Holding a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, you peered out from behind the tree, seeing Robb slowly patrolling the forest, calling out after you.
“Y/N? I know you’re in here somewhere, and I know these woods better than you. I’ll find you, it’s only a matter of time. I’ll get you back for this morning!”
This morning, you’d awoken your lover with a pail of freezing water, rushing out of the room and fleeing into the woods to avoid his wrath, however harmless it could be.
He chased you to the Weirwood, but you managed to hide in between some of the trees, and had remained hidden for the better part of an hour, heart pounding against your chest. You could hear his footsteps cracking on branches and snow, growing closer by the second. In a last ditch effort, you sprung out from behind your tree, intending to dart across the clearing, but finding his arms around your waist in an instant.
Holding you tightly, and resisting your struggles, he laughed lowly in your ear. “You didn’t think I’d catch you?”
Still thrashing in his arms, you pounded futilely on his arms, demanding he release you, a wide and carefree smile on your face.
His fingers began to trace your waist, watching you erupt into uncontrollable laughter as he caressed your weak spots, tickling you into submission. “This’ll serve as a reminder when you want to wake me in future days!” He teased, feeling you shudder and twist in his arms.
“No! I surrender! Leave me be!” You pleaded, in between strings of laughter, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Have you no mercy?”
Even when his vengeance was completed, he still held you in his arms, glad to be with you, even when you indulged in your more devious pastimes.
Your relationship with Viserys was a source of pride for the remaining Targaryens, your committal to the ideals of your father, keeping the Targaryen bloodline to the purity which it had been for many years. Even as you were exiled from Westeros, your small family remained together, helping to raise Danaerys as authentically as you could to how you’d been raised.
You built a bond with her, an amalgam between a maternal figure and the older sibling she needed to help her through such trying times.
Thus, as news of your conceiving of a child was received, she was the first person you told. It was cause for celebration! You had an heir, and a viable claim to the throne now!
You took her hands in yours and brought her out into the balmy summer air. “I think I’m pregnant, Dany.”
Danaerys was silent for a moment, staring back at you, before mirroring your excitement and squeezing your hand. “Have you told Viserys yet?”
“I will,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “soon.”
She frowned with minor disapproval. Despite the closeness of your bond, both of you were prone to keeping secrets. “He’ll be happy to hear it, Y/N, you’re the only thing that matters to him.”
“But, what do you think?”
Her brow furrowed. “What does it matter what I think? I’m excited to be an aunt, to spoil them rotten, teach them our history, like you taught me. I’ll be by your side, no matter what. Now, go tell Viserys!” She gave you a light-hearted shove towards the door, corners of her lips twisting up into a pleasant expression.
Your apartment in the aftermath of an argument with Robb was always a disaster area. Things strewn about, slammed doors, and messy or torn clothing. Tonight was meant to be dinner with his parents, and a disagreement had emerged over the length of your skirt, which had ended in his tearing of your dress, which had led to you storming off and locking yourself in the bathroom you shared.
You could hear his footsteps approaching the door. “Y/N…” he knocked twice. “We need to go if we’re going to beat traffic.”
You sniffled, wiping your nose, and smearing your makeup further. “I’m not going.” You spoke with determination, though your voice wavered slightly as you spoke.
“Don’t be a pain, we told them we’d meet them at the restaurant.” Your silence had him knocking again a few seconds later. “Y/N…”
“We’re not going until you apologize!” You demanded, throwing one of your heels against the door, vision blurred with tears. “You ruined my dress! You accused me of sleeping around! If you’re so ashamed to be with me, you can go by yourself!”
He sighed, twisting the knob again, letting his shoulders droop as he lowered his voice. “I just want them to like you. My family, they mean a lot to me, and after the last few girlfriends, they might think you’re just another fling, and I don’t want that.” He felt partially hopeful as he heard your pensive silence on the other side of the door. “Can you forgive me? I’ll help you pick out another dress.”
Slowly, very slowly, you approached the door, twisting the lock and leaning out into the hallway, staring at him with reddened eyes. “From now on, I wear what I want. They either like me or they don’t, I won’t pretend to be someone else for them.”
Excited at the prospect of moving past this, Robb agreed to your conditions wholeheartedly.
You and your sister Lyanna were in the armory, examining your brother Brandon’s new jousting armor, emblazoned with the sigil of the wolf on glimmering steel.
Lyanna was the first to speak. “It’s so clean and unattended…” her eyes drifted over to you, devilment clear in her eyes. “It would be a shame if someone tampered with it. So embarrassing for Brandon, if his armor didn’t fit quite right.”
You nodded, crossing your arms. “Especially if that Tully girl saw him, he’d be pure raging.” Reaching forward and unlatching an arm-guard, you tucked it in the folds of your dress, along with the helmet and accompanying sword. By the end, you’d left half a set of armor in the armory, and the other half on top of Ned’s bed.
The trap was laid, but the next part was trickier.
You were waiting in the armory when Brandon arrived, cursing and searching the room for the missing pieces and finding you instead.
“Y/N, where did you put my armor?”
“I didn’t touch it. I know who did though.” You extended a hand and lead him out into the center of the courtyard, pointing up to the open window, where Ned was examining a lovely steel blade, the same color as Brandon’s breastplate.
Brandon’s expression grew murderous. “I’ll go fetch it then.”
He disappeared into the castle, and a few moments later, you could hear the shouting from the second story.
“-I didn’t take it! I don’t know how it-”
“Choke and die!”
Taking Lyanna’s hand and shaking it in a celebratory way, you examined the havoc you’d created for your brothers. That’ll teach them what throwing snowballs in the morning yields.
Daario lit a cigarette, watching you redress in the corner of the room, moonlight flooding in through the far window, and wisps of smoke collecting in the air. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You hugged your shirt to your chest, feeling filthy and used. This was the third time he’d invited you over ‘just to talk’, and the third time he’d coaxed you into bed. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to her.”
“Danaerys is out of town every other week, it’s not like she’ll find out!” He slid out of the bed, approaching you and moving to grab your hands. “Baby.” He frowned as you pulled away.
“No. That’s not going to work this time. You need to choose, Daario. Me, or her?”
Missandei had always respected your quiet strength. You weren’t a fighter by any means, but you stood up for your ideas and opinions, even when more unsavory characters would bully you into silence. The idea of any woman, especially a former slave, voicing her opinion was threatening to them, and though Khaleesi had repeatedly encouraged you to raise your voice, you were often found in the back of the room, listening and speaking only when asked.
It was a habit she was trying to free you of.
“You’re not a slave anymore, Y/N. You can say whatever you want to. You’re intelligent and wise,” she caressed your cheek, nudging you into meeting her eyes. “Speak your mind.”
“I love you.” You responded, heart soaring at a million miles a minute, cheeks flushed with the warmth of young love. “Can I say that?”
Missandei pulled you quickly into a soft and extended kiss, her thumbs tracing circles on your jaw. “Especially that.”
Anonymous requested: “Could you write a ned Stark x reader imagine? One in which Catelyn dies and Ned reluctantly marries one of his bannermen s daughter, who hasn’t married yet because she cannot have children (they somehow know that)”
warnings: mentions of past character death, misogynistic view of women’s worth, the agonizing beginning of a slow burn
{While on my writing spree, I figured three fics in one day was too much, even for me. If you like this, shoot me an ask! Your excitement feeds mine, lets keep this pace going!}
Ned Stark had never expected to marry again. After he’d married and buried Catelyn, the love of his life, he intended to raise their children and expire, to be buried alongside her, and the thought of this was his only comfort on lonely nights. A year passed, and then another, and the wound began to slowly stitch itself shut, Winterfell returning to some semblance of normal as the grief gave way for distant pain.
They hadn’t forgotten her, by any means, but for the sake of maintaining their lives, they learned to function without her.
The patriarch of another northern family had come to visit, bringing his own share of woes to explain to Ned in great detail over a great deal of wine.
Robb’s back was resting against the lip of your bathtub, wringing his hands to keep from grabbing the small piece of plastic that determined whether or not you were starting a family together.
You were sitting on top of the toilet seat, resting your chin on your fist and rocking back and forth on your heels. The waiting was undoubtedly the worst part.
His phone chimed with a small rhythmic alarm, and his hand flew for the pregnancy test, but stopped just short. He glanced up at you with a nervous smile. “Do you want to look?”
Licking your lips, you reached down to grab the test, and glanced at the indicator, processing the positive result displayed on the small white screen. You glanced up at Robb, your eyes beginning to water, as you quietly remarked: “I think I’m pregnant.”
Robb felt a burst of elation in his chest, and he quickly pulled you to your feet and into his arms, engulfing you in an embrace. The moment was too perfect for words, but he buried his nose in your hair, and held you close, the way he intended to for the rest of his life.
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 