#catelyn stark x reader

[missglaskin]

House Stark (Platonic) Yandere HCS: 

Characters-Ned, Benjen (Mention), Catelyn, Jon, Robb, Rickon, Bran, Sansa, Arya 

Catelyn held her breath when the rumors reached her ears. Her husband once again brought a child to Winterfell. Her mind goes to Jon. She would not be able to stand having another bastard living under the same roof. To her relief, Ned brought the small child in so that he found her all alone, possibly abandoned and couldn’t leave her there, seeing that she won’t survive on her own. 

That being said, Catelyn found herself growing fond of you. She could not let you go, and it warmed her heart to see you smile. She would dismiss many of her duties just to spend all the time with you. Ensuring you were well fed and dressed, handing you to the septa to start teaching you how to read and write. It wasn’t long before Cat started to refer to you as her own. 

It certainly was a surprise to Ned. He simply wanted to provide you a haven in Winterfell, not knowing it would be his own castle. Ned voiced to Cat how she shouldn’t be so attached to you. Your biological parents may be somewhere for all they know. It also bothered him how Cat would imply that you were their child, yet Ned finds himself a hypocrite when he grows attached to you as well. 

Ned was fond of daughters and that was seen in you too. He couldn’t help the swelling of his heart. Ned loved to have you on his side, giving you a small smile whenever you would look up at him. Also, starting to have some of his trusted guards follow you around in fear for your safety. When you once accidentally referred to him as ‘father’ Ned knew there was no going back, finally seeing you as his own. 

Robb quickly grew fond of you. He already accepted Jon as his brother and with you it’s no different. More so with how close in age you both are. As your big brother, he found it his duty to protect you. Getting into fights with any boy who messes or flirts with you. Robb also loves to tease you, but as said, will let no one else do so. 

Sansa looks up to you as her older sister. She craves your attention and approval, showing you the clothes she sewed or the songs she learned. A huge smile on her face when you praise her. Sansa constantly makes excuses for you to spend more time with her. Such as her purposely messing her hair for you to brush it for her. 

Arya also wants your attention. She can be quite demanding, much more forward than the rest of her family. Pulling you by the hand to follow her. Arya has a habit of running to you and leaping into your arms. Out of everyone, she listens to you the most. Similar to Sansa, she shows you some of the moves she ‘learned’ or guides you to the places she found. 

Bran can get quite sneaky in getting your attention. There is him obviously wanting to show you his climbing skills. Watching him as you remain on the ground, reminding him to be careful. More than once, he sneaked into your chambers through your window and you scold him every time. Bran likes when you would read him stories or ruffle his hair. 

Rickon is perhaps the clingiest and needy out of all the children. As the baby of the family, he expects to receive your most affection and attention. He does get easily upset when he must separate from you. Rickon loves to follow you around the castle, his hands clutched to your dress. 

Lastly comes Jon. At first, he envied you. Watching Cat accept you in the family and treat you as her own. But Jon eventually began to become fond of you. As you are nice to him, treating him like he was a part of the family, like he was your brother. He becomes protective of you and eager to do whatever you ask of him just to please you. 

Jon also notices how Cat is starting to be a little nicer to him. Realizing she’s only doing it with you around. As you hate seeing Jon being treated badly. Jon soon finds in a lot of feasts and events that normally he wouldn’t be allowed to attend to with his legitimacy and all. If anything, this act of kindness drew Jon closer to you against Cat’s wishes. 

You are doted upon by your parents. Whatever books or furs you wish for are gifted with not much hesitance. The servants are instructed to fulfill every one of your whims and desires. You also have your siblings who will gladly do whatever you ask them to do and silently compete with one another in which gift you will love the most. 

The most who compete with one another are Sansa and Arya. Either one comes to complain about the other. Such as when Sansa whines that Arya pranked her to which then Arya argues that Sansa laughed at her with friends. You are stuck in the middle, where either sister forces you to choose a side. 

Robb and Jon follow right after, but the two are more subtle and can find a middle ground. With Jon, there has to be a lot of reassurance that you don’t care for Robb more as he feels that doesn’t deserve you. Rickon and Bran also compete with each other, which is solved by each clinging to your either side.

As mentioned Ned and Cat spoil you, which makes it hard for you to get in trouble. Ned tries to be stern, but your tears make him feel as if his heart will shatter into a million pieces. Cat doesn’t even try. In her eyes, you always be her little baby no matter how grown and that you could do no wrong. 

The whole family is fiercely protective of you. Panic spreads through the family if you ever get hurt or someone makes you cry to which the Starks will reveal their claws to whoever did this. Even a small cut on your finger is enough to have Cat and Sansa tend to it as it’s a life-threatening injury. Ned is basically the only voice of reason, but even he is deeply upset by this.

Any topic of any possible betrothals is shut down. As much as Ned is fiercely protective of you, he could allow you to marry someone who will be kind and treat you with gentleness. But the worry lies with the rest of his family. Cat, Arya, Robb, and Jon hold you close. They don’t trust anyone to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Sansa, Rickon, and Bran are terrified of the person taking you away from them. 

Benjen when he comes to visit Winterfell is happy to see you. He tries to gift you anything that he finds during his travels. When you were younger, he loved throwing you up high to the worry of Ned and Cat. Even now, there is a playfulness to him, loving to hear the sound of your laughter. 

When the family stumbled upon the direwolves. They were all so excited to show them to you. The direwolves similar to their owners have grown attached to you. If they were not following any of the Starks' children, they were found with you. It made Cat a little nervous, but Ned assures that it was a good sign. Shaggydog and Ghost are the most clingy, their noses pressed to yours as they demand you to pet them. 

The Starks are some of the most loving families. Each one of them cares for you deeply. In how they make sure you are the most comfortable and happy. In how they will shield you from whatever may come. In never making you forget how much you mean to them.

[cdragons]

❄︎ House Stark & Spicy Food ❄︎ - w/ spicy loving reader

Cries if there's too much pepper:

All of them, Sansa and Robb - these two will actually die if they have the slightest sense of heat to any food they try. Like their hair, they get it from their mother.

Robb will try so hard to pretend that he has any spice tolerance...he doesn't...he REALLY doesn't

This boy wants to impress you so badly while also dying and you are not being very helpful bc you keep laughing at how red his face gets

You didn't even put that much in, it was barely a dash of cayenne or one jalapeno seed and he will DIE

If you ever try to put spice in his dishes, he will look at you with the biggest look of betrayal

Redding Wedding what? Nope, the real, most unforgivable act of treason against this King of the North was putting a ghost pepper in his stew after he pissed you off and drinking all his water to make sure that there wasn't any left near him.

Are the two of you married? Does not matter - off to the dungeons with you.

Okay, not really, but he will be seriously pissed and have a huge pouty face for the rest of the week.

He feels even more betrayed when he sees Grey Wind sleeping next to you after you put the pepper in his food.

"Are you on my side or hers?" - Grey Wind is on Team Cuddles and Being Spoiled.

If you end up eating something too spicy for you, he WILL be the most insufferable person about it

Sansa is literally no different, if not worse, than her brother.

Everything that was written above -> multiply that by 10000 in terms of spice intolerance, and you get Sansa.

She does NOT care about impressing you with improving her spice tolerance.

You could try to convince her that spicy food is better for her body and there are a ton of health benefits, but you will FAIL

You once gave her a Cubanelle pepper (About 1,000 SHU) bc the only less spicy option was a bell pepper and bell peppers are only peppers in name and not in spirit

She did not react well

She RAN 🏃‍♀️ to the well and drank the water out of the pail.

...Was it bad that you laughed at her reaction? Yes

Would you do it again? Also, yes

Was it totally worth being banned from nighttime cuddles and kisses for an entire month?...Okay, maybe you won't do it again

You could make fun of her unseasoned potatoes and closer-to-water soup all you want. She is not interested in damaging her stomach lining and developing stomach cancer.

She WILL make fun of you if you end up eating something too spicy for YOU, and you let her because you love seeing her more childish smile and side.

Slightly Dying, but Otherwise Okay and Kind of Digs It:

Jon can eat spicy foods...theoretically.

He's eaten Wilding food and the rotten food from Castle Black -> compared to that, he can take a little heat.

He was wrong - He was so very, VERY wrong. Your level of heat and spice was something that only a demon could take.

Jon was convinced that you were part dragon bc he can't think of any other reason as to how and WHY you put yourself through this?

Eventually, he DOES develop a bit of spice tolerance, and you take full credit for it, especially because this means his taste palette is more on your level. You aren't as afraid of accidentally killing him with your cooking preferences.

But it ends up lowkey backfiring on him bc you won't stop sneaking spicy food into his meals, and sometimes Tormund and his brothers in Black will sneak a bite off his plate (no one died...everyone lives...shhhhhhhhh)

Sam is dead - he died, you killed him. Gilly is officially out for your blood, and little Sam is raised with the single goal of piercing you with a pointy stick bc you killed his dad.

Pyp and Edd are also lowkey dying. Still, they actually enjoy the heat and are always happy to taste test for your dishes...despite their bowels hating them for it

Grenn and Tormund fucking LOVE the heat. They can easily down bowl after bowl after bowl of your cooking.

Bran SHOULD not eat spicy food...but he does because it makes you so happy, and he will literally do anything for your smile and cuddles.

Like his love of climbing and scary stories, he honestly lives for the thrill of taking the heat.

All of his siblings are terrified he's going to get a stomach ulcer one day because he keeps adding more spice to his food, and they are ALL blaming you, and you're just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

While he's traveling with Osha, Hodor, Rickon, and Reed Siblings, it's your cooking that helps keep them warm.

When he becomes the Three-Eyed Raven and King of the Seven Kingdoms, he and you will go to the kitchens to make your favorite dishes from your shared past because it brings a little of the old Bran back.

It's only around you that he can still smile and laugh, and you love him no matter what.

Love Spicy Food and Can ACTUALLY Take it

Arya LOVESSSSS the heat - All Day, Everyday Baby

While she was in Braavos and training in the House of Black and White, she sampled so many dishes and spices from the markets.

This opened a whole new world to her tastebuds, and when she returned to Winterfell - she still loved the food because it was all the food of her childhood, but it just tasted...boring.

You and her actually met while she was training in Braavos, and your family ran a spice stall in one of the markets.

You were fascinated by the girl and always offered a warm meal and housing if she ever needed it. While cooking for her, Arya would tell you stories about Ned and Jon and all her other siblings.

When she reunited with her family at Winterfell, she thought it was adorable how happy and excited you were to meet them. She also highly encouraged you to share one of your spiciest dishes with them.

Bran didn't have much of a reaction save for a small cough, but Jon immediately reached for his water while Sansa just fainted from the shock of the heat assault in her mouth.

Rickon is the only sibling who can actually eat your food and so he automatically becomes your favorite Stark after Arya.

Rickon and you met while traveling with your siblings (Meera and Jojen) to find Bran. You carried many foreign spices with you (for whatever reason).

Immediately, he was smitten with you because you were the youngest sibling around his age. Shaddydog also loved you from the beginning, which helped your case.

A lot of the spices you carried also had medicinal purposes, so you were in charge of cooking while Meera handled the weapons and Jojen helped guide Bran to the 3ER.

It was during the coldest and most freezing blizzard nights, you used one of your hottest spices to make a stew. It was a miracle by fate that Rickon LOVED it.

Since then, he's always begging you to put hotter spices in the meals, but you refuse bc your spices are expensive and because you don't want to accidentally kill the rest of the "Save The World" Gang.

Shaddydog is a huge issue when you're making food because he's very curious about all the different smells and tastes, and you have to keep booping his nose out of the way because you love adding garlic, and it's not good for canines to eat garlic and salt.

*BONUS*

Catelyn - cannot eat anything spicy for the life of her

Ned - same as his wife, tbh lol

[damagnificentcookie]

Game of Thrones/House Of the Dragons

Catelyn Tully

-5 time's Catelyn said, "I love you" and the one time she couldn't

Cersei Lannister

-The Enchanting Rose

Brienne of Tarth

[Nothing here yet]

Margery Tyrell

[Nothing here yet]

Melisandre

[Nothing here yet]

Rhaenys Targaryean

[Nothing here yet]

Ellaria Sand & Oberyn Martell

[Nothing here yet]

Ned Stark

[Nothing here yet]

[remitheremit]

Modern Game of Thrones x baby!reader

“There we go baby, all ready. Mama will miss you sweet girl” (Y/n) grinned behind her pacifier as Cat leaned in to press a soft kiss to her nose, her mother ran her hands against her car seat buckled- making sure the harness secured her. Stepping back from the car door she gave her youngest, and admittedly her favorite one last smile before shutting the car door. “She’ll have plenty of fun, she loves her ol’ uncle Jon!” Jon grinned at me through his car window as Cat gave her brother-in-law a laugh, nodding away since (Y/n) did love any trip with her Uncle Jon. It happened usually once every few weeks where Jon would trudge to Winterfell all to take the littlest Stark fishing! A task he could do with no other like the baby, they’d spend the day up at the lake, fish and play, then they’d go out to the diner for some supper. All then, when (Y/n) returned home she’d be welcomed back to her mothers breast, how she loved her milk. But for now… milk was the least of her worries.

“Time with you is time very well spent” Jon could absolutely understand why you were Cat and Ned’s little world, you were the sweetest thing in the state of Westeros. Jon held the two year old on his lap casting the hook within the deep waters. Something like this, spending quality time with family was something rare that Jon experienced- Robin and Lysa lacked much… family… experience or at least with Jon. “Oh…OH!” A sudden yank from Jon’s line made him shoot up pulling back in his catch.

“Okay, smile (Y/n)!” Jon couldn’t help but laugh at the toddlers shocked expression of the wiggling fish, once successfully taken on his phone he allowed the grinning toddler to throw the fish back out into the lake. “Oh good girl! That’s something mummy and daddy will love!”

(Short modern Game of thrones blurb 😭 with little baby reader who loves her fam- especially uncle Jon. Also I don’t know how fishing works)

[violette-hue]

Catelyn x femOc either from game of thrones world or someone from our world who ends up there (either is absolutely fine) and maybe during or after Cat’s “arrest” by Robb, and a mention of cat having her hair fully down, would be nice because by good she looked pretty with it down. Can it be a romantic relationship and just really go to town with it, it can be as out of the box as you like.

Comfort

Summary: You comfort Catelyn Stark after the repercussions of letting Jaime go.

Trigger Warning(s): crying, mentions of missing children

Word Count: 478

Lady Stark was a wise and wonderful woman. Her couragnesness was somewhat of an inspiration to you. Even now, that she has possibly ruined all of Robb Stark's plans with the war. Even though she had undermined her son and made the King of the North look bad. There was something about the way she fought for her children that you admired, too. You knew that was why she let Jaime go. For her children.

You knew she would be sitting a little ways outside of the camp in the forest. It was the closest someone could get to Winterfell’s Godswood. Lady Stark was sitting on a fallen tree with a fur cloak around her shoulders. Her auburn hair was loose, something that was a rare sight. The reddish strands of her hair danced in the air as a cold winter breeze swifter through. She was beautiful, even at her age. Even with the things she had been through.

You shook your head, remembering the urgent task at hand. You stepped forward, only to be yanked back by rough hands. You let out a yelp and desperately tried to break free. You needed to tell Catelyn she was going to be detained to her tents. You needed to—

“Stop struggling, girl. You’re interfering with the King’s business.”

You froze at that, hesitant to proceed. The guard was right. You were interfering. Though you didn’t want your love to be in any kind of trouble, you also didn’t want yourself to be in trouble. Possibly treason, depending on how hard you pushed. You allowed the guard to escort you back to camp, formulating a plan to sneak off to Catelyn’s tents.

You were deposited in the center of camp, not too far from Catelyn’s tents. You walked aimlessly towards them, trying to not bring any sort of attention to you. You hoped she was okay. Of course no one would hurt her, but emotionally? Would she be torn up? Would she be devastated by her son’s actions? Robb was just and fair, but Catelyn was only trying to do what she thought best for Sansa and Arya. She couldn’t be condemned for that.

When you finally reached her tents, you sneaked towards the back, where you knew there was an opening just for you. You stopped just at the secret entrance, listening. You commenced forward, hearing nothing but silence. You pushed the tent flap to the side and stepped inside hurriedly.

“Cat?” you called, looking around. You found her sitting on her bed, handkerchief in hand. Was she crying?

She raised her head towards you, her eyes meeting yours. She stood and rushed towards you. You immediately enveloped her in an embrace. You ran your fingers through her pretty auburn hair as she wept on your shoulder.

You shushed her soothingly, kissing her temple. “It’s alright, Cat. I’m here.”

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Being the Frey girl betrothed to Robb Stark

Request: Yes or No

Did not intend for this to be long

~~~

It was supposed to be the perfect day. Many little ladies dreamt of their weddings, dreamily wondering about their future husbands and the family they'd create together. Your dreams of the perfect wedding had been brief, crushed quickly under the boot of your father, Walder Frey, and you were forced to accept that you'd be marrying out of duty rather than true love.

There'd been some hope and a spark of relief when your sisters had rushed to your bedchambers, giddy and eager to speak of your betrothed: Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell. He had visited briefly and been allowed his pick of the litter, but when he provided no response, your father chose for him. You knew of the Starks of Winterfell. They were an honorable family and close as could be. And from the accounts of your sisters, Robb was a handsome man. Young, handsome, eyes blue as sapphires, pretty brown hair, and incredibly polite. You hadn't seen him as you'd been occupied the day of his visit, but everything your sisters told you filled you with glee. An honorable, kind husband who you'd surely fall in love with.

Or so you thought.

You'd been there when one of Walder's men had requested his time and spoke of Robb. The words that followed had sent you reeling, stomach twisting and heart shattering. Robb had a lover. A healer from Volantis named Talisa Maegyr. Your father's rage had been brief, calming when the man assured him Robb still planned on wedding you. He hadn't broken his promise to House Frey, and that had been enough for your father. You shouldn't have been surprised. Walder himself had fostered many bastards throughout his countless marriages.

"A man has needs." He'd said, curling his bony fingers around his ale and bringing it to his mouth. He cared little for the tears forming in your eyes. "I cannot fault him for that."

You spent the rest of the day weeping in your room with your sisters around you, murmuring comforts and trying to brighten your day.

"You'll be Lady Stark and Queen of the North soon, dear sister." One had attempted, a brush delicately going through your hair. "His mistress will be just that. A mistress."

But it hadn't been that. No, you wept because a mistress before the wedding had even been planned meant a loveless marriage where you'd have to battle for your husband's attention, battle to ensure you had his child first. You'd seen firsthand how much a loveless marriage affected a bride. Your father had many wives after the death of your own mother, each of them young and full of light that dimmed with each passing day until they were a hollow and empty shell. You wept for what could've been a happy future far from the grim place you called home.

But the sadness turned to bitterness and anger over night. The Stark's prided themselves on being loyal and honorable, sticking to their oaths and promises even if it meant putting their own happiness aside. Why couldn't Robb done that for you? Why had he taken a lover so quickly after the announcement of your incoming wedding? He hadn't cared about how shameful it would be for you. How humiliating. You'd be known as Lady (Y/N) of Winterfell, the woman who'd been cast aside before ever meeting her husband.

The wedding date had arrived sooner than later, something you loathed. You stared at the reflection in the mirror as both maids and kin tended to you. They brushed your hair, powdered your face, and tightened the wedding dress to your body while fawning over how beautiful of a wedding it'd be. They praised you at the end, gushing over how pretty of a bride you'd be. They hadn't thought to realize that Robb would be envisioning his little healer in your place when you walked down the isle.

You ensured to keep a stoic expression throughout the ceremony, not even mustering a smile for your husband when he lifted the veil and took in your appearance. His eyes, as pretty as described, had widened considerably and flickered over to the pews where his family sat. The ends of his mouth had quirked up into a smile and he muttered a soft 'my lady' before turning to the Septon. You would've scoffed if it weren't for the stare Walder gave you.

The ceremony went by in a breeze and you kept your stoic, cool composure, even when your father had lowly whispered for you to smile after being seated. He no longer had control over you. You relished in the thought. The only good thing that had allowed for you to have an appetite as Starks, Freys, and other allies celebrated. You spent most of the celebration searching for her until you noticed Catelyn Stark speaking with a young woman who stared at Robb hopelessly. Talisa, you presumed from the frankly exasperated look on Catelyn's face. She was pretty, you'd give him that.

"Are you feeling well?" Robb asked quietly and reached for your hand, delicately placing his over it and staring at you with knitted brows. You pulled your hand away swiftly and set it on your lap, eyes moving onto your beloved sisters to keep your emotions in check.

"No." You answered after a brief pause. Robb was handsome, incredibly so, but his presence alone irritated you. You had to act quick before the bedding ceremony took place, a tradition your father insisted on keeping alive. "I feel unwell, Lord Stark. I'm afraid I'll be retreating early."

"Shall I go with-"

Rising from your seat, you shook your head, still refusing to meet his eyes. "No, My Lord. That will not be necessary." You carefully lifted your dress and breezed past your father, ignoring the glare he speared into your back as you glided down the steps and toward the exit.

Slipping out into the familiar halls, you exhaled deeply and released your gown. It dragged along the stone floor, dark gray clashing with white. You itched to get out of it as soon as possible. The thought of burning it crossed your mind but it felt too childish, too improper of a lady.

"My Queen." A voice echoed down the hall and you halted. Queen of the North and Lady Stark of Winterfell. Right. Your new titles. No longer one of Walder's many overlooked daughters. You looked over your shoulder, spotting her auburn hair first, a signature trait of the Tully family. Catelyn Stark.

"My Lady." You greeted her, turning to face the older woman. She smiled sweetly, gazing at you with the warmth of a mother. Catelyn grew closer and took your hands into hers, smile turning into a shamed smile.

"I am deeply sorry for what my son has done." Her voice sounded sincere, full of guilt and shame. She shook her head. "I taught him better than that. He knows better than that. But rest assured, that woman will not cause problems for you."

You'd nearly forgotten. Eddard Stark had returned home from the war with a bastard son called Jon Snow and raised him as a trueborn alongside the rest of his children. You remembered the murmured rumors of how Catelyn detested him and had fostered a particular dislike for bastards. Perhaps that dislike extended to mistresses.

"She may share his bed, that is true. But he is my husband now, and as his wife, I have duties that I will not forget. I can assure you, Lady Stark, I will give your son an heir and do what needs to be done for House Stark to prosper, just as you have done these many years." Her eyes softened considerably, fingers lightly squeezing the palms of your hands.

"Oh, sweet child." Catelyn cooed gently and brought a hand to your cheek. You yearned for your mother's embrace, her soothing words. You pressed your lips together to keep them from trembling. "You shall make a wonderful queen and a wonderful wife. I... I will ensure Robb does his duties as husband. You need not stress over Talisa."

"I appreciate it, Lady Stark. I'm afraid I'll be heading to my- our bedchambers for the rest of the night. Please assure everyone that I am well." You pulled your hands from hers and lowered your head in respect to the monarch before turning and resuming your walk down the hall.

Another deep breath and you reached the one of the many guest bedchambers. Most of your belongings had been packed up for you, likely already sitting in Robb's tent out on the field. You dismissed the servants that offered to help you ready for bed, only agreeing to have a warm bath drawn so you could relax after the day's events.

Slipping out of your wedding dress, you watched it slump on the cool floor and stepped out of your shoes. You released your hair and ran your fingers through it as you dipped one leg into the bath and then the other. The water dug into your skin, easing away at the tension in your muscles. A soft sigh of relief escaped past your lips, shoulders dipping below the surface. You leaned your head back against the wall of the tub, eyes fluttering shut and mind forgetting about the day.

You would've stayed in the tub for the rest of the night, even slept in it, if it hadn't been for the sound of the door creaking open. Your eyes snapped open and you lifted your head, gazing down at the water as heavy boots stepped across the room. Robb passed by the tub, shedding his coat and draping it over a chair. You brought your knees up to your chest when he turned.

"I thought you would've been asleep by now." He spoke softly, undoing the buttons of his vest. "Are you feeling better?"

The consummation. You nearly grimaced. "No."

"Should I call for a maester?"

"It's likely nerves, My Lord."

"We're husband and wife now. You may call me Robb." He gave a boyish smile and you turned to look at the towel perfectly folded on the stool beside you. You reached for it and let it unravel outside of the tub, eyes jumping back to the Stark. Robb's fingers had paused on the last button, attention trained fully on you but when he noticed the icy look, he turned his back. You stood, the water sloshing around as you dried yourself and retrieved a nightgown.

"I would like to sleep in my old room tonight. It's likely the last time I'll see it."

"I'd like to believe that, (Y/N). But I am no fool. I am your husband, you may speak openly with me." Your jaw clenched at his words. He claimed to be no fool yet remained oblivious to your anger. "And I hope you'll grow comfortable enough to sleep at my side."

Picking up a candle, you lifted it to the lantern keeping the room lit and pulled away once the fire flickered onto the end of the wax. "I believe your lover would prefer otherwise, My Lord. I bid you goodnight."

He blinked. "(Y/N)-"

"I bid you goodnight."

[claymoresword]

Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder. 

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm. 

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage. 

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods. 

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries. 

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

-

In truth, you were far from alright. 

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that. 

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl. 

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest. 

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable. 

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you. 

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.” 

Your brother appears less than convinced,  you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away. 

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence. 

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment. 

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner. 

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand. 

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her. 

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

-

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt. 

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs. 

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over. 

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold. 

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei. 

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly. 

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers. 

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath. 

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist. 

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her. 

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her. 

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity. 

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores. 

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life. 

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart. 

You would have been happy.

In another life. 

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room. 

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time. 

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her. 

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

**

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire. 

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days. 

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you. 

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch. 

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress. 

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug. 

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly. 

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond. 

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance. 

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

 Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her. 

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave. 

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other. 

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her. 

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process. 

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

**

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words. 

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen. 

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

[justmymindandstuff]

Promise - Jon Snow x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: You are a Lady from House Tully and Catelyn Starks ward. But you love her husband bastard son Jon and he loves you. Your relationship is a secret, but you don't care. But then Jon makes the decision to go to the Wall.

Warnings: implied first time, fluff, forbidden love

Words: 2.876

Gif not mine

English is not my frist language, so forgive me for my mistakes; not proof read. 

You sit in the warm room and work on a handcraft. Sansa sits next to you and you both listen to the Septa's words. She explains something about housekeeping and numbers to you and Sansa, but you get bored and Sansa also prefers to concentrate on her stitches. Lady lies at your feet, her eyes are closed and she makes a quiet hum every now and then. Arya, fortunately for her, had hidden before the lesson with the Septa began. She's probably wandering around Winterfell or watching her brothers training with their swords. You are jealous of her.

"Septa, can you please tell us something about the Prince?" asks Sansa. Since Lord and Lady Stark shared with you that the royal party are one their way to visit Winterfell Sansa can only think about the golden Prince Joffrey.

"No, you have more important topics to learn my dear child." the Septa answers.

There's a knock on the door and Jon pokes his head in. Sansa rolls her eyes at the sight of her „Bastard-Brother“.

“Excuse me, Lady Stark sent me to get Lady Y/N.” You put your work aside and stand up.

"We will make up for the lesson." says the Septa.

"Of course." You say, but know you won't mind hearing such boring facts again. "Shall we go for a walk with Lady later?" Sansa asks. The Direwolf opens her eyes when she hears her name, but doesn´t move.

"Yes, I'll come straight to you after I've been to your mother." you answer. You are Catelyn Stark's ward, the daughter of a distant cousin of the Tullys. After your mother died giving birth to your brother and your father was called to Kingslanding by King Robert, Catelyn and her family let you in their house and raise you like you are one of them.

Jon closes the door behind you and smiles at you. You both walk through the corridors.

"Do you know what Catelyn wants?"

"Nothing. It was a lie. Do you really thought Catelyn will send me to get you?"

You laugh. "You can´t do things like that." you say but you smile. "It´s dangerous."

"Is it?" he asks, grabs your hips and press you gently against the next wall.

"Jon no." you giggle but then you grab his hand and kiss him, his grip at your hip tightens. Suddenly you hear steps, you and Jon jump apart and he takes two steps back.

"Because of you we will get caught." You say, Jon holds his arm to you, and you rake under it.

"You kissed me My Lady."

"I am sorry my Lord." Jons gaze is a bit sad now and he opens his mouth but you already know what he wants to say.

"I´m not a Lord.” You are faster than him and he smiles. “I know but I don´t care."

"Do you want to go for a ride?" he changes the topic. 

"Of course."

"Good, meet me at the gates." Jon presses a light kiss at your lips and walks down the floor. You take a deep breath to calm down your heartbeat. Everytime you see him you have the feeling that your heart jumps out of your chest and in your stomach fly butterflies. You are madly in love with this man and you have the luck that he loves you too. You know it´s dangerous. He is a bastard and you are a Lady. Your Love is forbidden but you don´t care.

You walk through Winterfell, your home, to the gates. Ghost comes to you and nudges his snout into your hand. Behind the gates waits Jon with two horses. You take the reins from him and get on the horse. Jon also gets on his horse and together you ride off into the forest. It´s a bit cold, but you don´t care. You just enjoy the time you spend with Jon.

Jon stops in a clearing. "Let's take a break." You look at him a little confused, you two usually ride for hours through the forests around Winterfell. And it's usually you who ends up barely getting off the horse because your legs are stiff and hurt. Jon gets of his horse and comes to you to help you, but you don´t need his help. You jump from the horseback and land bevor your Lover.

"Not really Ladylike."

"Shut up Snow." you laugh, and he takes your hand in his.

"Usually, your word is my command." he kisses your hand. "But today I have to talk to you."

You look at him worried. "Something happened?" you ask. Jon sighs, taking your hand in one hand and the reins in the other. Then he starts walking, Ghost runs next to you. You're still waiting for an answer. "I spoke to father today. After the king came to visit, he allowed me to go to the wall."

You stop, forcing Jon to stop too.

"What?"

"It has always been my dream to go to the wall."

"You want to put on the black? You want to leave me?" you can´t believe what you´re hearing.

"No! No Y/N of course I don't want to leave you. But father says the king wants him as his hand. There is no other reason why he should travel north otherwise. And then I can't stay here."

"Robb wouldn't send you away."

"Of course not. But you know what Catelyn thinks of me, when father is gone it will only get worse and besides, what else do I have other than the wall?"

Tears come to your eyes. "You have me. But that doesn't seem to be that important to you." you pull your hand away.

"No! Y/N please. Listen to me okay. Please let me explain."

"What do you want to explain? Why you are leaving me? I don´t want to hear it." You say angrily, you don't want him to leave you. "You said you loved me!"

"I love you."

"You don't leave the person you love."

Now tears come to Jon's eyes too. "What choice do I have?"

"You can stay here with me."

"And then? Continue to hide? Continue to meet in secret? Secret kisses and always being afraid of being caught? In the worst-case Catelyn catches us and she will demand my head."

"No she won't! I'll explain to her that we love each other."

"You know her, she will not listen to you."

"Is that what you care about? Is it fear? Do you not want to see me anymore? But please, don´t leave our home."

"I love you! I can't even spend a day away from you without it tearing me up inside." He pulls you towards him and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is full of passion and love and you cling to him like you'll never see him again. You break apart breathless. Jon rests his forehead against yours and looks deep into your eyes.

“Please believe me that I love you and that I don't want to leave you. But I'm a bastard Y/N, there's hardly a place for me in this world. But I will have a place and a task at the Wall."

"I believe you. But I don't understand why you want to leave. You have a place in Winterfell. Your place is at my side. Isn't that enough for you? Am I not enough for you?"

"Of course." Tears run down your cheeks. Jon carefully wipes them away with his thumbs. “But we both know, someday you will leave Winterfell to marry some old Lord. And then I have nothing left. The Wall is my only way out, even if I have to leave you for it. It is better like this, for both of us.“ It feels like he's leaving you already “Please Y/N please don’t be mad at me and try to understand why I have to leave.”

"I'll try it."

"Let's ride back. You have a meeting with Sansa."

"Now I don't feel like walking anymore."

"I'm sorry. But I just wanted to explain my decision to you."

You nod and you head back to Winterfell. You stay silent the whole way back, you have a lot to think about. Shortly before you arrive, you part ways and you are the first to ride into the courtyard of Winterfell. Jon will follow you after a while.

Sansa comes towards you. "There you are." she calls. "We wanted to go for a walk."

"I'm not feeling so well, Sansa." you say, getting off the horse and walking past her. Sansa looks at you a little confused, but she doesn't say anything else.

Your thoughts revolve around Jon and his decision to go to the Wall.

You try to understand why he wants to leave. And even if you don't really want to admit it to yourself, you can understand his reasons.

You walk towards your room when Arya approaches you.

"Hello Y/N." Arya says happily when she sees you.

"Hello little wolf." You say, forcing a smile on your lips for her. "You weren't at the class with the Speta this morning."

"Yes, I managed to escape." laughs Arya.

"You shouldn't neglect your classes."

"I know."

"I won't tell your mother under one condition."

"What do you want?"

"Come with me and read something to me. You read so well, please Arya."

She rolls her eyes. She hates these things, actually she hates everything that has nothing to do with swords and bows. "Fine." she then agrees. The two of you make your way to your room, you take the book you are currently reading and give it to Arya. It's a silly fairy tale about love, but when Arya starts reading you close your eyes and imagine it's your story. Your love story with Jon.

--

And then the day comes. The worst day of your life! Today the royal Party will leave Winterfell and with them Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. Originally you should travel with Lord Stark and his daughters to Kings Landing, but after Bran fell from a tower, you stay behind with Catelyn and Robb. 

You are awake long before the sun will rise, but you couldn´t stay in bed. You get dressed and leave your room. You walk through the corridors up to Jons room. You are not often here, the danger of being caught is far too great, but today nothing matters anymore. You knock at his door, it takes a moment and then he opens the door. He stands in front of you and looks at you in surprise.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

You try to ignore his bare chest and step inside his room.

“I couldn´t sleep and I wanted to say goodbye to you. Before we doesn´t have time for us anymore.” Tears well up in your eyes. You had prayed to the gods that this day will never come, but now there is nothing you can do anymore than watch the love of your life leave.

Jon smiles at you. “I am glade, that you are here, but what if someone sees you?”

“I don´t care.”

“You should.”

“No. Everything I care about is that we only have hours left together.” You reach up to him and kiss his lips.

Jon kisses you back for a second, but than he pulls away. “Y/N.” he sighs and looks at you with sad eyes.

“No. I don´t want to be sad now. Please. We only have a few hours left together. I don´t want to waste them.”

Jon strokes your cheek and smiles. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. Forever.”

Jon kisses you again, you wrap your arms around his neck. Jon wraps his arms around your body and pulls you closer to him. The kiss is full of love and affection. You know he loves you and he know you love him. Even if your love is forbidden, even if everything speaks against your love. Nobody can take this away form you. Not a King, not a Lord or the Wall.

Your hands run over his bare chest.

His lips move to your neck, and you have to suppress a moan. His touch sets a fire inside you. You know this feeling, Jon has triggered this feeling in you again and again.

His hands roam over your back and then in front and over your arms. Jon pulls away from you, breathing heavily. His eyes sparkle and his lips meet yours again. Just for a second and then he pulls away.

"You have to go."

"Why."

"If you stay any longer, I can't promise anything anymore."

"I don't want you to promise me anything." you kiss him again, this time demanding and passionate. Your hands bury themselves in his hair and Jon groans.

"We can´t." He whispers against your lips and then kisses you again. His hands roam over your body and you get goosebumps all over your body.

"I know what you're afraid of, Jon. But don't worry."

Jon looks at you for a moment. You can see in his face that he is thinking.

And then he kisses you passionately. His hands are all over your body. You snuggle up against him and moan under his touch. "Are you sure?" he asks breathless.

"Yes. I've never been so sure."

You turn around, Jon kisses your neck as he undoes the laces of your dress. It falls to the floor and you shiver.

You've never experienced anything like what you had with Jon that morning. It was loving, tender and beautiful.

You lie together on his bed. The sun rises and you hear the first servants walking across the hallways. Jon’s hand gently strokes your bare shoulder.

"We have to get up." you say.

"I don't want this moment to be over."

"I don't want it either." You turn to him and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Jon.” It's just a whisper in the room, but to you it means everything. No one can take your time with Jon away from you, even if he leaves you today.

“Y/N.” Jon's voice is suddenly serious. "I will travel to the Wall today and I will put on the black. But I want to promise you something. I promise you that we will see each other again." He kisses your forehead and now you can't hold back the tears. "Don't cry my lady."

"I'm trying My." you interrupt yourself. “My Jon.”

--

You stand next to Catelyn in the courtyard to say goodbye to the king and his entourage. And to say goodbye to Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and Jon. You hardly dare to look Jon in the eyes. You try to hold back the tears, but you can't quite manage it. A few tears roll down your cheeks, but you can blame it on the fact that you're going to miss Sansa and Arya so much.

The royal party starts moving and Jon also turns his horse towards the gate. But before he leaves Winterfell he turns around again, and your eyes meet. You look into his eyes one last time. He nods slightly at you and smiles. It's a sad smile, but you know what it means. I love you and this farewell isn´t forever. You will see each other again.

The gates close and you stand alone in the courtyard, and for the first time since you have been in Winterfell, you are actually cold. For the first time in your live you feel lonely. Caytlin says something to you, but you don´t hear what she said. You turn around and run into your room. You lock the door behind you and fall weakly onto your bed. Tears immediately stream down your cheeks, and you feel like your heart is tearing apart in your chest. He is gone. He is really gone.

--

The cold wind blows around your ears and you pull the fur collar of your cloak further up. You take a deep breath and ride towards the gate of Castle Black. You stop just before the gate and get off your horse. Your steps slowly carry you forward.

“Who are you?” a strange voice came from behind the gate.

“Lady Y/N, from Winterfell. I want to see Jon Snow.” Your voice trembles, but you´re almost there. You´re almost with him.

It takes a short moment and then the gate open and you can step into the courtyard of Castle Black. A lot of strange man look at you. You look around nervously. Your hair is messy, and your dress is covered in dirt and the hem is soaked in blood. Robbs blood.

“Y/N.” his voice flows through you, you turn around and looks at him. Jon comes down the stairs and runs across the yard to you. Before he even reaches you, tears are running down your cheeks. Finally, he wraps you in his arms again. You take a deep breath. His scent, so familiar and yet so strange, envelops you. For the first time since you left the Twins you feel safe.

“Please never leave me again.” You whisper in his ear.

“Never. I promise.”

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere mother-in-law Catelyn Stark(Tully) and daughter-in-law reader and yandere husband Robb Stark.

~ You may have been involved in the life of the Starks for several reasons. Perhaps you are the Lady of a great house and are betrothed or arranged for an alliance with Robb. Or you are placed in the custody of the Starks. However, you can also be one of the normal folk. Your social status and financial situation do not matter at all.

~ Robb feels like his heart is going to explode when he first meets you. He will most likely be so excited that he stutters while talking to you. Catelyn is the first to notice the change in Robb's behavior. She understands the reason for son's behavior when she meets you. Catelyn immediately goes into mother chicken mode. So she's starting to see you as her own daughter.

~ Robb is trying to get to know you better. He works harder to impress you. Catelyn fully supports her son's behavior. Catelyn gets in the way when Eddard tries to warn his son. You spend time with Catelyn and her daughters. Catelyn praises her son at every opportunity. Robb gets angry when other men approach you, especially Jon and Theon. Catelyn is definitely keeping Jon and Theon away from you. The only man worthy of you in her eyes is her own son.

~ Catelyn is taking good care of you. He presents you with dresses and jewelry. He often calls you "dauhter". She gives you advice on many things. She likes to comb, style and braid your hair.

~ Robb presents you with very soft furs to keep you warm. He obtains these furs from the animals he specially hunts. He buys gifts for you and sends them to your room. He is trying to prove himself while training.

~ Catelyn and Robb worry a lot when you get sick and injured. They literally go into panic mode. They don't leave you until you heal. They take great care of your health and safety. They always make sure you get enough sleep and eat.

~ The wedding will be arranged perfectly. Catelyn and Robb won't allow a post-wedding bedtime ceremony. Catelyn is preparing you for the wedding night herself. It reassures you of all your fears about your first night with Robb. Robb will be as courteous as he can on the first night.

~ They won't want you to talk to your family much anymore after you become Stark. You will even be able to send letters to your family with a certain number of letters. Your family gets angry when you get away from them when guests come. Catelyn gets jealous when you call your own mom.

~ Robb and Catelyn really want new babies to join the family. Every pregnancy news makes them very happy. Robb really wants a lot of kids. They become overprotective of you when you are pregnant. The best masters and midwives take care of you during pregnancy and childbirth.

~ Every child you give birth to is loved by them. Your children are spoiled. Catelyn takes great pleasure in taking care of her grandchildren. Catelyn will be with you at every birth. She holds your hand until the baby is born and says supportive words to you.

~ Most of the time you are in your room. You are allowed to go out when you have Catelyn or the guards with you. Robb never yells at you, doesn't say bad words, and doesn't raise his hand. Their greatest punishment is guilt and manipulation. It is one of the punishments in isolation.

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

What Sansa Stark would wear

October 27th

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, triggers, violence, blood, death and swearing

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

🌿ISTP 🍁Slytherin or Hufflepuff - can be debated.  📜Chaotic Neutral 🔮Aries Sun, Taurus Moon, Scorpio Rising

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Nad Dunaem by DakhaBrakha

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

One Showing Kindness (You) x The Other Choosing To Become Kinder, As Redemption (Sandor)

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

“Shut Up” x “Make Me”

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔

Acts of Service. Likes to do things for you - making sure you’re fed and hydrated. Cuts up logs for the fire, and makes sure it’s always burning. 

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Sansa specifically asked for the both of you to join her council right after her coronation

・Technically lowborn, your family had been loyal to House Stark for generations

・And when ... well when it all went to shit, you were forced to flee.

・For years you didn’t know what became of your family. But you did hold onto the knowledge that was passed down from generation to generation

・Not just about the physical world, but the spiritual, and the natural. 

・Your family was initially so close to the Starks’ because of your usefulness, but over hundreds of years, your family proved their allegiance 

・You grew up with the Stark children as your mother was a close companion of Cateyln’s (when she first came to Winterfell as a newlywed, she felt very lost. Your mother was the same age and showed her the ways of the North)

・Arya and Sansa were like sisters to you. But you were always caught in the middle of their bickering. You were the eldest of four siblings, having two other brothers and a younger sister. She was only a baby when Nedd Stark went to King’s Landing. 

・It wasn’t easy, surviving all those years on your own. But you did it. You endured. 

・After acquiring a job as a barmaid, you heard all the gossip and news the war

・You protected yourself with a hidden dagger underneath your skirts, and always wore a ring which held poison. Like a locket ring. 

・In all honesty, no one fucked with you because of it. And your reputation grew. 

・Women would come to you in the early hours of the morning, wanting an array of things. Herbs for birth control, poison for violent husbands, drafts to aid in sleep, ingredients to churn someone’s guts. 

・Your boss didn’t mind at first, but he thought you were creating too much attention. 

・But your boss’s wife liked you, and she helped you until one day a young Arya Stark trudged into the tavern with a tall scarred man. 

・It didn’t take her long to recognise you, and within minutes she had knocked over a pitcher of ale and threw herself into your arms

・She demanded that you came with them, and the rest is history...

・The relationship between you and Sandor was rocky in the beginning. You thought he was too abrasive and harsh. Arya, already used to it, just shrugged her shoulders when you called him out on it

・Even though you knew his reputation, you didn’t care. You had packed your belongings and had your own set of weapons that could kill him. 

・He knew that.

・And he was ... honestly impressed

・Arya loved the dynamic between you two. And although she would never admit it, she loved when you fussed over her - your big sister instincts kicking in. 

・It took you a while to realise Sandor’s love languages. Arya had to point out when he was ‘being nice’. 

・But you saw something in him that he didn’t see in himself. And you fell in love 

・When Sansa asked you to be on her council, Sandor was really proud of you, but it took him a long time to accept his position. He didn’t think he was worthy of it. 

・”We’ve all made mistakes,” Sansa told him one evening when the three of you were dining together. “You can atone by accepting my offer.”  

・You don’t have an official title, as you dabble in many areas of Winterfell. But you’re the connection to the people, and also the natural world. An advisor, and Maester in training. 

・Sandor’s official title is, ‘Master-at-Arms’ / ‘Commander’. He’s responsible for training soldiers, giving military advice and choosing the guards of Winterfell. 

・Sansa also has a council of Bannermen, who are present when very important decisions are made. (Sandor hates nearly every single one of them.) 

・You were going to have a little cottage somewhere warmer (because Sandor doesn’t like the cold), but the position was ... too perfect. Being with Sansa, living in Winterfell, it was home. 

・If Sansa travels to King’s Landing, she wants you and Sandor to come with her. She feels safe when the pair of you are around her. Sansa has PTSD (although not known as that), and can get triggered when men get too physically close. 

・You’ve taught Sansa about herbs, plants, poisions and cures. The old Sansa never listened, thought it was too boring. But now, she listens intently, and has endless questions. 

・Sansa offered to rebuild your family home, but it hurt too much. Until ... two years later, when your youngest brother and sister found their way back home. 

・Sandor was unsure of this reunion. He wanted to make sure they were who they said they were. 

・But you knew. 

・Yes, in your gut you knew. But your brother and sister had specific birth marks and physical oddities which set them aside since birth. 

・Arya travelled back to Winterfell when she found out, as did Jon Snow. Even though he was labelled a bastard during your childhoods, your family was still lowborn as well. 

・So on numerous occassions, your family had invited Jon Snow to sup with them. 

・Sandor didn’t think his life would be like this. He didn’t think he would make it this far or that he deserved the love you gave him. 

・And when your siblings came along, they too grew love for Sandor. He offered to train both your siblings (because he thought both men and women should know how to defend themsleves). 

・You slowly found out the horrors that your siblings endured, and at nights you cried to Sandor. 

・You became a family again. 

・And like the generations before you, your family was once again faithful to the ruler in the North. 

[hd-junglebook]

From Beyond The Wall

Part 1

The wind begins to howl mournfully, swirling snowflakes dancing in the air like lost spirits. The mountain remained still as night began to fall, leaving the brothers of the nights watch in the darkness of the north.

The fire crackles weakly, struggling against the encroaching cold, casting long shadows that flicker and dance across the frozen ground.

"Can you feel it, Jon?" one brother mutters, his teeth chattering as he huddles closer to the feeble warmth.

"A storm's coming. I can smell it in the air." Jon, his cloak pulled tight around him, nods solemnly. "Aye, a blizzard's upon us. We'll need to find better shelter if we're to survive the night."

In the cover of darkness beyond the glow of the fire, Y/n and her group lurk like shadows, their breath forming wisps of vapor in the frigid air. Ygritte, her fiery hair barely visible in the dim light, leans in close to Y/n, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We strike now, while they're weak and unprepared," she says, her blue eyes gleaming with determination. "We'll catch them by surprise, before the blizzard engulfs us all."

Y/n nods, her fingers tightening around the reins of her white horse, its breath steaming in the cold night air. "Agreed. Move on my signal.”

Y/n continue to watch in silence, glancing between the brothers and the free folk. She nodded to Ygritte, grasping her bow from the leather pouch. Y/n and her group emerge from the darkness, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled by the howling wind.

The brothers of the Night's Watch startle at the sudden onslaught, scrambling for their weapons as Y/n's group descends upon them like a winter storm unleashed.

"Take no prisoners!" Ygritte's voice rings out above the chaos, her bow singing as she looses arrow after arrow into the heart of the fray. the blizzard finally descends in full force, swallowing the scene in a swirling white blanket of snow and ice.

After a few minutes of the bloody onslaught Jon realizes his efforts were pointless as he is now surrounded.

Confused and heaving out heavy breaths he looks around to grasp his situation. He pauses mid turn at the sight of Y/n dismounting her horse gracefully, still holding her bow.

“Hold.” she raises her hand, signaling for them to hold their fire. The clash of swords and the cries of men fade into the background as Jon's gaze meets hers, his eyes locked on her figure clad in a fur cloak and a dress as white as the snow.

She approaches Jon with purpose, her footsteps leaving shallow imprints in the fresh snow. The wind tugs at her cloak, sending strands of hair swirling around her face like tendrils of shadow.

“Who are you?” he mumbles out, trying to find the words. He raises his hands slowly, his eyes flicking between Y/n and the members of her group surrounding him.

Y/n's lips curl into a confident smile as she keeps her arrow trained on Jon. "I am Y/n, Princess of the Free Folk," she declares, her voice ringing out clear despite the howling wind.

Jon's eyes widen in surprise at her proclamation, a flicker of realization dawning in his expression. He lowers his hands slowly, his gaze never leaving Y/n's face. "Princess of the Free Folk," he repeats, as if testing the words on his tongue.

Y/n nods, her grip tightening on her bow. "Indeed. And now, I command you to throw down your weapon and stand," she orders, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jon hesitates for a moment, his gaze darting between Y/n and the looming figures of her group. But then, with a resigned sigh, he unclasps his sword belt and lets it fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

He stands tall, meeting Y/n's gaze, she studies Jon Snow intently as he stands before her, his demeanor composed despite the circumstances. "And who are you, truly?" Y/n asks, her voice softened but still firm.

Jon's gaze remains fixed on her, his expression unreadable behind the mask of snowflakes that cling to his beard. "I am Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch," he replies. A laugh escapes her at the name. “Mhmm snow. You’re a Stark. Ned Starks bastard son.”

Hearing her call his name and addressing him as a Stark made his heart skip a beat. Yet he remained cautious, seeing how easily the wildings obeyed her. “I am…How did you know?” he asked, as he slowly took a step back.

“It’s not me who knows, its my brother. what business does the Night's Watch have this far beyond the Wall? Us wildings? White walkers?” He nods to both causing her to sigh.

Y/n turns to her companions, her gaze sweeping over them with authority. "Tie him up. We're bringing him home," she commands, her voice firm and resolute.

He is stunned by her order, his body freezes still where he stands. The wildlings nod in silent acknowledgment, swiftly moving to obey Y/n's orders.

They bind Jon Snow's hands tightly with rope, ensuring he poses no immediate threat as they prepare to escort him back to their camp.

Y/n's eyes then find Ygritte, who stands nearby, her bow at the ready. "Ygritte, you'll watch him from now on," Y/n instructs, her voice carrying a note of trust.

"Make sure he doesn't try anything foolish." They hand the rope to Ygritte, who accepts it with a nod of gratitude.

With a swift motion, she mounts her horse, her cloak billowing behind her like a banner of authority. As she settles into the saddle, her eyes meet Jon's, and there's a flicker of something unspoken between them, a tension that crackles in the frigid air like lightning.

"Let's go," she commands, her voice cutting through the howling wind. "We have to make it back before dawn."

Jon's heart races as he watches her, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. A sudden chill runs through his back, he struggles against his restraints, approaching your horse slowly. “You really won’t say anything, huh? Just going to tie me up and drag me with you.”

Y/n meets his gaze, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “That’s how I like my men, Snow.” She stated with a devious grin. A cold look appears on his face immediately realizing what she meant by those words. Yet all he can do is be silent and follow behind you, keeping up as his body is pushed every which way by the pelting snow.

…

They finally reach the Wildling camp, Y/n dismounts her horse with a graceful ease and gives her horse a gentle pat on the neck, murmuring words of gratitude as she glances toward the towering big tent that serves as the heart of their encampment.

The women of the camp emerged from their makeshift shelters, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they danced with their children under the fading light of the day.

Giants lumbered about, their massive forms silhouetted against the twilight sky as they worked alongside the Free Folk, tending to the needs of the camp with quiet efficiency.

With a nod to Ygritte, who stands by Jon Snow's side with a watchful gaze, Y/n orders, "Bring the crow with you." she takes hold of Jon's arm, guiding him towards the tent alongside her.

Pushing open the flap of the tent, Y/n steps inside, the warmth of the fire within enveloping her like a comforting embrace.

Ygritte and Jon enter behind her, Y/n's gaze sweeps over the assembled group, taking in the familiar faces of her companions, as well as the curious glances directed towards their captive.

“Oh dear brother. I have a gift.” Mance, ever the troubadour, sat in a corner, his fingers strumming a haunting melody on his lute, the notes drifting through the air like whispers on the wind, weaving a tale of a Dornish woman's forbidden love.

He departs from his pregnant wife’s side. "What's this?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over Ygritte, Rattleshirt, and the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "A crow?"

“Ygritte found the crow, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell!” she introduced. “Release him.” With a collective nod, Ygritte moves to obey, her hands deftly untying the ropes that bind Jon's wrists before pushing him forward.

Mance's piercing blue eyes fix on Jon, assessing him with a shrewd intensity. "A crow," he remarks, his voice low and measured. "What brings you so far beyond your Wall?"

Jon meets Mance's gaze with a steady stare, his jaw set with determination. "I seek answers," he replies, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "Answers about the darkness that threatens to engulf us all."

Mance nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what answers do you hope to find here, among the Free Folk?"

Jon's gaze flickers with resolve as he speaks. "I seek allies," he declares, his voice ringing out clear and strong. "Allies in the fight against the true enemy, the Night King and his army of the dead."

A murmur ripples through the gathered Wildlings at Jon's words, their faces reflecting a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Mance, however, remains impassive, his gaze fixed on Jon with a calculating intensity.

"Allies," he repeats, his voice echoing in the tense silence of the tent. "The Night's Watch and the Free Folk, united against a common foe. A bold proposition, Jon Snow. But one that may yet prove to be our salvation."

…

The conversation with Mance concludes and the orders are given, Y/n watches as Ygritte leads Jon Snow and his direwolf away from the tent.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n turns away, her steps leading her back to her own tent. She sheds her fur cloak with a weary grace, allowing it to fall to the ground as she settles onto the floor, her legs crossed beneath her.

Closing her eyes, Y/n takes a deep breath, centering herself before allowing her mind to drift into the depths of warging. As her consciousness expands, she feels the pull of the nearby animals, their instincts calling out to her in the darkness.

With a gentle push, Y/n's spirit leaves her body, merging with that of a nearby fox. She feels the rush of freedom as she darts through the snow-covered landscape, her senses heightened by the wildness of her new form.

She approaches the bodies of the fallen Black Brothers, a sudden movement jolts her back to reality. The fox springs back in fear, its eyes locking with those of a figure rising from the snow.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she stares into the ice-blue eyes of the reanimated corpse. The corpse lunges forward as it reaches out with cold dead hands.

With a burst of speed, the fox races southward, its breath coming in ragged gasps as it flees from the looming threat. Y/n's eyes snap open abruptly, her breath coming out raggedly as she sits up. She dons her fur cloak once more, the fabric billowing around her like a protective barrier against the biting cold.

Rushing from her tent, Y/n heads straight for Mance, her footsteps quick and purposeful in the snow. She finds him surrounded by his advisors, deep in conversation about their next move. "Mance, we need to leave now," Y/n declares, her voice urgent as she approaches him.

Mance turns to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We've just arrived at our camp. Surely we can afford to rest for a while."

But Y/n shakes her head adamantly, her eyes flashing with determination. "No, Mance. We can't afford to stay here any longer, thinking about Dalla" she insists, her voice unwavering.

Mance studies her for a moment, weighing her words carefully. But then, with a resigned sigh, he nods in reluctant agreement. "Very well, Y/n," he concedes, "We'll leave in a few days."

…

Y/n stood before the gathered clans, her hair blowing in the biting gusts as she surveyed the uneasy faces staring back at her.

"As you know, the white walkers arise once more from the dead," she called out, her voice carrying over the murmurs that rippled through the crowd. "As your Princess, I swear to lead you safely to the Wall."

She continued, her tone firm, "My brother has brought together the Free Folk like no one has before." Gesturing to Mance, who stood with his wife behind her, she emphasized, "But winter is coming—the harshest in memory. The dead will rise to join the White Walkers' army. They will not wait for spring!"

The truth of her words sank in among the Free Folk, glances exchanged as the severity of the situation settled upon them. Mance stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"The princess speaks true," he declared, his voice carrying authority. "The Wall is our only refuge against the storm. We must begin the march at once... before it is too late."

Agreement murmured through the clans, and Y/n nodded gratefully to Mance. Drawing her furs tighter against the cold, she caught sight of Jon Snow, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment before flickering away.

…

In the wake of her stirring speech, preparations for the journey to the Wall began in earnest. The clans bustled with activity, packing supplies, sharpening weapons, and tending to their families in anticipation of the arduous trek ahead.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light over the rugged landscape, and the distant howls of wolves echoed through the valleys.

It was there, in the quiet stillness of the night, that Y/n encountered her brother's pregnant wife once more. She stood alone, her silhouette outlined against the moonlit horizon, a solitary figure in the darkness.

"Are you all right?" Y/n asked softly as she turned to face her, her expression unreadable in the dim light. Y/n walked closer to where she was standing, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. "I'm fine," she replied curtly.

Y/n studied her for a moment, sensing the weight of her burden in the lines of her face and the tension in her shoulders. There was a distance between them, a chasm that seemed insurmountable.

"I wanted to thank you," Y/n said earnestly, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them. "For standing with me back there. Your support means more to me than you know."

Her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth in the depths of her eyes. "You don't have to thank me," she replied, her voice gentle. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not." There was a moment of quiet understanding between them as they stood together beneath the starlit sky.

…

give me some feedback, i'd like to know if this sucks lol

[remitheremit]

(MASSIVE WARNING: infant death, and characters death. Violence towards baby)

“Mama?” Blood should never litter hands so tiny, never should blood be seen by those tiny blue eyes- nativity filled them as she patted at her mothers face, unintentionally spreading her mothers blood.

Catelyn’s unresponsive corpse laid in a growing puddle of her own blood, spilling from the slit in her throat. Despite her limp form nothing was stronger but her arms holding her babe to her chest. Cat wanted nothing more in the seconds of her, and Robb’s- and Talia’s death then to save her child. Her sweet babe, her tiny (y/n). Months after Neds execution, and the relentless wars in the realm (y/n) and Cat only truly had each other. It wasn’t uncommon to see the babe wrapped to her mother chest as she bickered over war plans, or to see the two snuggled beneath the covers in their war tent.

What Cat did realize, was that their was no loyalty at this wedding, none that could save her babe. As a last stitch attempt she held (y/n) as close as possibly to her chest as if she could sink the babe inside of her- hiding her away before any violence befell against her.

Of course, it did. The appearance of a man above her and her mother took (y/n) off of attempting to get her mothers attention, to peering up at this stranger. The notice of the screams, blood, and not only her brothers corpse but hundreds scattered about the perimeter. Tears spurred down fast as he attempted to pry her from her mothers cold, dead arms- her last ditch attempt to save her daughter but instead of prying further the man was happy to do his duty in a uncomfortable position.

A rupturing shriek filled the air when he reached the dagger into (y/n) Stark chest- her tiny cavity that stood no more wider then a few inches. Once he pulled out the bloodied weapon the babe was silent, peering down he left the mother and daughter alone.

[wholelottawidows]

"he is my son! my first son!" </3

[hiatuswhore]

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 — ɢᴏᴛ

A/n: So I am watching Game of Thrones for the first time and I always knew it would be an emotional commitment but damn. The Red Wedding put me in SHAMBLES. I know I’m super late to this fandoms but I’m currently on season six and could not get this fic out of my head until I wrote it. FEEDBACK please! So I’m gonna go watch some more episodes and then email therapist, thanks:)

SUMMARY: Oh to be young and in love. Foolish really, in the Game of Thrones there’s no room for love. Only life and death.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNING: Season 3 spoilers and Season 4 spoilers.

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The cries that leave her lips are unlike anything Jon has ever heard from her before. He grabs her arms, steadying her as her legs wobble beneath her weight. The cry of the twins drowns into nothing as Jon listens to her sobs in his arms. Samwell coos at the children to ease their sorrow, but they mimic their mother.

“(Y/n), you must gather yourself for your children,” Jon says as she buries herself into his shoulder.

“They have every reason to weep. If anyone learns who they are, who I am, Jon you know we will never be left in peace,” The room stills as Samwell calms the children. His smile falters at (Y/n)’s words, the giggling of the children filling the silence, “Jon?”

He says nothing as he waits for her to speak. Instead, she stares at the twins for several seconds. Eddard’s eyes twinkle as he giggles at the sight of his mother but not his sister. Raina stares as if she understands the news her mother receives, the blue of her eyes and the pull of her eyebrows reminding the world of her father.

“Where’s his body? Where is Catelyn’s body?” Jon inhales sharply, his body tensing as (Y/n) observes him. He tries to assure her that she does not want to know, “Please. I will never get closure if I do not know.”

“They—“He takes a deep breath, glancing at the twins again. Robb shines in his daughter’s eyes as his son wears his gentle stare. Jon’s gaze shifts to (Y/n), pulling her into a sudden hug before he speaks, “They stripped Catelyn naked and threw her body in the river. Robb was beheaded, and they sewed Grey Wind’s head onto his body.”

(Y/n)’ s eyes flutter shut as she grips Jon tightly. The two say nothing as they hold each other. After seconds? Minutes? Hours? (Y/n) pulls back, her voice thick with tears, “Robb always did say I have a pesky habit of being right.”

“(Y/n), you’re back!” Arya rushes to her side, nearly tackling the transient to the ground. “How long are you staying this time? I’ve been practicing what you showed me with shooting arrows. If my father says yes, will you teach me swordplay and hunting like you?”

“Arya, slow down, (Y/n) just arrived, and you crowd her,” The young Stark girl pouts as Robb cuts her short.

“Quite frankly, it is you who crowds me,” (Y/n) crosses her arms, joining Arya’s side, who grins devilishly. Robb closes the space between himself and (Y/n), ignoring his younger sister entirely.

“The seconds I take my eye off of you, you find yourself gone by the fortnight usually less,” Robb says, flicking your necklace holding a Stark sigil pendant, “Nothing has changed. I still intend to marry you.”

His face mere inches from her, she ignores how Arya stomps away, grumbling about her brother. (Y/n) studies his features as she wets her lips with her tongue. Robb watches with his mouth ajar as his eyes focus on her lips. She leans in painstakingly slow with a smirk tugging at her mouth. The moment their lips meet, hers take his own fervently, and she pulls away without warning.

She speaks in an enchanting whisper, with Robb clinging to her presence, “We will never wed, my wolf.”

“You were going to marry. Robb loved you more than anything,” Jon runs his hand down her arm before retreating entirely.

“It does not matter. We did not, and now I raise bastards that the crown will want dead. Descendants of a traitor and usurper,” Eddard calls out Mama holding up his hand to show nothing but slobber and dirt. A weak smile takes her lips at her children, but tired eyes plague her.

“They are Starks, and so are you. Smart and Resilient. The grandchildren of the honorable Eddard Stark, the hand of the King. Son and daughter of Robb Stark, King of the North,” He watches as her eyes do not leave her children. Raina’s unwavering stare, just as intense as her mother's. (Y/n) chuckles wryly, looking off at nothing—her mind elsewhere.

“Are you going to marry my brother?” Sansa asks the second her mother leaves the room. (Y/n) laughs asking if all the Starks await her answer.

“Of course we do. You are perfect for each other; you must be together!” The young girl exclaims, unaware of how cold the real world can be. (Y/n) smiles softly, stuck between pitying and envying the beautiful young Stark.

“You love, love stories, Sansa?” The question pulls an enthusiastic nod from the young girl, “That is the thing, Sansa, they are only stories. Marrying your brother and becoming a Stark is a big decision. Much larger than just love.”

“But one day, you’ll be the Lady of Winterfell. You’ll make little Stark Lords and Ladies. You’ll be happy here,” Sansa’s hopeful smile spreads like a contagion. (Y/n) offers a weak smile, requesting a moment alone in her chambers. At the shut of her door, she stands in front of her mirror, hand on her necklace, allowing a long sigh to pass through her.

“What am I to do, Mother? What would you do?” Her hand on her necklace, running her finger over the pendant she added a few years back.

"I should have heard the advice I tried to teach Sansa. Love stories are merely stories,” She runs her hands over her face as Jon mulls over the past few years. He frowns, unable to phantom the thought of all she must have endured leading up to their reunion at Craster’s Keep. Jon’s sure she was not alone with her children, as she claims.

“You’re wrong,” His voice is low and gruff with a hint of a matter-of-fact tone as Samwell lulls the twins to sleep. She narrows her eyes at the stoic man with skepticism in his eyes.

“Not a chance Jon Snow lectures me on love,” She says, failing to see how Samwell quietly listens in.

“The last time I spoke to Robb, he grinned ear to ear after announcing the betrothal. When we all thought Theon had killed you I sent out a raven but I never heard back from Robb. People say he was devastated. Just because it ended in tragedy does not change the fact your story was one of love.”

She peeks up at Robb as he leans on his elbow, carefully tracing a finger down her spine. The fire and furs keep the room warm as the two lay bare and tangled. Robbs' eyebrows pull together, focusing intently.

“What is on the wolf's mind?” His traces halt before he meets her gaze, a smile painting his lips at the sight of her. The firelight makes her eyes shine, only adding to the features he already finds mesmerizing.

“My father is the hand of the King, so I must assume the responsibilities of Lord of Winterfell,” Robb speaks in a low hum as he studies her face. A sardonic smile takes her lips as a glint shines in her eyes.

“Oh no, Lord of Winterfell! The horror!” (Y/n) rolls away, giggling as Robb playfully grabs her. She struggles beneath his weight until his hands pin her wrists above her head. The following pause consists of heavy panting as she smiles at him. Robb’s smile softens as he catches his breath. The look in his eyes far different than his usual longing stares.

“Sansa is set to marry the Prince. Arya will likely marry some high Lord, and Jon is taking the black. Things are changing (Y/n). I want this, us. Lord and Lady Stark. One day Warden and Wardeness of the North,” Robb loosens his grip on her wrists as he near begs. (Y/n) made sure to steer clear during the arrival of the King and his family. The King, Lord Stark, and the girls were set to leave for Kings Landing and Jon for Castle Black in the morning.

“Why are you so certain in us?” She speaks barely above a whisper as Robb joins her, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Because I know you, and I can make you happy. A simple life in Winterfell. Name a better match than us,” He challenges, saying his parents' names; the two of you chuckle quietly. The two falling quiet as she imagines the life Robb envisions for her in the North.

She does not dwell on the matter for long; staring up at the ceiling at his side, she cannot deny enjoying his presence. (Y/n) breaks the silence with amusement lacing her tone, “Your family is going to kill us for announcing this just before everyone leaves.”

Robb's head snaps in her direction as if she will disappear when he takes his eyes off her. She bites back her lower lip to reel in the giant smile that threatens her features. It takes Robb a few seconds to process her words before he cups her face. He grins like a madman as he captures her lips into a hasty kiss.

“Let’s marry with all your family in attendance,” She breathes in between kisses as he smothers her with his own lips.

“Our family,” He murmurs against her mouth as she places a gentle hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“You’re rather eager,” She teases; leaning close, he studies her thoroughly. Before holding a mocking tone and wide smile that glimmers in the low light, “We have a very serious responsibility of creating little Lords and Ladies of Winterfell.”

“Oh really?” Her playful smirk and soft chuckle erase all worries of the Starks heading to King's Landing.

“Of course, my Lady. When we have a girl, we shall name her Raina after your mother,” His words make her smile falter, her hand shooting to her necklace, “When she gets older, you can pass your necklace to her.”

“And if we have a boy?” Her eyes mist over as she covers with a gentle smile at his excitement.

“When we have a boy, little Robb Stark, will be second of his name!” Robb’s eyes twinkle as she rolls her own.

“Absolutely not,” She says, rolling to her opposite side, back facing the smirking Stark. He carefully kisses the crook of her neck, journeying up to the shell of her ear. His voice low and raspy, “I’m not done with you yet, Lady Stark.”

The door flying open makes the three rise to their feet. Ser Allister yells at Jon and Samwell that the Wildlings are coming. (Y/n) lifts the twins quickly, managing to not rouse them from their slumber, her sword dangling on her hip.

“Follow me. You can stay with Gilly and Little Sam,” Samwell says cheerily despite the circumstances as Robb exits the room first. Samwell follows behind Jon, and she walks behind them both. At the touch of the crisp North air, (Y/n) pulls the twins a little closer to her chest. She expertly navigates, walking downstairs, holding the two without looking down. At the bottom, Samwell turns left as Jon turns right, leaving (Y/n) to stare at Jon’s retreating figure. Her voice almost catches in her throat before she manages to call out his name. Jon halts, turning to find her staring with furrowed eyebrows and misty eyes.

“I—I can’t take another loss. Truly I am drained.” Her voice wavers as Raina snuggles further into her shoulder. She blinks back tears as Jon approaches her with a look she cannot figure out in his eyes.

“I’ll return to you soon. I promise,” Jon runs his hand gently over Eddard's face. The boy leans into the touch, blissfully unaware of the severity of the situation. (Y/n)’s face pales at his words as she fails to get insight on what the only other person she has left thinks.

“Robb made the same promise. I never saw him again,” Jon meets her weary gaze, sighing deeply at his promise. A promise that can very well be empty, one he cannot guarantee, at the sound of yelling from above marks the end of the conversation. Jon shakes off her words as ensuring she and her children not dying at the hand of Wildings becomes a top priority. Jon leaves her without another word, disregarding the haunted look in her eyes as she watches him walk away. Her eyes linger in his direction for several seconds before Samwell pulls her away.

(Y/n) sits with Brandon on his bed. Her days consist of helping Robb keep Winterfell afloat with both Lord and Lady Stark gone. Besides that, she spends her day keeping the little Lords company. The days seem almost ethereal as if (Y/n) and Robb hold all the happiness in the world.

Like a smokescreen before destruction, word of Lord Stark's arrest brings a halt to (Y/n) and Robb's domestic fantasy. She says nothing as Robb says goodbye to Brandon first. Waiting outside the door, she fidgets with her sleeve. Robb steps out of his brother’s room in full armor, appearing at ease.

“Let me come with you. You’ve seen me with a sword. You know I can handle myself,” (Y/n) pleas, stepping closer to him. He kisses her as if she’s made of glass taking her hands in his own. She sighs as he rubs patterns with his thumb on her palm.

“Exactly why I need you here with Bran and Rickon. In my absence, I gave word that my betrothed is the Lady of Winterfell to aid Bran. So when I return with my father and sisters, we will wed that very night,” The optimism in his tone does little to curb the uneasiness that boils in her chest. He moves to turn down the corridor, but she holds his hands a little tighter. A chuckle leaves his lips as he pulls her into another kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” She mutters, and he smiles, saying the three words he has told her since they were small children.

“Don’t worry. I’ll return soon. I promise,” Robb says, walking with him to the gate. She lingers back as Robb and Theon speak. Grey Wind whines at her hand, begging her to pet his head which she obliges, muttering for the dire wolf to bring Robb home. At the sight of Robb climbing onto his horse, her mouth dries. Grey Wind runs toward the gates ahead of Robb, who slows and looks back. She wants to say something, anything really, but she does not. Robb flashes her a hopeful smile before riding off. She watches the gates long after Robb disappears from sight, unaware of what he takes with him and all he leaves behind.

[melxhunter]

A WARRIOR’S VOYAGE

"With the sins of the sun and the sadness in the sky, you shall wonder why the universe never loved you back."

— In a world overrun by the corrupt and mad, driven by lust, greed, egoism, desire and obsessionalism, having a sweet and innocent nature always ends with death. Being honorable and having a strong moral compass is viewed as something ethereal one can only dream of.

That being said, her chances were slim. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.

It was winning or dying.

And Fiyona Mormont was not ready to die.

SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE…

HOUSE MORMONT of Bear Island is a vassal House which holds fealty to House Stark of Winterfell, to the Warden of the North. They had always been a small House – it was no secret. But somehow, that alone just made them even prouder.

It didn't matter how many overlooked the island's inhabitants and failed to see the whole picture. For even if most didn't fully realize it, House Mormont was fearsome enemies but also excellent allies. Even if they indeed are a very small house.

Their ancestral home of Bear Island is an island far to the northwest of Winterfell, its location and densely forested areas with a large bear population the main reasons to why it's the home to mostly woodsmen, crofters and fisherfolk. Despite that, Bear Island was one of the places within the Seven Kingdoms known for their skilled warriors. Known for how impeccable they were at sword fighting.

Not only that, but Bear Island was also one of the few subcultures within Westeros with an tradition of female fighters. You see, over the age of time, there had always been dangers of imminent attack from ironborn raiding ships while the men were out at sea which eventually led to the women of Bear Island being expected to defend their homes from attacks. Sometimes it even was attacks from wildings who avoided the wall completely by using boats to cross the bay from the Frozen Shore.

Thus people who hail from Bear Island are mostly strong, hardy, loyal and deep down compassionate and kindhearted. When they know what needs to be done, they don't hesitate to take action.

Fiyona Mormont was no exception. The young she-bear was taught to be a warrior from an early age, and she had always known the true horrors of the world, known about the monsters hiding in the shadows since the early stages of her youth.

Fiyona was no stranger to death either, for she had watched the life leave disappear from the animals which she hunted, even watched the life slip away from her father's eyes. It was horrible, but she knew it was a part of the harsh world she lived in.

Nothing could ever change it. It was the way it was, the way it always had been and always would remain.

What Fiyona was a stranger to, however, was love. Not the kind of love you receive from your mother, a sibling or a dear friend. No, Fiyona was a stranger to the kind of ethereal love which exists between two souls. Between two hearts which ignites in such a heated flame whenever they're near one another.

Not even in her life as Mia Nordin had she ever experienced it... not that she remembered that life...yet.

As the Seven Kingdoms seemed to hold its breath while preparing itself for yet another war, completely amid the world where greed and power reign supreme, Fiyona's life collides with a another's...under arranged circumstances.

Thus began the story of Fiyona Mormont and Robb Stark. Two young humans who would change the course of the game itself.

The future Warden of the North and the former heiress of Bear Island.

The Young Wolf and the She-Wolf.

The King and Queen in the North.

As brave as the dusk & as fierce as the storm.

Fiyona Mormont's tale is filled with broken pieces, terrible choices, betrayals and ugly truths. In spite of those parts indeed being heavy and literally true, they are nevertheless misleading. For the tale is also filled with happiness, heroism, love, humanity, kindness and peace in her soul.

It's an entangled tale in which a black bear is forced to run with the wolves only discover she was one of them all along.

A tale of the wild wolves and the black bear.

Interested to read more? Then check out the story A Warrior’s Voyage on my wattpad profile melxhunter!!