{ Part Two??? I was kind of unsure of the direction of this story, but I kind of like where it ended up. What do you guys think?}
You felt like a fool.Â
This morning had begun with such promise, sky clear and sun high, with the light chatter of songbirds outside your window. Your father’s campaign to find any man to take you had been briefly halted by an extended visit to his old friend Ned Stark. After pleasant conversation and decent wine, you regarded Ned as a friend, and you suspected he felt the same, based on your continued tradition of speaking each night.Â
Somehow your shared sorrow had made you both feel hopeful, at least for a minute, that perhaps tragedy didn’t beget tragedy. Maybe there was something else in this world, something else that the Gods intended, renewed purpose.Â
And then you had gone and smashed that budding friendship to pieces.Â
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.Â
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.Â
“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!”Â
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.”Â
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.Â
{As I was sifting through the mountain of requests that remain, I realized I’d hit a string of Robbs, so apologies if my blog seems a little Robb-centric as I finish up some older requests. The sequel to this has been long requested, so here it is!}
The indifference between the King and Queen of the North was palatable, and uncomfortable for all other parties involved in their extended lover’s spat. He treated you as a token of your father’s loyalty, one that even his tender heart exploited. You publicly questioned his decisions and ability as a leader, which was equally as damaging to his reputation.Â
The most recent example of this proverbial winter was a meeting of banner-men, during which, you were asked to leave, a first since your union months ago.Â
You lifted a brow and glanced briefly towards the men watching your reaction, including your father, and back to Robb. “What are you doing?”
He barely looked up from his maps, his posture stiff and unflinching. “I asked you to leave, Y/N. You have no business in our military proceedings.”
@andtheytoldustotellyouhello requested “Or a Stark!reader x Willas tyrell where they get married before Robert dies and then she saves her sisters from the capital?”
[Thank you for the request!]
§
The Reach was no place for a Stark. Despite all the whispered encouragements and feather-light kisses her husband would give her, Y/N could be assured of this.
Starks belonged in the North, in the snow; in Winterfell.
Each morning the handmaidens would approach with a new gown, thin and form fitting. Each would be a piece of art, embroidered flowers trailing up the bodice, gold threaded needles. It was all astoundingly beautiful, but Y/N missed home. She missed her sisters and her brothers and her father and her mother. She missed the weight of a cloak over her shoulders, or the fur lined bedsheets that greeted her warmly each night.
@future-ll-evans requested: “What about a Targaryen!Reader and Robb Stark? Early ally? Dany sends her sister and Barristan (because he ain’t dead to me) secretly to gain the northern allies.”
Warnings: sexual content, mentions of pre-marital sex?Â
(Sorry for the wait! Summer vacation is quite hectic for me, and my update scedule is going to be patchy for the rest of July, but to tide you over, here’s a Robb Stark!)
—
You had quite a few nightmares as a child. Not about the Rebellion, no, you were too young to remember that, but other dangers from Esos stuck in your mind clearly, and served as fuel for some night terrors. Your brother Viserys’ cruel hand, an old beggar snarling at you when you’d reached for the coins he’d dropped, loud and raucous storms that seemed to shake your bed.
None of it compared to waking up knowing you had to leave your sister and set sail for Westeros, possibly to be killed or to never return.Â
You ate in silence, and met Ser Barristan down by the docks, accompanied by your sister, who’d come to see you off. You exchanged an embrace, she wished you safe travels and walked back to her palace discreetly.Â
You had to take a small fishing boat, to avoid suspicion from passing ships or employees at the docks. Your sister had sent ahead letters to respectable families, alerting them of your incoming arrival. You planned to sail to the Bite, and work your way North, they had seceded from the Crown, and could benefit from a strong alliance- regardless of what side they had taken in the Rebellion.Â
—
After meeting with Lysa Arryn, and traveling through the Neck, you arrived at Winterfell, hoping to convince the King of the North to bend the knee to your sister, or at least agree not to take up arms against her. From what you’d been told by other nobles, if Robb Stark agreed to an alliance, the other Northern houses would fall in line.Â
Ser Barristan at your side, you approached the gates of the great fortress, heavy snow pummeling your personage as a blizzard raged. A small brigade rushed to receive you, offering to help you down from your horse and tend to your luggage. You were quickly ushered inside and seated beside a fire, and a few minutes later, the King of the North arrived to greet you.Â
Concern was immediately apparent as you rose to meet him, and he insisted you remained by the fire, eyeing your bluing skin and silently wondering if you’d catch cold. “I apologize for the lack of preparation, we didn’t think you would brave the blizzard, and frankly, I’m not sure you should have.”
You laughed a little quietly, glad the feeling was returning to the tips of your fingers. “I suppose I underestimated just how severe the storm would be, I am not quite used to this Winter business, you Northerns must wear such heavy cloaks.” You griped, pawing at your blue cloak which seemed to disappear under a heavy wind.Â
He chuckled in return, taking a seat beside you on the fur throw. There was a beat of silence between you too as the conversation settled, until eventually, he spoke. “What is it like? Out East, I mean.”Â
You thought for a second. “I haven’t really been anywhere else, we left Westeros when I was small, and I don’t remember it well. But, it’s warm. I’ve seen a lot of the coast in our travels, and the water seems a little bluer there.” You gave a fond and homesick smile, watching the flames flicker in the hearth. “There’s a lot more sand.” You offered, a bit dismissively. You glanced over, examining his features fully for the first time, begrudgingly impressed by the strong cut of his jaw.Â
Robb pretended not to notice you staring, and thought on how to continue the conversation. “Your name, it’s Y/N, correct?”
You gave a nod, inwardly pleased that he hadn’t pronounced it incorrectly like other northerner’s had. Something about their accent made Valyrian sound… oddly forced rather than the smooth transition of syllables- as you’d been taught. “Would you prefer Robb, or Lord Stark?” You responded, not wishing to offend.Â
He thought for a moment. “Robb.” He said, with decision. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for Lord Stark.”Â
You smiled in return, and turned back to the fire.Â
—
Your quill touched the parchment lovingly as you penned your sister’s name, before dipping your quill back in the ink, ignoring the presence reading over your shoulder.Â
Daenerys,
Thus far, my travels have been pleasant. I’ve been received well at all the castles I’ve visited, and the nobles have been nothing short of polite, in particular-
His lips pressed a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder, as he brushed your hair back to better access the skin.Â
You attempted to ignore his teasing and continued to write.Â
-in particular, the Starks have been most gracious hosts and agreed to hold Ser Barristan and I a few more weeks until the weather settles. The winters this far North are brutal, I’ve never seen so much snow in my life! But, the castle is warm and-
He bit down quickly, before soothing the area with a brush of his tongue, continuing on a trail up your neck. “Take a break.” He murmured.Â
You attempted to brush him off again. “I have to finish this-”
His hand moved to the straps of your slip, slowly removing the left and then the right and taking your exposed breasts in his hands. “She can wait a few minutes.”
You dropped the quill and began to move from the chair, when he swept you off your feet and tossed you onto the bed, a wolfish grin on his face. It seemed as though he’d been only a hair away from ravaging you anyways, and was simply waiting for you to deliver yourself to him.Â
—
Daenerys had been particularly surprised to hear of your courtship, and more so, your plan to wed, but supported you none the less. Strategically, the move was perfect, and if he truly made you happy, there was no downside. She urged you to elope privately, for her presence was still not fully welcome in Westeros, and her army built slowly as she conquered more and more slaving cities, but supported your wishes to marry as soon as you could.Â
As her ascension picked up steam, the Lannisters made moves to counter her, unknowing that the seeds of her revolt had already been planted in Westeros, and that the North already planned to rally behind her when the time came.Â
The war was brewing, but in your marital bed, your alliances grew only stronger.Â
@legendsaresooftenwarnings requested: “What if Ramsay has a legitimate sister that Roose is trying to marry off to a younger son, and Ramsay just keeps killing them?”
Warnings; (half) sibling incest, graphic description of violence, smut, sexual language, Ramsay Bolton?
You glanced out over your shoulder, barely peering around the corner as Ramsay’s hands began to trail up your skirt. You could feel his lips trailing up your neck, his nose dragging across your pulse point as he left wet kisses and quick bites along the sensitive flesh. “Careful,” you warned rather softly under your breath, “this isn’t a good spot for-” as you made a move to push off the wall, Ramsay pushed you back into place with quickness, a growl sounding in his lower throat, guttural.Â
“I’ll kill him. I’ll cut his heart out of his body and feed it to him on a silver platter, I’ll-” his voice was muffled by your skin, but it didn’t much matter. The words had their intended effect, and you were soon shivering in his arms.Â
andtheytoldustotellyouhello 