#It's hard being a sibling to a sudden court-assigned child

[101-sve]

Fledglings

Snapshots, 1984-1987

[ffxvficrec]

GladNoct Big Bang Round Up

General Rating

You can also check out the collection here:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GladnoctBB2021/works

We’ve listed the archive warnings and ratings, but please remember to mind the tags!

I'll Catch You by kickcows

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Mature Rating

Noctis Caelum, the famous movie actor, has been injured due to a bad car accident, and the one to help on the road to recovery is a physical therapist by the name of Gladio Amicitia.

Sands of Destiny by countingpaperstars

No Archive Warnings Apply

Explicit Rating

After leading an attack on the holy city of Insomnia, Prince Gladio, adopted son of Tenebrae's queen, acquires a dagger that gives the one who holds it access to the Sands of Time. Gladio ends up on the run with Insomnian Prince Noctis after being accused of killing Queen Sylva. They must learn to trust each other in order to protect the ancient treasure from dark forces and unmask his mother's assassin, or fall into ruin along with the fate of their world.

The Deep Dive by Noctislucent (Baekhanded)

No Archive Warnings Apply

Teen Rating

Gladio is a researcher, a historian 'obsessed' with finding the lost city of Altissia. He sets off on the journey of a lifetime to find the city with a team unmatched by any.

He finds so much more than he bargained for

chasing honey by ignisgayentia

No Archive Warnings Apply

Explicit

After an assassin threatens Prince Noctis’s life just before his journey to Altissia to deliver an important address, King Regis hires outside protection, the trusted Amicitia Guard, to escort Noctis to Altissia alone. When Noctis first meets his assigned guard, Gladiolus Amicitia, tensions between them are high, but along their journey, things slowly start to change. After dealing with attempts on their life, daemons, a broken down car, and crappy hotel rooms, they learn more about each other and their destinies than they ever expected to. How will Noctis deal with the conflicting feelings he has for his bodyguard?

Thy Kiss Art Broken Glass on Mine Lips by BumuBokkusu

No Archive Warnings Apply

General Rating

A Greek Gods/Mythology AU where Regis is lamenting to the gods over his people who are sick and dying from the mysterious Starscourge disease that is plaguing the kingdom. The gods hear the King's plea and offer him a bargain. Because they want to test this King’s heart, they offer him a deal: they will heal his people of the scourge if he sacrifices his only son. After much consideration and heartbreak, Regis decides to give up his own son for the sake of his people. The gods place a curse upon Noctis, one that will last throughout the rest of his life. It is a curse that slowly turns the boy into cold, crystalline, shimmering glass until the day he becomes completely petrified - a melancholy statue. Gladiolus, a farmhand that has fallen in love with Noctis, embarks on a quest to rid the prince of his cruel fate, even if it means denying the gods themselves.

Highway Tune by EzraTheBlue

No Archive Warnings Apply

Explicit Rating

Gladiolus Amicitia lives a quiet, unassuming life as a long haul truck driver, when he picks up a quiet, sullen young man hitchhiking along the highway. Gladio soon realizes that his passenger is hiding a few secrets: primarily, that he’s Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, run away from home on the eve of his father overseeing the signing of a peace treaty that will end a fifty-year war. Secondarily: he’s being chased by an assassin who wants him dead for reasons unknown, but he’s unrelenting and his grudge is very, very personal. Gladio can’t ignore someone in trouble and agrees to get Noctis back to Insomnia safely, even though Noctis’ attitude and their pursuer won’t make things easy. The road home is treacherous - will Gladio and Noctis make it safely, or will their assailant prove an insurmountable roadblock? Or… will their own conflicted emotions get in the way?

Caught in a Storm by Mangoesaregood8

No Archive Warnings Apply

Explicit Rating

An early morning training session is interrupted by a sudden incoming storm. With the battery dead in the Regalia, Gladio and Noctis are forced to weather out the storm in the cave. However Noctis got soaked, so Gladio devises a few creative ideas to help the prince keep warm as they wait to be rescued.

Vide Cor Meum by HeartlessAngel

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Mature Rating

M.E. 744: a terrorist faction opens the West Gate, overriding security protocols overseen by the Crown’s Shield and Captain of the Crownsguard, Clarus Amicitia. Hundreds of Galahdian refugees pour into Insomnia, much aware that they will not be received with open arms. They are helped into unmarked vans and cars to be driven and released into anonymity in the slums in a coordinated mission orchestrated by the terrorist faction’s leader: Izdihar Abadi, wife of Clarus Amicitia, Gladio and Iris’ mother.

Far from everyone manage to escape into the night. The Crownsguard arrives with haste to neutralize the threat and close the West Gate. It’s a massacre that would have gone unrecorded had Gladiolus Amicitia not been found beside his mother’s body, clutching the Master Key to the Wall’s Gates.

Clarus rushes Gladio to the Citadel where he makes a covenant with Crown Prince Noctis, five years overdue, to assure the Amicitias’ place in the Lucian Court. And so begins Gladio’s life as the Shield of the future King, shrouded in suspicion, hurt, and unattainable wants.

Besmirched by hesp

No Archive Warnings Apply

Teen Rating

The stories say that it was once wielded by a king of old to turn the tide of a great battle. That it could fell dragons with a single sweep of its blade that shone like daybreak. That it could rally the hearts of men, even when all hope had been lost. While the name of the king and the place of the battle have been forgotten, the storied Sword of Light is the last hope of Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir apparent to the crown of Insomnia. With few clues and less time, he is smuggled out of his childhood home as a centuries-old plot descends upon the city. Outside of its protective walls, Noctis meets Gladiolus, a man whom fate had tied to Noctis long before their paths crossed in the wilds of Lucis. The two agree to journey together in search of an object that may not exist on a quest that may be doomed in hopes of restoring that which may be lost forever.

Working apart but in tandem, Ignis Scientia, trusted adviser and friend of Noctis, remains in Insomnia to search for clues about the Sword of Light and ways to aid Noctis in his quest. Ignis is joined by Prompto Argentum, a commoner and unlikely friend of Noctis, whose own abilities may be the difference in attaining their impossible goal.

Gravity by HardNoctLife

No Archive Warnings Apply

Explicit Rating

Noctis Lucis Caelum is celebrity royalty with a secret, Insomnia's Prince of Pop-Rock searching for love in all the wrong places.

Gladio Amicitia is a wayward son, returning to Insomnia after wandering the Lucian countryside for five years, looking for a steady income and a good time.

When their worlds collide after a one-night-stand, it sets them up to learn the hard way that it's okay to fall for someone you can't have—so long as you don't hit the ground.

The Curse of Eternal Sleep by The_PrincessCat

No Archive Warnings Apply

General Rating

When the child of King Regis and Queen Aulea Lucis Caelum is born, a grand Unveiling Celebration is held and all of the kingdom is invited. Everyone is present, except for Ardyn the Sorcerer. The Three fairy siblings Nyx, Libertus and Crowe bestow gifts upon the young infant. However, after both Crowe and Libertus grant their gifts, a puff of ruddy smoke appears in the center of the celebration and Ardyn appears in the midst.

He curses young Noctis to prick his thumb on the end of a fishing lure on his 18th birthday and die. All this because they refused to invite him to their party. In a self satisfied gesture, Ardyn disappears the way he came.

King Regis hides away his son, unwilling to let his only son face this fate. During the years that lead up to Noctis's eighteenth birthday, Noctis begins to fall in love with a boy from another kingdom. Unbeknownst to them both, it is both Noctis's downfall and tragedy.

When Noctis fall into his thousand years slumber, Gladiolus Amicitia springs into action to journey to the end of Eos and will fight a dragon for True Loves First Kiss.

Bloom by Crazyloststar

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Mature Rating

Ancient texts suggest the Shields of Kings were so devoted to their charge, they sprouted flowers from their very skin. Over time something changed; the power of the crystal, their devotion, or something else unknown. This idea became stories told to elevate the dedication of those who took up the position of Shield to the royal family.

Either way, the Shields of today now honor their ancestors and their duty by covering their bodies with flowers permanently with ink.

But the stories of old are more than fairy tales.

A Silver Compass by katerleegrand

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

No Archive Warnings Apply

Noctis is alone, simple as that. No one to turn to. No one to call a friend. High school has been rough for him already, and most days he wishes he could just disappear off the face of the planet.

But when a new student joins Noctis's class, he manages to change Noctis's life around completely. All Noctis has to do is give him a chance.

[fundielicious-simblr]

💕 Love Day Love Story Series 💕

Francisco & Zoe

How did you meet?

[F] “I grew up in a conservative, military household with my father enlisting before he married my mother, so my brother and I were born into the lifestyle. Because we moved every few years, it was easier for my mother to homeschool us so that our education wasn’t disturbed by the constant change in schooling systems and curriculums. Both of my parents are people of faith, so wherever we moved we’d always find a church to go to that was in line with our beliefs, and my mother made it a point for our homeschooling curriculum to be religious based rather than secular based so that we got the best education possible. When I was in highschool we moved to Strangerville permanently for my father’s work, he was promoted and therefore would be working at headquarters with other high ranking officers - this made it easier for me to make up my mind on whether I wanted to enlist because I’d been going to summer camp style trainings in Strangerville that helped me realise my want to serve, so I enlisted right out of highschool. After bootcamp, my first orders were in Strangerville so I was able to live at home with my parents for the first few years and when it came time for re-enlistment, I ended up getting deployed out to a base that sits just outside Newcrest for a short assignment. Once I’d found a place to stay in Newcrest (my rank meant I could live off base) I set about finding a church to attend. I'd heard great things from Newcrest Baptist from others in previous churches we attended so I thought I’d give it a go. That first service when the choir was singing, the lead singer caught my eye - my mother had started to badger me about starting to settle down “while I was still young” so I guess the thought was constantly lingering in the back of my head. After the service is when I learnt that Zoe was the lead singer for the service, she came up to me and introduced herself along with some of her cousins after she heard I was new to the area and didn’t know anybody. They essentially formed a welcoming committee and spent their time making sure that every day off I had was full of fellowship and fun; This also helped me to get to know Zoe more, she was slightly older than some of the other girls there and I admired her personality - I eventually realised that I wanted to take the relationship further than friendship, but first I wanted her to meet my family. 

That chance came when her cousin Brittany had this fundraiser event in Windenburg, we found out that we had friends in common in the Dahlmanns - my father was friendly with Warren and supported his campaign whenever he could, and Zoe’s cousin was dating Colton (they even got engaged that same night) The fundraiser was great because our families got to meet one another and get to know each other, my parents loved Zoe and encouraged me to pursue a courtship and thankfully I was able to ask her dad if Zoe and I could start a courtship once we got back, which he agreed to. A couple of months into our courtship we found out that I was being reassigned to a post out in the desert near Oasis Springs, and I knew that I didn’t want to leave without Zoe by my side as it would be so hard to meet whilst I was away - so I asked her father if I could propose which he agreed to. I’d heard about this new botanical gardens that had opened up in Willowcreek, and I needed to head there to fix some of my paperwork and after seeing pictures I thought it would be the perfect place to propose, so asked Zoe if she wanted to come with me on the premise of me getting paperwork done while I was there. Macie came as our chaperone, and I dropped them off at her sister Adalynn’s house whilst I set things up at the gardens, and get my paperwork done. The proposal went off without a hitch, because I suggested a picnic at the gardens, she didn’t think it weird that we went there and Macie’s job (other than chaperoning) was telling us to pose for a picture together so I could get in position to propose. Zoe was a flurry in planning the wedding, the whole ride home from Willowcreek she and Macie had already began planning, I couldn’t help with the planning much due to work stuff so she was a powerhouse in getting things done in such a short time as we wanted to be married before I had to move.”

[Z] “I grew up the 4th child of 13, so I had a lot of responsibility as I grew up. My parents named me after my grandmother, and I always try and be loving and kind in the way that she was by always trying to do something to make someone elses life easier. As kids my parents made sure we all learnt how to play an instrument, so I learnt piano and guitar but singing is what I found to be the most fun for me. Over the years we’d travel to Family Bible Camp or political rallies and I loved getting to sing with a group, eventually I joined the choir at church and progressed to the lead singer. Everyone at home used to tease me for singing all the time, my buddy group had Reece, Beckett, and Amira in it and when I’d do their school with them I would help them make up songs to as we worked through their textbooks, so our corner of the ‘school room’ was always filled with song. As I got older I started working more on writing music, but as my older siblings got married and chores got redistributed I had to reorganise my priorities, but thankfully I was still able to work on my music.

I first saw Francisco when he visited our church for the first time, I was singing with the choir and had led the singing for a few songs, so he noticed me before I noticed him. After the service I was hearing all this flurry from the girls at church about how this new military guy was attending with us now, and how handsome he was and all the other things that come with a man in uniform [laughs] In my mind, all I was thinking of was how he was new to the area and knew nobody, so I wrangled together some of my cousins and we made sure to make him feel welcome. Over time as we hung out, I realised why all the girls had their feathers ruffled, but since I was older than a few of the girls there I assumed I wouldn't be the target audience of his attentions should it come to that. My mother always said that us girls should pray for our future husband and have certain qualities in mind that we wanted for a partner, but in that moment I wasn’t thinking about my list - or else I’d have realised that he ticked loads of boxes for me. I made it a point to keep my feelings to myself because I didn’t want to jeopardise our friendship, especially because he wasn’t going to be with us in Newcrest for a long time. Because his schedule was unpredictable at times, most times it was me and like 2 other people spending time with Francisco, which gave us a chance to get to know each other more, and eventually he did bring up talk of the future with me and at that point I told him that I would be happy to (inside I was shrieking) but he’d have to ask my dad. I guess our families meeting at my cousin’s charity benefit helped move things along because when we got back we made things official. A few months after we started courting, Francisco got news that he was being reassigned soon and in my head I’m thinking about how we were going to do long distance for however long before we got married, and when he proposed I truly had no idea that it was coming. He’d asked me if I wanted to come with him to Willowcreek because he had paperwork to do there, he suggested we have a picnic at this new botanical garden that had opened up there and I was all for it since we were trying to spend as much time as possible together. He was so gracious and even dropped Macie and I off at Adalynn’s house to spend some time with her and the boys whilst he fixed his paperwork and set up the picnic for us. When we got to the gardens, everything was so beautiful and we had such a great time, and when Macie told us that she’d take some pictures of us I thought nothing of it and started posing for a picture when all of a sudden Francisco is down on one knee and I’m in tears [laughs] The whole ride home was me calling my mother and making plans for what I wanted for the wedding along with macie on speakerphone, and even though it was a rush the wedding turned out great.”

How have you changed since marriage?

[F] “Our marriage started off with us moving into the desert, and I’m thankful that Zoe is so adaptable because these next few years are going to come with a few changes. Probably the biggest change coming up for us is our son who should be joining us soon, we’ve been rushing to get things done before he gets here. Unfortunately for me, soon after his due date I’ve got a training exercise out in the desert that will take me away for some time, so I’m thankful that Zoe’s sister Macie will come down to stay with her whilst I’m away. My parents also live a few hours drive away in Strangerville, so I’m sure my mother will be able to come down for support whilst I’m away as well.”

[Z] “One thing my sisters and cousins said after getting married is how quiet everything is when you’re in your new house, and I truly get it. Having to only cook and care for 2 (soon to be 3) people rather than working as a team in a house of 15 people was a bit jarring [laughs], and Francisco makes it so easy because he makes his own breakfast as he’s up at dawn! Going from the country where there’s loads of green to the desert where there’s nothing but hot sand was quite a change, but I wouldn’t exchange it for the world. Now that I’m in the final stages of my pregnancy where the only thing we’re left waiting for is baby , I’m excited for this new change and for baby boy to be here already. I’m still making my music, but obviously my priorities are going to be looking a little different for the coming future, and I’m okay with that.”

[ironforgedrp]

♛   VICKON II GREYJOY

↳ details; 32 (b. 473AC), male ↳ status; bisexual, widowed, no children ↳ faceclaim; ricky whittle ↳ hails from; pyke, the iron isles ↳ loyalty; house greyjoy, the iron throne.

↳ title; lord reaper of pyke, ruling lord of the iron isles ↳ religion; the drowned god ↳ spoken languages; common tongue ↳ reason for being in sunspear; the summit

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type; executive ESTJ-A ↳ alignment; chaotic neutral ↳ star sign; scorpio ↳ positives; resilient, self-sufficient, versatile, cautiously open minded, loyal, tenacious, devout ↳ negatives; wounded, romantically-emotionally stunted, tentatively paranoid, can overly ambitious and also stern

♛  BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

his father, balon greyjoy had married his mother when they were barely into man and womanhood. her name was uthora goodbrother and was the middle-born daughter of house goodbrother, with dark auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes she had caught the heir of pyke’s attention during a celebration her house attended at his home. after a short courting period, and the elated enthusiasm from balon’s own father at the match, they wed when the young lady uthora was seventeen. sweethearts didn’t really describe their relationship, as there was nothing sweet about it: it was fire and passion and adventure, adrenalin hunting, risk taking and enjoying their youth as any ironborn would. of course that did slow down when, after two years they found themselves expecting their first child together. it would go on to be a boy, who uthora insisted on naming vickon after the first elected lord to ever rule the iron isles. such a name would come with a burden of expectations, but both balon and uthora intended on fostering a fierce child in their heir, and any children to come.

there was another child after the dark haired, brown-eyed vickon was born. a few years later, a girl would join the growing family, bringing the song of children’s laugher and riot into the salty walls of pyke. trained hard from their childhood, both the two children of balon and uthora spent half their time on land and the other half either on or in the sea. balon inserted lessons in military strategy and captainship, insisting his heirs work every position on the decks of a ship from deckhand to helmsman to pot wash. uthora also took it upon herself to raise her daughter as she had been raised; strong, smart, wise and a capable ironborn. they had no imminent plans for more children right away, as they were still young parents and that might have been the reason why the sudden passing of uthora was so hard on balon and the two children. she had, unexpectedly, found herself with child far too quickly for both hers and balon’s liking. they wanted to ensure they could raise vickon and his sister right, they could handle the iron islands like the true rulers they needed to be and after a long discussing and many tears they summoned a maester and a moon tea was brewed. though she was only weeks into her third pregnancy, and there was no reason to expect any problems, over the night that came the lady uthora succumbed to complications that young vickon never learned of and she never saw the sunlight or smelled the sea again. mourning was hard, seeing his younger sister cry and beg the drowned god for their mama to come back, it broke vickons heart. in fact, for months afterwards, his little sister would climb into bed with him in a state of quiet sorrow.

when his father remarried a dornish woman, vickon found himself in a strange situation. he wanted his father to be happy, and he seemed to be, but he resented any woman who would wear his late mother’s title of ruling lady of house greyjoy.   old enough to remember his mothers laughter, the shine of her hair, the kindness of her eyes… vickon knew he would never warm to the lady myria, but he promised he would never allow his personal feelings to hurt his fathers happiness. it seemed too soon that children, his half siblings, began to join their family and vickon felt all the more out of place. he was older, and he could not bond in a paternal way with her. if anything, he viewed lady myria greyjoy as not his new mother but as his over-lady and he respected her for that reason. she also seemed to bring lightness back to his fathers heart so he could not bring himself to make waves within pyke. instead of bonding with the new blended family he pushed himself out to sea on the iron fleet.

young and eager and harder than the rock of the iron isles, vickon was deemed a quiet fire; jokes and jests were made about his similarity to his namesake who was apparently stern-faced as well. he found himself in plenty of fights, plenty of games of dice and card and chance, and he worked until his hands were hard with callouses and his clothes were crusty with dried seasalt. vickon, he soon realized, was born for hard work and challenge which continued to please his father greatly as his son stayed on track to be a captain in the iron isles’ fleet. a few years on vickon was to choose a bride, and he deferred to his father over a private meal and ale about who this should be. they scrutinised over the eligible ladies of the iron isles, and who would be the most ideal partner and lady reaper of pyke when vickon would inherit the seat, for he would marry no one else than an ironborn woman. vickon often thought that he was arguably one of the most devout followers of the drowned god of all his siblings, he prayed often and fervently. thanking the drowned god for the good, praying for bad to end quickly, praying that his lady mother was enjoying her seat in the drowned gods watery halls, approving of her only sons achievements. settling on house kenning of harlaw isle, with the blazon of the storm god (the drowned gods enemy of over a thousand thousand years), was an unlikely choice in the eyes of many. however, the lady naoka kenning caught his eye quickly and soon conversation revealed how similar they were. she matched him in intelligence, in quick wit and jokes, in the cracking of her tongue like a whip when she commanded her accompanying house kenning guardsmen to stop making drunken fools of themselves. born less than a year apart in age, now capable captain and heir to pyke, lord vickon ii greyjoy and lady naoka of house kenning were married in the year 492AC.

as a wedding gift, balon and lady myria gifted vickon and his new bride the galleon ship the storms howl, one that had pride of place in the iron fleets arrangement. though vickon had spent most of his time upon the iron fleets’ principle ship, a man-o-war vessel sea death, the storms howl served as a temporary home as the newlyweds spent their time on the seas, travelling with a youthful hunger. the early years were good, and would have continued to be fruitful if not for a freak, sudden accident that stole another woman from the vickons heart. down the gangway of the storms howl, they had returned from visiting naoka’s family upon harlaw isle, they and their crew were enjoying the end of their voyage. no one properly saw how she lost her footing, but a small yelp of surprise followed by a body-loud thump and vickon shoved his way through the crew members to find his young wife lifeless and limp with no breath in her body. there was no blood and no pain when she slipped on the salty, slicked wood of the pier… but she was gone from the world, from his world, in the blink of an eye. widowed far too young, damaged and angry at innocent losses of his personal life, he pushed himself instead into the career of a captain with eyes on a prize beyond the iron isles. the drowned god had set vickon adrift alone in turbulent seas, but he was determined to not flounder or sink as he reached out to the red keep of the crownlands, to the office of the heir to the iron throne, prince baelor targaryen.

over the space of a year the two corresponded formally as vickon expressed his desire to represent house targaryen as the master of ships on prince baelor’s council when he would assume the throne in the years to come, and they settled on an agreement. lord vickon would sail to the red keep and meet with the prince face to face, present his reasoning why he was the superior choice for a master of ships. of course vickon knew that there was no other who could rival the ferocity of the iron fleet, and his ability to captain galleons, sloops, man-o-wars and all in between gave him a versatility hard to rival. the meeting went well, and after discovering much in common and enjoying some healthy debates about their respective gods and beliefs and personal opinions, they  found a mutual respect and a budding friendship that continued on when he returned to the seas and back to the iron isles. he had spent much time then on assignments from his father, on training up his crew and exploring, escaping his grief as best he could. at his fathers request he took on his half-siblings into his crew, where there were no free passes nor easy ways out for the children of the lord reaper and he commanded them as he did the rest of his crew.

vickon never did re-marry; instead taking the occasional salt wife or lover. he knew he had a position on the small council of westeros in his near future, alongside a man he was proud to call friend and future king and he would pass his seat to a sibling as castellan if their father would pass in that time, he had a plan with which he had spent much time working over. though it was not his father who passed in the years that came —  in the sept of ashar where the sept of baelor once stood, a strange irony upon them all as they bid their final farewells to the king who never was, baelor the third, who had suddenly been pulled from the world to join the halls of the drowned god. of course vickon knew that baelor was a follower of the seven, as most of westeros did, but vickon liked to imagine him alongside the mighty drowned god and the finest warriors and members of the world alongside him, perhaps his friend may meet lady uthora greyjoy. the sadness was felt across the lands, but none more-so than it that sept of the seven where the closest of the prince gathered privately and grieved in the painful, sorrowful echoes of the barely filled sept. he lingered in kings landing for a time alongside king maegor and princess rhaena: baelor had often spoken of his sister in letters, and part of him felt compelled to ensure that his friends kin was going to endure, however painful. no one seemed to understand what had happened to baelor or how his last moments were spent… but it appeared clear that it was not pleasant. it was on his return home, his future plans gone with his friends final breath, that his paths crossed with a woman who would change his life for the first time in many years.

protecting those weaker than him was something vickon felt to his core and thus began their relationship.  a lost soul saved by the drowned god and delivered to safety on the decks of the storms howl by pure chance and misfortune, though stripped of her apparent memories she seemed filled with the will to live and that spurred him to action. she would go on to thrive, recovering from whatever had befallen her, and he would go on to tentatively open his heart as much as he was able to as he returned with his new salt wife to the shores of his home. within the year however, his father succumbed to the afterlife and the title, the salt throne was passed to vickon ii, lord reaper of pyke. beginning his rule not years removed from his friends death and the change in leadership, the new heir of westeros becoming baelor’s younger sister and the certainty of him having a position on the council now in question, he decided it best to stay as ruler of his lands rather than leave the ironborn without their true leader. he already knew he was content in being loyal to house targaryen: the members of the red keep had all treated him well, they were all sound and intelligent of mind, with admirable and well thought-out policies and plans for the world. far removed from the red keep, with no interest in taking over the throne, he didn’t keep closely informed on the process that king maegor had organized for his only remaining child to find a suitor and when the raven arrived from kings landing penned in a scrawl it seemed from baelors younger sister who warned him that something had gone terribly wrong and the targaryen reign would be coming to an sharp end. never in his wildest dreams did he imagine what was to come: the first lannister reign in over two centuries and baelors little sister, the fierce little dragon prince rhaena had been (it appeared to vickon) forced to surrender her title to the son of lord tristifer lannnister.

vickon knew very little of the lannister children: there were two sons and one was a tenacious land commander, but that was all he knew. his late father, however, had never spoken a kind word about the grey lion of the west. he often spoke ill of any other house, degrading all other gods, cultures, mocking the ironborn and once coming to physical blows in their past. balon had hated lord tristifer lannister, and vickon was immediately suspicious and enraged at the concept that the son of such a true cunt could have stolen or bullied the throne into his own hands. however, after hearing some positive things about the new lannister king and after meeting him at the wedding of the lannister and princess rhaena he found himself less wary. not fully in support, but not in direct fear. it seemed the son of tristifer, arryk was his name, did not take after his father in the traits balon had condemned and disparaged. vickon also hoped that rhaena would reach out to house greyjoy for an ally or support if the new king revealed himself a tyrant.

returning to pyke and correspond from a distance, vickon sent his sister to represent house greyjoy at the celebration of the young prince’s birth and focussed on advancing and perfecting the iron fleet and quashing any whispers of rebellion within his waters. still flanked, oddly happily, by the woman he had rescued nearly three years prior, vickon was only moved to leave pyke with the political summit on the horizon after the schism fractured the kingdom, watching pyke shrink in the horison he knew it was time to reveal himself in the public eye as the lord reaper of the iron isles and make the true ferocity and power of the ironborn voice heard.

↳ personality.

he was already stunted by the loss of his mother at such a young age, and the secondhand experience of his sisters sadness as well. he shouldn’t have but he did carry that in his heart and this was increased when naoka suddenly died. vickons faith has always kept him strong in ways he doesn’t understand, but he takes great comfort in knowing that the drowned god would have welcomed his mother, his young wife, his father and friend into his watery halls and given them the life that was stolen. taking a salt wife has allowed him in recent years to soften himself, but his guarded heart has long been a part of him that he will not erase again. vickon is, despite his slight detachment from his half siblings and really any reminder of his lost mother, ultimately a protector and this bond is only extended to people who have truly earned it.

↳ the splitting of the kingdoms.

honestly the schism somewhat caught him by surprise, due to the amount of kingdoms who decided to revolt individually instead of collectively. he thinks some have just reason to be in such a rage, but some he thinks are acting like irrational fools begging to be quashed.

♛  STATUS; TAKEN

[robbmywolf]

Wolf on a Leash

Part Two to this Part One!

OMG I got such positive feedback from the first part! I DID NOT EXPECT THIS. You guys spoil me tbh, thank you for all your kindness and support xxx

Summary: The feuding continues. Robb and Y/n manage not to get along even worse than they did before, but Ned’s resolve prevails. Starks are stubborn and breaking their will is near impossible. 

Tags: THE FIRST OF THE HATE FLIRTING, s l o w b u r n, humor duh, AnGsT aLeRt, Stark family feels, unresolved jealous feelings

Tagged Lovelies: @im-smad, @salliebley, @reader-fics, @a-girl-who-loves-disney (lemme know if you want to be tagged xx) 

{okay woah btw this is a LOT longer than the first part hehe sorry}

Chapter 2

“He’s mine to hate and hurt and do with as I please, no one else’s,” You hear yourself hissing at Lady Evangeline, shoving your face forward and closing in on her personal space despite the frantic beating of her delicate fan to keep you at bay. 

Her intimidated expression of growing fear (of you, you realize with a twisted satisfaction) is not what pulls you from your sudden flash of gripping fury. 

It’s actually the silence beside you that shakes you free of it. Robb is silent. That never happens, Robb always has something to say in retaliation to literally any words that leave your mouth whether they pertain to him or not. You pull your face back only enough to swing your blazing gaze on Robb, whose expression holds the shape of an emotion you haven’t seen on him before. 

Earlier that Month -- The morning after your first night chained together

You wake yourself by accidentally biting your tongue.

You’re shivering so harshly on the floor beside Robb’s bed you worry for second when you can’t move your toes. Grey Wind is still beside you, a life-line of warmth, a furnace that you find yourself clutched around as much as possible. Your nose is pressed into the thick winter coat at his neck trying to hide your face from the merciless nipping cold patiently numbing bit by bit of your flesh. 

How you managed to get any semblance of rest in your current conditions simply boggles your freshly woken mind, your thoughts slushing around disoriented in your mind before you remember the catastrophic events of yesterday. Your eyes fly open and whip to land on your shackled wrist wrenched hanging at an unnatural position. 

Your stomach drops and for a moment you think you’re going to be sick when you realize why you are on the floor and who is in the bed above you. Instead of vomiting you tug on Robb’s hand gently so not to wake him, and pull your own hand down to your body. He gives no resistance still asleep and quite -- surprisingly -- pliant. His big hand falls over the edge of the bed and quickly you squirm your shackled hand under Grey Wind’s belly as he lays on it, hoping to regain feeling in the appendage that’s frozen solid. The wolf jumps mildly at the sharp sting of cold but only gives a snort before settling again, fully awake but happy to rest beside you. When your hand still feels like a block ice carved straight from the Great Wall after a full five minutes, you huff sleepily and try to think of other ways to warm yourself up. 

All without waking Robb, of course. 

You want some peace and time to yourself, your face naked of the mask you always put on when he looks upon you. Basking in this relief you are careful not to disturb his own shackled wrist too much and mute the little clinks of metal as best as you can. 

Finally you settle in a position that has you facing the bed, shivering escalating by the second, Robb’s limp hand hanging only a foot from your face that’s going numb like the rest of your body. The hand is pink with fresh warmth from being under the many layers of Robb’s bedding, fingers long and palm wide and welcoming. The texture of his sword-callouses are revealed through curious strips of light tiptoeing down from the windows. You would have reached out to touch it, maybe hold on to it to steal some of its heat, but you honestly couldn’t feel your hand so the appendage stayed unthawed at your side.

Grey Wind gives a small whine of concern as he noses at your neck, the wet cold of it making you flinch, as the wolf takes note of your unhealthy condition. Robb stirs and gives a sleepy huff. You hold still hoping he doesn’t wake just yet. Despite you being about to black out from the cold stealing feeling from every part of your body, you desired the alone time more. 

You never did have a knack for self preservation. 

An old fear-warped memory of lying in a similar cradle of chill and ice wipes across the backs of your eyes you didn’t remember closing. A white forest canopy blinds you as you lay in the snow feeling your body descending into stages of a slow death. You felt your body sinking deeper and deeper into the glacial embrace of the earth around you accepting your body into its depths. 

Robb wakes suddenly, yanked into consciousness from the bowels of sleep like a fish on a line. He groans and shuts his eyes against the unforgiving winter morning light pouring through the barely curtained windows. There’s a slight chattering noise that comes into his notice  -- teeth clanking together -- and Grey Wind is whining loudly. 

“Hush now,” Robb gravels grumpily in his sleep-strained voice at Grey Wind as he makes to turn over, but is stopped at a sharp pull on his left wrist. “What the --,”

Robb whips bleary-eyed around at the feel of rude metal clutching at his wrist. He goes into momentary panic then settles when he remembers yesterday but then panics again when he spots you on the floor. Your skin is that same grey-blue and an eerie sense of deja-vu smacks him across the face and leaves his chest feeling hollow and rickety. 

Grey Wind is giving him a threatening wolf glare. 

“Gods!” Robb exclaims under his breath as he entangles his legs from the nest of warmth on the bed and hauls you up. You’re dead weight, head lolling and eyes sealed shut. 

Robb’s concern spikes considerably at this as he wrenches you up to the bed and hastily tucks you under the blankets, and comforters, and furs. Gods he left you one fur to sleep under. A potent self-disgust boils and gurgles in Robb’s gut as he continues frantically trying to warm you up. 

You had stopped shivering. That wasn’t good. 

Ice sickness was common in the North; you shiver, then start to lose feeling in your extremeties, then it creeps to claim more and more of you until you lose conciousness, then you stop shivering, then you....

Robb refused to even think the last step. With mounting panic he unwraps you quickly and strips you of your clothing. He doesn’t even feel guilt at seeing your naked body without your permission because this is life and de -- no. He will not even think it. Once your body is fully exposed he fiercely strips himself of his own clothes and unreservedly clutches you to him in a desperate attempt to lend you his heat knowing this is the most efficient way to regulate your body temperature. Your skin is nothing short of ice, freezing to touch and almost just as hard. Hoisting you up bridal style, he snags as many furs and quilts he can get his hands on and waddles over to the low burning fireplace in his room. Robb quickly revives the flames, coaxing them to roar tall and hot, and holds you against him while wrapping the both of you in the bedding before the licking heat of the new fire. 

Robb shakes despite the fact that he’s sweating as your heavy head rests back against his collarbone, your back to his front, body limp between his legs and still impossibly cold. It is almost like your skin is refusing his warmth. 

“Just take it! Stop being so stubborn and just fucking take it!” Robb demands of you as his fears take turns stabbing at the muscle of his heart. 

He begins to rock your bodies back and forth in a subconscious effort to calm himself. His full fledged panic blocks any and all intimate thoughts that would have run through Robb’s brain any other time he might of had a woman naked between his legs and pressed flush to his chest. 

But this is Y/n and she’s dy--

Grey Wind interrupts Robb’s train of thought by curling up to both of their forms and licking warm stripes up Robb’s cheeks. It takes the young Stark a second to realize he is, in fact, crying. 

Robb assigns the reasons behind this to the crazed delirium of being thrown into panic and trauma directly from sleep. Because without a doubt he still despises Y/n even as he clutches her closer to him, the full passion of his hatred still so tangible and easily accessed even now. He shoos Grey Wind away from his face, wiping the snot and tears on his shoulder so he won’t have to sniffle like a sobbing child, and regains a shred of his composure. 

Y/n twitches promisingly in his arms and he feels her chest heave a big refreshing sigh, restarting her system. 

She will be fine.

His skin tingles like hot coals where it touches her’s and he can’t tell if the force between them is shoving them apart or yanking them closer together. This battle keeps him where he is.

When you eventually wake Robb gets a marvelous deck to the face the second you muster enough strength to swing the weight of your arm. 

He doesn’t ever tell you this, but you bruised his jaw so badly it hurt to talk and eat and breathe for weeks.

Ned refused to unchain you.

Robb sleeps willingly on the floor of your chambers now.

Middle of the Month - a week or so after that first morning

It’s not often Winterfell hosts guests in the middle of winter. But House Cerwyn has come to stay at Winterfell for a seemingly innocent visit. The party came through the recently shoveled court yard on a gentler winter morning. Ned received the head of the family Cley Cerwyn with loud, proud Northern words of greeting and jovial claps on the back. 

The point of this visit baffled the Stark siblings while Ned and Catelyn seemed almost eager, giddy to host the Cerwyns. It didn’t take long to work out the hidden intention though. The day after the Cerwyns’ arrival, introductions were made as the Stark family officially received them in the large banquet hall. 

Catelyn had put up quite a fuss about you being chained to Robb for the introductions but Ned kept steady to his word and left the two of you shackled. When Ned offered the visitors an explanation as to why his eldest son was chained to you, Cley had burst out laughing followed by companionable chuckles from the rest of the family. 

Catelyn was still bitter but didn’t bring the issue up again until later that week. 

Robb and you were currently walking across the snowy cart yard heading towards the stables. One of your favorite mares is giving birth and you wanted to watch or maybe help deliver the foal if Robb would be willing (which he wasn’t when you originally asked to attend such an event). But after much arguing, some haughty threats, and a quick fist fight, you convinced him to at least let you observe. 

Lady Evangeline Cerwyn strolls arm in arm with Sansa, both ladies twirling their delicate winter parasols on their shoulders as they walk around the bustling yard. It’s midday and the snow coming down in generously light and dainty. The beautiful eldest daughter of House Cerwyn catches Robb’s eye. 

He noticed Evangeline’s beauty immediately when they were formally introduced, she just had that easy natural beauty about her that men went to war over. She was the perfect gentle-woman in every way a respectable noble lady such as herself should be. 

In effect, she is everything you are not. 

Your beauty is like a diamond that has yet to be polished from its cage of sharp black granite. It hides itself beneath your blunt personality and the gruff-n-tough way you hold yourself. You carry yourself more like a soldier, an equal to any man rather than a lady. Plus you were not from noble birth, in fact you didn’t come from any family at all. You are an orphan. 

You realize as you feel Robb tugging you towards her and Sansa, away from the stables drawn to her like a moth to a flame, that you’ve never had a last name. 

It makes you impossibly sad for some reason, muting any protests you might have said and dampening any fight you might have put up as Robb comes to stop in from of the two halted ladies and gives a graceful courteous bow. 

“Ladies,” Robb says in that deep voice he uses when he’s trying to be impressive and seem older. 

You don’t even bother trying to hold back your eyes as they roll generously in your sockets. You cock your hip and set your weight in it stubbornly, jutting it out further as you grumpily place your hands on your hips calling attention to the shackles between binding you together. Sansa squints at you in a coded warning. She must like Evangeline although its not hard to see why, she’s everything Sansa aims to be -- minus the being married part.

Your mouth quirks a little and suddenly you know exactly why the Cerwyns have come to Winterfell. 

You fight the urge to drag Robb away kicking and screaming to the stables, not knowing where such an immature childish impulse came from. Shaking it off you hone in on the conversation that’s been going on in your mental absence. Robb is charmingly giving a more in depth, quite frankly biased explanation as to why you both are shackled together as Evangeline blinks up at him under a swath of thick pretty eyelashes. 

“ -- took her in and she’s been a nuisance ever since. You see my Father has this very odd sense of humor as most of us Northerners do, and thought that if he chained us together she might learn a few manners!” 

You distinctly remember Ned saying this should teach Robb a few manners and some humility but you only grumble unintelligible sounds of disagreement under your breath.

Evangeline giggles then at Robb’s humor that was made at your expense, the sound of it chiming like tinkling glass bells in the wind. Her luscious hair falls around the frame of her face forming this vignette around a vision of grace. A lovely addictive smile plays at her lips, rewarding Robb for his efforts and inviting him to try some more. 

You refrain from turning to face Robb wanting nothing more than to carefully analyze his reaction to this blatant beauty flirting with him, but you know you couldn’t do that without being noticed. Confused silence yawns in your heart when you wonder why you even care what he’s feeling. 

There are only some many petty urges you can strangle back when it comes to Robb, and right now, in the presence of a flirting Evangeline -- the perfect wife chosen for Robb by his parents -- they are practically impossible to restrain.

“He takes longer to do his hair than I do.” You blurt in a vomit of words out of a numb mouth, the statement ridiculously random and having nothing to do with the conversation.   

The memory of standing impatiently beside Robb this morning as took his sweet time arranging his deep mahogany curls atop his head still fresh in your mind. You’re pretty sure he does it to piss you off but you hoped the little tid-bit would serve to embarrass him. Because it’s unmanly to groom yourself too long right? 

You want to show her how close you are to him, a small curious voice curls up from the black depths of the your mind that you never venture into, a sign that says ‘DO NOT ENTER, GO BACK’ placed at the threshold. 

Everyone pauses then looks to you as the weirdness of what you just said settles in the air like an echo of a bass bell. At this point you don’t even have the decency to be embarrassed, you just are glad Robb’s not looking at the Cerwyn vixen anymore. 

The pretty noble-lady in question looks you over for the first time even though you’ve been standing there for more than ten minutes. Blatant and purposefully not hidden disgust colors her lovely features. You fight the urge to curl into yourself and hide behind your own shadow at the unexpected sharpness of her gaze. Sansa’s eyebrows knit together and her eyes flash at you in more warning not to embarrass her any further in front of her respectable family-friend. 

“Well I can see that.” Evangeline eventually breaks the silence, retaining a cruel lightness to her tone that lets everyone know who is higher on the food chain. “Robby’s hair looks dashing fit for the young noble lord that he is,” She pauses to send Robb a gorgeous half smile at the compliment, batting her eyelashes at him once before returning her eyes back to you in full force, judgment and all, “But as for you and your hair I dare say it is not quite up to par.”

Robb hides his snicker poorly as your face falls a little in a moment of caught off guard insult, but you easily regain your composure. Really? She was insulting the state of your hair? It seems you have grossly over-estimated her ability to dismantle someone. Her rank was her only weapon against you. Getting insulted by her was like the equivalent of Evangeline throwing one of her handkerchiefs at you. 

Evangeline easily out ranked you, like by leagues, therefore you knew you could never publicly slander her back and get away with it like how she just did to you. You grit your teeth knowing your presence before her is only tolerated because you’re literally shackled to the heir to Winterfell. 

“I apologize for the ugly mark I’ve dashed across your day, maybe I should retire so as to not further disturb your peace.” You respond in easily registered mocking tone, ticking your head to the side like a bird of prey and giving her a chilly threatening smile (the mechanics of which you learned from Catelyn Stark).

“Oh! How kind of you to go to such measures to rid me of your ill-timed presence.” Evangeline plays back with a smug smirk on her face, like she just dropped a bombshell.

You pity her if that’s the best she can do. You yourself know you could bring her down but you know she’s not worth the effort, it’d be too easy. But you get good practice out of it none the less.

Sansa observes Evangeline every twitch and hangs onto her every word like she’s witnessing something sacred. The young red head quickly learns (to her extreme disappointment, ‘how dare you be better at something than Evangeline’) though that even though Evangeline has the higher status, your verbal sparing skills greatly out due Evangeline's. Robb happily watches, completely entertained, as you two continue to exchange icy phrases having to sometimes think hard to keep up with the coded insults.

You both eventually end with overly articulated flourishing sentences, even Sansa looked fed up at this point, and you parted ways. You fully expected for Robb to put up a fight and want to stay with Evangeline (in fact you were bracing yourself for it), but he easily followed you as you turned sharply and trudged away. He had only shouted a polite farewell to a pouting Evangeline. 

“What was all that about?” Robb questions in a tone you’d never heard him use before. Okay, never heard him use with you. “Was that how women fight over men? Did you two fight over me?” He has a bounce to his step you noticed and when you looked up at his face he was smiling. 

Instinctually you want to point that he’s smiling and somehow twist it into an insult or thing to hold over his head, but at the last minute your throat clogs up and blocks the habit from controlling your tongue. Instead you gulp thickly as you expertly run your eyes over his face, getting hit with how handsome Robb is. You don’t notice so much but for some reason its smacking you in the face now. 

His eyes are bright, similar to how they are when he’s angry but its a different kind of lightness. It’s carefree. You watch how his face molds around his smile thats big and generous and inviting, drawing you in and welcoming you to share in his happiness. 

With a gallant amount of effort you get a shaky grip on your emotional reigns and roll your eyes before smacking him upside the head sharply. Robb exclaimed a surprised ‘Ow!’ but gave no more protest other than rubbing the back of his as you began talking.

“No you idiot, we weren’t fighting over you. What we were doing was determining who was more powerful. It’s how women size each other up.” You explain in the most elementary way possible as you both walk on, some sort of synced autopilot taking you both towards the stables. 

(You had not noticed until now how in-tune you both had become. Robb and you already were highly intelligent of the others emotional inner workings do to you both manipulating each other all the time, but now that awareness has grown to something more powerful than you realized. You had entire conversations without needing to speak, made decisions based on the other’s body language. It was so overwhelming and so out of either of your control, that you pretended it wasn’t happening.)

“More powerful?” Robb asks with a naughty curl to his smile that made your breath catch in your throat, his happy mood determined to prevail the fall of his pride. He continues to practically trot at your side; you tell yourself its annoying.

“Yes like, oh how can I explain this to your primal male brain?” You sigh dramatically as you squint up at the grey sky while easily dodging his fist that was aimed for your shoulder, “It’s like a ‘Who Has the Bigger Cock’ contest.”

When you look back down from the sky, blinking some of the water out your eyes since the clouds made it too bright to stare at for long, to catch Robb’s gaze you find his eyes wide. His mouth had dropped out of its full grin to hang open in a mock-scandalized ‘O’, but the corners of his lips were still suspiciously curved up giving him away. 

“Did you just say–,”

“Cock? Yes, men and prostitutes don’t own the word. Cock. There I said it again.” You challenge as you playfully shove him away from you (where did that urge come from?), him breathing out a strange noise through his nose that sounded almost like a laugh as he regains his step and shoves you back. 

Robb looks fascinated at the fact that you said a dirty word when you both recover your gaits beside one another and reconnect gazes. You smirk at him as a witty thought pops into your head and slips off your tongue.

“Lady ‘Your Hair Isn’t Up To Par’ wouldn’t be caught dead saying the word cock.” You tease as you jut your chin up at the jab. A foreign but yet oddly addictive energy zings between you two then, the atmosphere around you morphing and changing into something new -- something....exciting.

Robb’s cobalt irises shake with mischief and flash at you, except this time its not anger its something else.

“I bet I could make her say it.” 

You gasp, trying to hide your scandalized grin, and go to smack him upside the head again but Robb unfortunately learned from last time and ducks away in time. With his stupidly fast reflexes he snatches your offending shackle-free wrist and chucks a triumphant cocky smirk at you over the horizon of your fingers.

“Let go of me Curly.” You grunt playfully as you wrench your wrist out of his grip and start up your walking pace again. The nickname coming easy and out of the blue.

“Then don’t hit me Stray.” Robb throws right back at you and this time the chain doesn’t need to yank him to fall into step beside you, he does it himself.  

When you roll your eyes at him as you always do, there isn’t a single hint of the usual frustration or anger or bitterness that accompanies the gesture. What appears in replacement is a fuzzy and weird and warm feeling that sits esoterically on the throne of your heart. You shy away from figuring out what it is and what it means, scared for some reason. 

You both watch the foal be born. It’s a young stallion. With a murky expression on his face Robb tells the stable master to name it Curly.

End of the Month - current day

There had been a small ball that had been thrown in the Cerwyns’ honor (and the anticipated unannounced union of their houses, you had thought bitterly though you did not want to know this aggravated you so much). It was just the two families who were in attendance, but there was music and dancing in the banquet hall after a grand meal. Catelyn unlocked Robb from you for the entire evening.

It was strange to not have his presence always at your right. It was almost akin to losing a limb -- a weird, frustratingly uncomfortable hollowness. You kept torturing yourself with questions you couldn’t answer; like if Robb felt the same way, felt this emptiness that plagued you.

As expected you were not allowed at the festivities, and instead spent the evening fencing with Jon out in the chilly court yard. Jon noticed how you moved like you had a limp, an illusion that something was missing -- an intangible feeling that you were off-kilter -- but he already knew the reason. Jon knew you better than you knew yourself honestly, but he wouldn’t ever dream of telling you that. You might not be a Stark, but you had the temper of one.

It wasn’t until Ned called you inside when everything was dying down and people were retiring to their chambers so he could lock you and Robb back up, that things took a sharp fucking turn to the left. Robb had appeared in the hallway leading to the court yard you had just in from -- with Evangeline on his arm. They were chatting away, easily leaning in towards each other like a magnet was coaxing them closer. They really were a perfect match. For some reason the thought made your stomach twist, then plunge into your gut.

As Robb, without looking or paying any attention to no one other than Evangeline, offered his wrist to his Father and Ned gently took yours, something in you died. A small tragedy that was being mourned by your soul as it wept in the flesh cage of your body. You ignored this and kept your eyes down, following Ned’s fingers as they deftly moved around your wrist and Robb’s, familiar with the lock and key by now.

Ned noticed how quiet you were and concern seeped into the lightness of the evening. He knew better than to ask a young woman if she was ‘okay’ and let it be. When he announced his departure with nothing more than a polite Stark Grunt, you immediately wanted him to stay.

Don’t leave me with them! Your eyes pleaded, by you kept them down so Ned couldn’t read them and fufill your wishes.

When Ned was gone you endured the horrific torture of having to wait for Robb and Evangeline to bid each other good night. Evangeline was prolonging things on purpose, I mean you couldn’t blame her. What really struck home for you though was the smile Robb was giving her. He never looks at you that way (not that you ever tried to earn it).

“He’s mine to hate and hurt and to do with as I please, no one else’s,” You hear yourself hissing at Lady Evangeline, high on this powerful strange emotion coursing through your veins and letting instinct carry your actions. 

You shove yourself in between the two with no warning making them unlink arms. With mounting chargin you close in on her personal space despite the frantic beating of her delicate party fan to keep you at bay. Her intimidated expression of growing fear (of you, you realize with a twisted satisfaction) is not what pulls you from your sudden fever of gripping fury. It’s actually the silence beside you that shakes you free of it. 

Robb is silent. 

That never happens, Robb always has something to say in retaliation to literally any words that ever leave your mouth whether they pertain to him or not. You pull your face back only enough to swing your blazing gaze on Robb, whose expression holds the shape of an emotion you haven’t seen on him before.

This sets a flock of starving crows into a madden flurry in your stomach, their sharp beaks plucking at your insides and eating you alive. Because you know all of Robb’s faces; Every. Single. One. Having memorized the intimate paths to take in order to unlock his different emotional states, these maps of mind, heart, and soul you’ve made well trodden over the years, learning him from the inside out to get the best reactions from him. You know how to manipulate him just as he well as he knows how to manipulate you.

But now, staring at him with the fire in your soul weaning a bit and twisting into a new foreign kind of burn, you don’t recognize him. Who is this? What’s that face? Your mental radars are setting off alarms in your head as you rush to figure out what in the name of the Seven is going through his head. You always know what Robb is thinking, usually you despised this talent (but also found it quite useful) but now could not for the life of you take advantage of it.

You didn’t even realize the gentle-lady Evangeline had scooted away and gratefully fled the bubble of tension, leaving Robb and you openly glaring -- or gawking -- at each other in the middle of the hallway. A tender winter breeze sneaks in from the closed door behind you, whistling lowly as it sweeps by and nips both of your noses in cosmic jest.

It dawns on you quite slowly.

But once your mind catches the thought, takes firm but gentle hold of it in its embrace making sure that it won’t slip away, do you start to unwrap the answer to the emotion on Robb’s face. Your soul holds its breath.

Agreement.

Pure, gilded, unrestrained agreement was what it was -- the feeling looks so raw and new on his features, like it shocked Robb so thoroughly he didn’t have the means to hide it. Enigmatic acceptance follows closely behind to color in the leftover untouched bits of canvas on Robb’s face, reigning free and wild to mix like drops of blood in water, swirling like whirlpools to full collected potency in the azure blue of his eyes.

His soul stares at you hard from behind matching cobalt windows, sizing you up and after a couple heart beats, cautiously waves invitingly at your own soul. You feel her press up curiously against the back of your eyes to analyze him back. The pressure in your eye sockets may have indeed been due to the presence of your soul, but the pressure was also do to the accompanying vengeful tears, anxious to be released having been pent up and barred from their grave of the outside world for so long.

The whiplash-like emotional shock that you are crying in front of Robb kickstarts in your body and your skin erupts in gooseflesh. Robb does nothing in response to seeing wetness in your eyes bulge then give as one tear sparkles poetically down your cheek, accept curving the center of his eyebrows up in clean concerned awe of you. You feel disconnected from your own limbs as they move you on their own accord, sprinting off somewhere as everything becomes overwhelming. 

Its too much. 

You feel like a wave is cresting in your chest and you’re not sure your heart will survive it washing over you. 

You’re so focused on running from yourself that you don’t even register that Robb’s being hauled along with you, the chain binding you both together.

Robb doesn’t know what to make of things. Too many emotions have torn through his heart tonight and he’s more than a little hesitant to break all, if any of them down. He’s more than a bit surprised when you drag him to his chambers (since they have been sleeping in yours since you almost froze to death). His mouth opens to make a comment but he thinks better of it and shuts up. 

He lets you lead, recognizing that you’re taking your day clothes off in the weird ballet you both have mastered over the past month. How you manage to get out of your day clothes one-handed baffles Robb every time with all the layers and skirts and corsets and shifts. You leave yourself in your plain white fabric shift and Robb strips down to his undershirt and matching underpants. 

Without a word you shock him once again and crawl down to the floor, settling on the thin fur carpet beside his bed, grabbing multiple quilts and furs and pillows down from the bed to make a small comfy nest. 

Robb again can’t find his voice so he wordlessly lays on the bed, letting his hand hang off for your comfort, and listens as you make a last few adjustments and settle. Right on cue Grey Wind noses in through the cracked open door, the heavy wood slightly uneven on its hinges, creaks back closed. He hops on the bed but stops when he sees its Robb, then hops back down to nestle into your nest with you. 

Robb sighs.

The room goes quiet. 

He hopes things go back to normal, whatever normal is, tomorrow.

Robb doesn’t get his “normal” back quite the way he expected. 

It’s the wee hours of the night and his mind never really shut down from all the craziness of the evening. His consciousness may be resting but his brain has refused to stop thinking. 

He dreams about vague shapes moving through grey snowy light, familiar intimate colors he recognizes blur and mix together trying to confuse him. He reaches for something, knowing that he wants whatever he’s reaching for but unsure as to what it is. This does not deter him. His dream-self sifts through these colors, wades through them hoping to spot that tell tale color even though he doesn’t know what color he’s looking for. 

You don’t dream at all. Your heart closed off the pathway that connects your mind to the secret unknown chambers of your heart, leaving only blackness to consume you. 

Suddenly, instead of darkness, pain consumes you and shoves you awake like a tub of ice water had been poured over your head as something heavy traps you to the ground, making it hard to breathe. For a moment you think the ice water is real and you hold your breath and try frantically kicking to the surface, working your legs and waving your arms around as best you could under the weight holding you down. 

Purple feathers explode in Robb’s dream as he lands on something soft thats writhing savagely underneath him, still searching for that One. Seven forsaken. Color. 

Disoriented you lurch and spaz under the weight on top of you when your breath starts to run out, tangling yourself in ropes of thick seaweed...or are those arms? A weird noise leaves your mouth, lips pressed to something unidentifiable. A softness brushes over your face and you can’t fucking see -- 

Whatever has cushioned Robb’s fall squirms under him like an angry shark, sharp pokes of bone jutting into his gut making more kaleidoscopes of color burst like fireworks behind his eyes. 

“Umph!” You grunt as you free your non-shackled hand from its anonymous captor and wave it around blindly trying to come to grips with what, exactly, is happening. You’re not sure if you’re still drowning or even in water.

A crisp smack! sounds in the room and a stinging sensation burns across Robb’s cheek. This jolts him out of his dream-world and plunges him head first into loud confusing reality. 

For some reason Robb yells on the rocketing fall back down to consciousnesses, 

“The feathers aren’t yours!”

You momentarily pause your struggle like you were struck dumb by lightening, before resuming your shoving when you feel more than hear the rumble of Robb’s familiar morning voice as his chest you find, is in fact -- impossibly -- pressed flush to yours. 

His voice is an anchor and now you know for sure you aren’t underwater. 

“What, Robb?! How -- get OFF!” You shriek in the scattered anarchic chaos of the darkness, your voice cracking from a tight throat and words coming out a jumble of nonsense due to your sleep-lazy tongue. “You great oaf! Your chest -- OW! Robb that’s my breast, get your filthy hands --,” 

You grunt in pain as his head knocks hard against your skull when he suddenly jerks on top of you, and a slight ringing sounds in your ears. Honestly you can’t tell where your body starts and his begins as you both scramble to cradle your throbbing foreheads. Both your hands tangle on the way up causing more dismantled disorientation. 

Grey Wind sits neatly on his hind legs a safe distance from the mess, watching you both struggle, ears twitching, wondering in a wistful wolfy way what the heck his dumb humans are up to now. 

“Robb -- get, just move your, Gods, will you just get off!” You cry as Robb regains an idea of where he is what -- who you are. 

“Stray?” Robb gravels once his head stops spinning and the stinging sensation in his cheek roles into numbness. 

Robb stills over you and before he can carefully remove himself from you, you take his hesitation as stubbornness and knee him clean in the groin. Of course, if you were more awake, you would have realized that kneeing him in his family jewels would only delay his departure from your body, not hasten it. 

Naturally, Robb’s body hunches and curls down into your further as blinding white pain courses through him, groaning loudly in your ear.

You make a very embarrassing squeaky noise as you feel the chords of his muscle stretched across his body bunch and pull to collect in his abs as he crunches over, forehead grinding into the carpet beside your head, face squished up in blind agony against your neck. 

A small disconnected part of your mind notes the feel of resurrecting stubble on his angular cheeks as he presses against your sensitive skin. 

Rationally you know Robb isn’t doing this on purpose because you kinda set yourself up for this one, but the feeling of all that sinewy muscle working against the length of your body sets fires in your veins. Heat licks up your neck and stings in your cheeks. You have never been so grateful for pitch black in your entire life. 

You try to say something witty and sarcastic as Robb writhes on you in paralyzing pain that crawls like molasses through his system, but you find that you suddenly did not know any words. Language is a foreign concept to your brain as the weight of Robb on you churns your mind steadily to mush and makes your body go more pliant beneath him. 

You think you hear yourself slur something about beauty sleep but you’re not quite sure. 

It takes Robb a really long time to come back into his head after the pain in his groin lessens just enough to allow coherent thought to filter to through. It takes a Robb an even longer time to work out where all his limbs are. 

As limb locations start popping up, he slowly realizes why you are so still beneath him. His body is on fire with the ghost of your touch smothering him.

He mistakes your stillness and absence of words for disgust and horror instead of the current pile of fluff and goo you actually are. The darkness rolls it eyes but serves its purpose to confuse the two of you further, if that’s even possible. He immediately huffs an apology and scrambles awkwardly off you, wincing dramatically still in quite a bit of pain. You really dealt a punch. Once Robb is a safe distance from where he estimates your knees are, he speaks.

“Y/n?” He honest to Gods whispers like you’ll explode, or maybe injure him fatally this time.

You don’t respond as you stare wide eyed up at the ceiling you can’t see. After a moment you gulp and ask no one in particular, maybe the blackness above you,

“What the fuck?”

Robb chews over your words for a hot second, snorts, then collapses to the carpeted stone to lay down on his back beside you. The tension from earlier breaks like a dam. 

“You do realize I’m not going to be able to have children right?” 

Robb hears you roll your eyes at him in the darkness and receives a very unlady-like scoff, followed by a weak punch in the shoulder for his trouble.

“Men are such babies.” 

Robb smiles. 

Okay shit wow, sorry that was a lot longer than the first part! Let me know if you liked it or not if you want to :) I take requests xxx