous laugh before giving you a hug.
“Take care, my blossom.”
“You too father.” You kissed him on the cheek, commanding yourself not to cry for what felt like the hundredth time today. He bowed at Lord and Lady Stark, then made his way to the carriage while Robb stepped closer to you to touch your lower back as if he wanted to assure you he was there. You entwined your fingers with his, leaning sideways to his arm as Silas mounted his horse.
“Robb, I like you, but I will kill you if you hurt her.”
Your eyes widened. “Silas!”
“I’ll hand you the sword myself if I ever hurt her,” Robb told him and you squeezed his hand.
“How about nobody kills each other?” you mused and Silas nibbled on his lip, then nodded at you.
“Be careful.”
“Be happy,” you replied and he scoffed a laugh, then cantered his horse out of the court yard like he couldn’t trust himself to be there any longer.
Your father stood by the carriage for a moment, watching you with a sad smile on his face as if he wanted to etch you into his memory. You forced yourself to smile back despite the heavy weight in your chest, then waved at him, coaxing a small chuckle out of him before he waved back, then got in the carriage. You sniffled when the carriage moved and watched it pass through the gate, Robb snaking an arm around your waist.
“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to retire for the day?”
The offer was way too tempting especially with the threat of tears rushing to your eyes, but you blinked fast, then gulped and shook your head.
“No,” you managed to rasp out. “I’ll be fine, my love. Thank you though.”
In your defense, you tried, you really did.
Throughout the day, Robb kept you within his sight like he half expected you to burst into tears at any moment, but you were too good of a courtier to let anything slip. You were all smiles all afternoon, you made small talk with your ladies-in-waiting, you helped Sansa decide what to embroider on her new gown, you had even entertain the ladies Lady Stark introduced you to with stories from the Reach.
It was only when Robb went to his father’s solar with a northern lord and you stepped away from the ladies that you turned your head to look for Silas in the hall, the joke you had thought of dying in your throat when you remembered he wasn’t there anymore.
Hence where you were now. Sitting on your and Robb’s bed, with Frost—who was brought to by a very confused maid per your request—resting her head in your lap while you stitched tiny flowers to a ribbon that was to be her leash. There was a heavy ache in your temples, no doubt because of how hard you had cried before you sent for Frost, but at least your sobs had calmed down a little, letting you focus on your work.
“I think you should have different colored ribbons,” you muttered to Frost. “For different days. So that you can match my gowns, no?”
She purred like a cat and you sniffled, then held the ribbon next to her head before you shook your head.
“Mayhaps I could stitch hearts on it too,” you said, running your fingers through her wool. “Flowers and hearts. And what else—wheats as well? For my house?”
Frost heaved a sigh, then nudged at your hand when you went back to stitching so that you would drop it and keep petting her instead. You smiled at her, then leaned down and pressed a kiss on her head.
“We can also braid the ribbons,” you muttered to her. “That would look pretty too.”
Frost bleated at you and as if on cue, the door to your bedchambers opened, making you turn your head to see Robb. Even you had to admit that you probably made a rather strange picture; surrounded by ribbons with a lamb happily resting on top of them, but Robb didn’t comment on it, the only clue to how funny he found it was the small twitch on the corner of his lips.
“Here you are,” he said. “I’ve been wondering where you were.”
You pouted your lips, then shrugged.
“I couldn’t….” you trailed off. “I needed some peace and quiet, away from everyone.”
He heaved a sigh, then made his way to the bed and lifted Frost easily, earning himself a bleat of displeased protest.
“Go play with Grey Wind,” he told her and placed her on the floor. “Go on.”
Frost bleated at him again, but ran out of the room, the click-clack of her hooves echoing in the hallway. You lowered your head, then stuck the needle to the side of the bed and started picking up the rest of the ribbons just so that you could keep yourself busy, but your sniffle gave you away when Robb sat beside you. A sob ripped itself from your chest while he pulled you into his arms without so much as a word and you wiped your eyes, his pleasant scent soothing the pain in your chest just a little.
“They all left,” you managed to say, your throat tightening. “Silas too.”
“I know.” He shushed you gently when you hiccupped, pressing a kiss on top of your hair while he cradled the back of your head, his other hand rubbing your back. “I know, lamb.”
“I just thought of something to tell him—and he’s not—he’s not here.” You hiccupped again, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger as you buried your face to Robb’s chest. “He’s not here and my father isn’t here and Margaery isn’t here, they’re all away and I feel so—so utterly alone...”
“I’m here, sweeting,” he said, his voice soft. “And I promised you on your very first night here, remember? You will never be alone here.”
The memory was enough to make you smile even with the ache in your chest.
“You promised as Benjen the servant,” you murmured, your tone so low that it was almost inaudible, and he hummed.
“I’m still at your service,” he said, drawing a teary giggle out of you. “And very well then, if my beautiful wife wants me to promise as her husband, I shall follow her wishes. You’ll never be alone here, my love. No matter what, you’ll always have me.”
You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, and he ran his knuckles over your cheek to wipe the tears away while you played with the laces of his shirt.
“Even with the flimsy gowns?”
“Especially with the flimsy gowns,” he corrected you in such a solemn manner that a simple listener would’ve thought you were talking of the future of the realm. “Why do you think I said yes to Braxton so fast when he invited us to Dorne? So that you can wear even flimsier gowns, I’m told that’s the norm there.”
Your laughter echoed in the room. “Robb!”
“Oh now you dislike honesty, is that—” His question was interrupted when you pushed at his arm and he easily caught your hand before you fell on the soft furs with him on top of you. A giggle escaped you despite the tears in your eyes, and he dipped his head to give you a curt kiss, then pulled back to let you breathe as you sniffled again.
Gods, even with all this sadness in your heart, you still couldn’t help but realize how handsome he was for the hundredth time.
“It’ll be okay, lamb,” he assured you. “And you will see them soon enough, I promise.”
You didn’t know it back then but Robb was right; though not all of them, you would indeed see most of your family again soon enough.
