summary ; an arranged marriage was hardly a novelty in the Seven Kingdoms. to keep a strong bond between the Vale and the North, the lord of the Eyrie and the warden of the North betrothed their children.
tags ; awkward Duncan, kinda strangers to lovers, arranged marriage, size difference if you squint ?? gentle and silent giant Dunc but inside he is so caring and doesn't want reader to be afraid of him.
author’s note ; okay, so decision of making reader Arryn came like last minute, after another edit of Lady Jeyne and her outfits!!😭🫶
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raised high above the clouds in the Vale of Arryn, you were no stranger to mountains or crisp air, but the North was a different beast altogether. not to mention the biting northern cold, that cut straight to the bone, despite all the lavish gowns, heavy furs, and pelts you wore - including the cloak draped over your shoulders, a pre-wedding gift and token of goodwill sent by the Lord of Winterfell, father of your future husband, alongside his proposal of betrothal.
the moment your procession crossed into the North, the realm of mountains and high blue skies - your home - fell away, replaced by an endless, humbling expanse of white. as far as the eye could see, vast plains and ancient forests lay buried under a thick mantle of snow, blanketed beneath a heavy, sunless sky of slate grey. yet, despite the dreary weather and the unrelenting frost that seeped through your finest Vale velvets, there was a majesty to this untamed land. it felt ancient, proud, and wild, and this feeling reached its peak when the looming, dark granite walls of Winterfell finally broke through the wintry horizon.
as you rode into the Great Yard, the grey-and-white banners of House Stark danced gently in the crisp northern breeze, their embroidered direwolves watching over the courtyard. the entire castle had assembled to greet guests : lines of guards, household servants, noble bannermen, and maesters, all standing at rigid attention with warm mist pluming from their mouths into the freezing air. at the head of it all stood the Lord of Winterfell and his family.
your mind instantly raced back to the lingering whispers of your ladies-in-waiting back at the Eyrie. the courtly gossip about the Warden of the North’s son had painted him as a huge man of few words, remarkably gloomy and taciturn even by the notoriously stoic standards of Northmen.
seeing him in the flesh proved every single rumor true.
Duncan was utterly impossible to miss. he towered over the crowd, standing out starkly even among a sea of northernmen clad in dark wool and leather. even among his own family, his sheer size was staggering. the dark, heavy furs layered over his broad shoulders made him look positively massive, pinned dramatically across his chest by two gleaming silver direwolf brooches.
your father was the first to dismount, leaping down to embrace his old friend, the Lord of Winterfell, with a warm, brotherhood-forged hail. servants quickly rushed to your side with a mounting block, helping you step down gracefully from your horse.
you smoothed the heavy folds of your mink-lined skirt, taking a brief breath to compose your fluttering nerves. but as you turned around, the air left your lungs entirely.
in just two long, effortless strides, Duncan had closed the distance between you. in his eagerness to finally greet his future to be lady love, he hadn't truly calculated the velocity of his moves. for a man his size he moved so impossibly fast and silently that you nearly walked right into his chest, as you were about to face the crowd of northmen, stepping back with a soft, startled gasp.
up close, he was a wall of shadow, leather, and fur, blocking out the sun and the cold wind entirely.
the moment he saw you startle, horror struck Duncan’s chest like a physical blow. he hadn't meant to loom over you like a mountain; he hadn't realized how completely his broad shoulders swallowed the light, or how his proximity forced you to crane your neck just to see him. panic and acute, burning shyness flared beneath his stoic northern exterior. he felt awfully out of place, desperately wishing he could shrink back three steps, terrified that his mere presence had made you feel cornered or even worse afraid.
"forgive me, my lady," Duncan rumbled instantly, his deep voice heavy as a rolling thunderstorm - and though if you weren't so tired, you might have caught the faint suppressed tremor of pure, flustered nervousness in his tone as those striking blue eyes locked onto yours for the very first time.
quickly composing yourself, you reined in your startled breath and dipped into a graceful curtsy, the fine Vale velvet of your gown fanning out against the snow.
"my lord," you murmured softly, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.
hearing your voice - soft and clear, with the gentle cadence of the Vale - sent an unexpected feeling of something very dear through Duncan’s entire frame.
you were finally here. you were his betrothed. his future Lady of Winterfell.
yet, as quickly as that warmth flared, a sudden, mortifying wave of shyness crashed over him.
it hit him all at once just how ridiculously massive he was compared to you. he hadn't realized in his hurry how completely he had crowded your space, standing so close that his towering shadow practically swallowed you whole - and then you took a small step back as his broad back inadvertently walled you off from the rest of the courtyard.
that slight movement pierced him with a sudden, flustered panic. memories he usually buried came rushing back in a quiet, embarrassing wave. none of it had ever been said with malice - not when the stablemaster, a rough and blunt but kind-hearted man, would chuckle that no ordinary horse could carry such a giant to battle; not when the maids in the corridors whispered, exchanging conspiratorial glances and lowering their eyes whenever the young lord walked past; and certainly not when his own father would clap him hard on the back with a booming joke about his height.
none of them meant any harm. yet, over the years, those harmless remarks had somehow pushed Duncan’s shoulders into a habitual slouch, training him to constantly try and shrink, to occupy as little space in the world as possible.
and, gods, how agonizingly clumsy and awkward he felt right now, standing over someone so delicate and refined. was he suffocating you? had he frightened you with his sheer size? he suddenly wished he could shrink three feet just to not feel so monstrously out of place beside you.
his jaw tightened in a desperate effort to mask the burning heat rising to his ears.
with agonizing care, Duncan reached out, his giant, calloused hand engulfed yours with caution, holding your slender fingers as if a fraction too much pressure might break them. a faint, slightly shy smile softened his features, and the icy blue of his eyes melted into something impossibly gentle as he leaned down.
lowering his massive frame, he pressed a feather-light, reverent kiss to your knuckles, his heart hammering against his ribs far louder than any northern war drum.
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GYAAAAAAH FINALLY MY FIRST FIC AFTER A HUUUUGE PAUSE
im sorry in advance that i parted it (just on two parts) but i couldn't wait longer and needed to post it!! my impatient ahh will start writing part two immidiately, i just need to see respond on this Stark!Dunc idea!! thanks yall in advance and also thank you for active you showed on last aerion post!! (more fics with him gonna be delivered soon as well!!)
