#rickard stark x reader

[darkestspring]

to have and to hold

a/n: my first request! im honored. this was requested by @gulnarsultan​ for aegon I, maegor, viserys I, baelon, aerys II, rickard stark, eddard stark as yandere spouses. thank you for all your support and love. (i did leave some out that i just wasn’t feeling like i could write)

 Aegon I “The Conquerer” Targaryen

He is the definition of devoted husband. Despite you being his third wife, he adores you just the same. he spends most of his free time with you. Even if you express your distaste or concern, he showers you with endless affection and gifts. Hair pins, books, jewels. Anything your heart desires, he’ll acquire it for you.

Of course, there’s also the fact that you’re not allowed anywhere without him, Visenya, or Rhaenys. Or five guards. It’s better to pretend you aren’t aware that they’re trying to isolate you with only them to keep you company. It’s better to smile and kiss whichever spouse is accompanying you for the day and thank them.

“My heart.” He coo at you, kisses being pressed all over your face and neck. He’s as soft as a targaryen can be when he’s with you. You’re his wife, one of his loves. “I’ll burn all of westeros down if you ask it of me.” he’ll tell you late at night as you hold you in his arms. “I’ll do anything, you need only ask it.” He’ll insist and he will. He’ll give you anything you want. But don’t ask to be free. He’s your husband. You belong with him.

Maegor I “The Cruel” Targaryen

despite the fact that he already had multiple wives, he grew an instant infatuation with you and refused to accept any other outcome than to marry you. after all, what choice did they have? who would refuse a dragon?

he most likely wouldn’t wait for approval or care what anyone else thinks. he’ll marry you in the tradition of valyria with his mother as witness. what you want doesn’t necessarily matter to him. you will be his wife. you will carry his children. he’ll make it so even if he has to spend all day in bed with you.

he’s softer with you than his other wives that’s for sure. he’ll cup his face with his hands and whsiper “My wife.” before kissing you so deeply you feel like you’re drowning. You’ll always be his wife, even after his death you’ll still be his.

Viserys I “The Peaceful” Targaryen

It’s your kindness that makes him keep seeking you out. Your kindness and care towards him makes him want to be around you constantly. He’ll gift you books and scrolls on subjects you both like. He’ll gift you flowers and little trinkets. He’ll sometimes create scenarios in which you seek him out because he wishes to be around you constantly.

He’s always holding your hand, always looking at you with this lovestruck and soft look on his face. He’s not one to isolate you. You’re his wife already. His beloved queen. But in the instance that this person talks badly about you or threatens you, he’ll get rid of them with no hesitation.

When you become pregnant, he’s overjoyed. Proof of the love you both share. “My love.” He’ll let out, his hand gripping onto yours gently as you both smile. “What wonderful news. The happiest news, my darling.” Even if you die before he does, if he is forced to take another wife, he’ll always love you. He’ll consider you his only wife. His only love. The children you have together, his only children. He’ll love you even in death.

Baelon “The Brave” Targaryen

Even before he was your husband and even after, he has a tendency to not leave your side. if someone wants to find baelon, they need only to find you first. whether you’re his first or second wife, he’ll be just as devoted. He basically worships the ground you walk on and doesn’t take kindly to other talking badly about you.

He loves to lay his head in your lap and have you run his hand through his hair, it comforts him greatly. Baelon is mischievous and regarded as brave but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own mean streak. he’s capable of great cruelty to those who are a threat to you and your safety. You mean a great deal to him so he won’t allow anyone to ruin the life you both have together or your safety.

“Other half of my soul.” He’ll whisper softly as he kisses your forehead. He can’t help but want to give you the entire world. He’ll acquire things that remind him of you to gift you. the moment you’re with child, he’ll devote all of his free time to you. he’s overcome with joy. A baby! a piece of both of you. He’ll place his hand on your growing stomach and be overcome with fondness. He’ll kiss you with all the gentleness in the world. A gentleness reserved only for you.

Aerys II “The Mad King” Targaryen

In the beginning he’s very charismatic, it’s easy to forget that he refuses to let others see you. people who hold conversations with you, that get to hear your voice and see your smile, die at his hand. they don’t deserve you, he’ll tell you. you’re his wife. everything you have, everything you are, is solely his.

If you’re still alive by time he starts to go crazy, you’re the only person he’ll allow to touch him. he’ll cling to you the entire time and refuse to let go. You’re his beloved wife, the only person he’ll trust.

“please love me, don’t leave me. I beg of you.” He’ll whisper into your shoulder as he clings to you. It’s hard to remember that you’re his captive wife. That anyone who even looks at you, he’ll order dead. You don’t say an ything in return as you hold him gently.

Rickard Stark

Rickard is the definition of dutiful husband. He loves you so dearly and wants to have a peaceful life with you. He’ll have warm coats made for you so that you’ll never go cold in Winterfell. Anything you wish for, he’ll acquire. You are his wife.

Rickard’s last thought is of you, whether you are dead or alive, he thinks of you. He’s already failed you, failed his children. He just hopes justice and honor will come. He wishes to see you once more. He’ll thinks about all of the moments you have shared.

“My wolf.” Is his favorite petname, he would cup your flushed cheeks his hands and press his forehead against yours. “I’ll do anything for you. My wife. Wait for me.” It’s easy to forget that rickard’s jealousy of other men leads him to sentence them to death for smiling at you.

Eddard Stark

Eddard is a dedicated husband, he brings the definition of fuck around and find out to life. He outright won’t kill people for simply holding a conversation with his wife but if he believes they’re a threat to his wife, to her safety or to their marriage, he won’t hesitate to do what he has to, to keep his wife safe, his family safe, the north safe. You’re his wife, the only one he wants.

Eddard will show you around the north and tell you about the area, the danger, the places he likes to see. He wants to be happy there, with him. With all the children you’ll eventually have. Once jon comes into both your and his life, you comfort him, you agree to care for him. You feel slightly bad but you vow to care for him as you do your other children.

It’s devastating when he’s executed, your children try their hardest to shield you from the truth. From the schemes and manipulations of others. You try your hardest to think of what he would want in times like these. Of how he would deal with those who threaten the safety of his family. You’ll do what you must. The north always remembers.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Rickard Stark Would Include:

He is a strict leader, but he does have a softer side to him. He's known mostly for being stoic and keeping his feelings at bay. But he does have a romantic side to him that he's not afraid to show to you. When he finds someone he truly loves, he's willing to do anything for you.

As a yandere, he can be very obsessive about his love interests. He will have a deep emotional attachment to you and will do anything for you. He can be very possessive and jealous of your time and attention. He can be prone to impulsive, obsessive thoughts, behaviors, and actions. He can become irrational and act out violently when faced with jealousy or rejection. He can also be very needy and emotionally dependent on you.

He would be very jealous, but at the same time, he would treat you kindly as long as you didn’t show attraction to others. He would try to manipulate you and make you be loyal and devoted to just him.

He would be very possessive over you and not trust you around other people when you weren’t with him. He would often ask you where you were going when you left and always try to keep you close to him. He would be jealous of anyone who even got close to you and he would never allow you to hang out with them. He would expect you to give him all your attention and if you didn’t, he would get very angry and lash out at you.

He would be very controlling towards you and try to dictate what you wear, who you spend time with, where you go, what you do, and how you act. He would be prone to violent outbursts when things don’t go the way he wants them to, and he would be extremely manipulative and possessive over you. He would always be suspicious of other people's intentions and not let you make many friends. He would treat you like property and feel entitled to you.

He would also be extremely clingy and needy. He would be constantly calling and texting you, and demanding your attention all the time. He would constantly beg for your love and attention and wouldn't let you leave him alone for even a second. He would also constantly be asking you to see him and spend time with him, to the point where it would begin to drive you crazy.

He would be very volatile. His moods would always be shifting, from loving to spiteful. He'd be quick to lash out and make threats if you did anything that didn't go his way. He'd be very unpredictable and you never know what kind of mood he'd be in. He'd be quick to insult you and make you feel worthless, but then make you feel special and loved just as quickly. He'd be manipulative and make you understand that he owns you, that there's no one else for you and you'd be lost without him.

As a yandere, he would be very protective of you. He would be extremely overprotective to the point where you would be unable to do anything without him. He would constantly worry about your safety and would go out of his way to make sure that nothing bad happened to you.

Well, if you ever cheated on him, he would make sure you'd regret it dearly. He'd start with insulting and cursing at you. He'd be extremely jealous and angry of whoever you cheated on him with and he would make sure that you knew how much he hated the other person. He would find some way to physically hurt the other person to teach them a lesson even in front of you, and he'd always hold it against you and make you pay dearly for it.

He would have no respect for your autonomy or boundaries. He would demand that you do whatever he says, whenever he says it. He'd forbid you from leaving him, and he'd make you feel like you're nothing without him. He'd be extremely manipulative and he'd do anything to keep you with him and make you his.

When you're around him, he would insist that you wear matching jewelry or accessories that signify your union, like friendship bracelets, promise rings, or even collars and leashes. He'd be extremely possessive and demand that you never take it off. If anyone ever dared to criticize him, he'd freak out and lash out at them, even if your reputation is at stake. He'll be there to defend your honor no matter the cost.

Well, if you did something that he liked or pleased him, he'd reward you with attention and affection. He'd give you compliments and praise you for doing the right thing, and make you feel loved and appreciated. He'd also give you gifts and surprises just because you deserve them.

If you do something that he doesn't like, he'll punish you by insulting or degrading you. He would ignore you for a period of time and make you feel neglected and forgotten. He'd make you feel worthless and insignificant, and he'd make you feel like you're nothing without him. He'd withhold love and affection and make you feel like you're alone. He'd make you feel guilty and ashamed for something he believed you did wrong. He'd punish you by denying you the things you want and making you feel hopeless about achieving your goals. His punishments also include anything from taking away privileges to spanking, to even slapping you if you really needed.

Well, if you got married, that would mean there are no more secrets between you, and are bonded forever. You would belong to him and he would belong to you. He would be the only person in your life. He would expect you to never even look at another as if they were attractive or interesting and he would demand complete obedience from you.

If you had children, you would be even more bound to him. He would use the children as a way of keeping you to him even more, and make you depend on him both financially and emotionally. He would use the children as a way of controlling you and making you feel as if your life revolved around him and the family.

If you couldn't have kids, he would have an even tighter hold on you and make you completely dependent on him. He would make you believe that you can't live without him and that no other person would ever want to be with you. He would make you believe that he is the only one who can make you happy and he would use that to his full advantage.

"You belong to me now, you are mine entirely and you can't live without me. No other man will ever care for you or take care of you the way I do. You shouldn't even think about leaving me because you will never find someone better than me and you'll be miserable without me. Be grateful that I love you and I am allowing you to be with me.

Creampies - He loves the idea of filling you up with his cum and then leaving you to deal with the messy aftermath of your encounter.

Power exchange - Being able to physically overpower his partner and use you however he pleases is just... exhilarating. And last but not least, there's an obsession with gagging and face-fucking.

Spanking – Especially when combined with other activities like fucking or sucking. The sound of his hand connecting with someone's ass cheek always sends shivers down his spine.

Edging - Taking you as close to the edge of orgasm as possible without actually letting you climax.

Size worship - He gets off on being worshiped for his large size and physical attributes. This includes being admired, touched, and even used as a sex toy by you.

[viscardiac]

Hello. I wonder if you are taking requests, can you write for Baelon, Aemon, Daemon Blackfyre, Rickard Stark, Eddard Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Roose Bolton as a husband?

Sup. I kinda realized along the way that i can't really do that number of characters on a request because the dopamine slips from my fingers. I did do the first ones, though, so have at it.

Baelon strikes me, specially in his youth, as the type who just can't sit still. He got along with Alyssa for that same reason, she couldn't sit still either. How disappointed must she have been when he marries you! If Baelon is to be your husband, you better be ready to be always on the move, always doing something. Baelon was always the most intense of Jaehaerys' older boys, which might be overwhelming if his wife is not the same, factor that does too apply to the bedroom. Baelon wants to be with his wife time and again, and chances are the children will not take long to come as well. It might be a problem if he is with someone with a colder personality, more contained and rigid, the relationship might suffer the strain for it.

I'm assuming you mean the Aemon who was Jaehaerys' son. Aemon might need a partner who will understand he's not trying to be difficult, he just wants to consider every possibility. He's likelier to be in love from afar than his younger brother, who will absolutely push him to go over to talk to you. But once things have settled, he'd be the sort to remember everything about you. Knows just what kind of food you like to eat, what you do when you're sad, how you like to celebrate, but is often shy to act on what he knows would be the best course of action. Aemon is the one who wants to know everything about everything, and that often makes him forget that he doesn't let on much about himself either. Your husband knows evertything about you, but you barely know what he likes best to eat. Maybe it's hard for him to talk about himself. Maybe it'll be even harder to notice he hasn't told you when his birthday is. He doesn't do it out of malice, mind you, but doesn't make it easier for his s/o. Treats them with all the care in the world… but do you really know where he went when he saddled Caraxes this morning?

Daemon Blackfyre is his father's son -- though not necessarily in a negative way. He seems to have a difficulty in seeing how things end up long term, and wants things when he wants them. That might have been the case with his spouse as well. One day he barely knows they exist, the other, they can no longer live without them. I think a long term relationship with him would take a cyclic form, growing and fading time and again as the months come and go. This month he's bewitched by you, the next month, he can't stand the sight of you. It's not necessarily malicious, but it can become so if the opportunity arises. He needs time to fall in and out of love again and again, and is much more martial than his father had been. Things can shift in a matter of moments. The part of the cycle he's in dictates how he treats you when you're alone or in bed. He may be caring, giving, and will prioritize you over him when he's at the highest points, but at the lowest ones, it's about what he wants and what you're going to give him, with some measure of violence on the gesture, intentional or not. He is always present, though. The exception is war, to which he does not take you along. He may leave at whichever point in the rollercoaster, and while he's away, you can't expect to be the only one. But he always comes back missing you, and missing everything you represent. No matter how sometimes he may think he hates you, he knows he doesn't.

Rickard Stark is the kind of man to put his hands on your shoulders while the both of you stare out of a window on a tower and ask you what do you see. When he looks, he sees into the distance, too far for you to know where. He was always an ambitious man, however quiet, silent that ambition was, and having a spouse to share that with would be a joy to him. To plot futures and scheme alliances. Yes, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, but why shouldn't there be a Stark in court, or in the citadel, or overseeing the Narrow Sea? He is a rigid man, made to face whatever the winter throws at him, but the what ifs are too much to bear alone. His maester shared that ambition, and if you do not, rest assured, there will be conflict. And while he is open to new views, new ideas, he's also very keen on what he has learned as the right way to do things. He can be persuaded, of course, but that might take a while.

Eddard Stark is nothing short of dutiful, and much harder to approach. He will always be by your side, like he has been taught a husband should, but truth is, he's got no clue what he's getting himself into. He makes his best effort, mind you, but he's not one to share his burdens or his opinions and emotions. His father knew what to do, his brother knew what to do, and he's been relying on the fact that people think he knows what he's doing since he became Lord of Winterfell. He needs clear words, honest and simple, to know what he can and should entrust you or not. Maybe he needs to be confided in before he can confide. If a cold marriage is what the future had in store for him, then so it is, but it's not what he wants, and finally being able to feel like he's not so alone anymore will definitely have its weight, however different from him you might be.

[greycloudsinwinter]

Yandere Rickard Stark headcanon

YANDERE RICKARD STARK X READER

❄️ Rickard has a reputation of “don’t start fights “ “but if you do win them “ . However when he first saw you a simple servant gathering herbs he instantly wanted you . You look like a flower one that could never survive the north that’s why he wanted you. It was in his blood to protect those who can’t .

❄️he believes in honour so he would never forcefully take you . No instead he would manipulate you into think that’s what you wanted and he was just agreeing with you.

❄️would go out hunting and gift you the finest furs . Would make sure you remained close so he could keep an eye on you .

❄️as the lord of winter fell he abused his power by getting people to spread rumours about you. So that you would come sobbing to him and he could act the hero.

❄️when he goes against everyone’s wishes and starts courting you he is so so gentle with you . Truest treating you like the most fragile flower.

❄️if you try and leave winter fell he will know and he’s already steps ahead of you . He told the guards to never let you out unless he was with you . So the guards won’t let you leave and if you some how do manage to he will send the hounds to go get you .

❄️you got married in winter the septa was just trying to do his job afraid of what the lord of winter fell will do if he didn’t.

❄️rivals are dealt with swiftly and effectively by dragging them into the woods for the wolves to find them or sending them to the wall.

❄️makes sure you were clothing with the stark brand in it.

❄️gifts you simple things preferably necklaces or flowers.

❄️enjoys pda but hates it when people comment on it because he gets flustered.

❄️would want children because he needs heirs but if you can’t he is open for adopting.

❄️controlling and manipulating yandere

❄️one of the worst yandere to have because he messes around with your mind making you second guess yourself .

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

[alannybunnue]

Hello. What do you think yandere husbands (separately) Cregan, Richard, Brandon, Eddard would have been like? What will their behavior be towards their spouses they are obsessed with?

Well, i am sorry for disappointing you...but, i can't give you a complete view.

Rickard and Brandon have very little information about them, which can't really give me a full idea of how they would act as Yanderes, i don't know if that's the same case for others.

As for Cregan and Ned, i could say they are kinda similar in my point of view, over protective and over bearing. They will love, cherish and protect you at all costs, but don't break their trust, they might break, more Ned than Cregan tho.

I am so sorry i couldn't give you any better concepts for these men...

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Another Life

Pairing(s): implied/referenced Rhaegar Targaryen x Stark!Reader, Ned Stark x Catelyn Tully, Robert Baratheon x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: canonical character death, illegitimacy, cat actually loves jon in this story, drabble, short, robert and cersei actually like eachother

Words: 1269

Lyanna watches Jon from atop of the courtyard's parapet, her eyes crinkling with pride as she watches Jon best Theon Greyjoy at the dance of swords. Every victory Jon made resulted in him outgrowing the label of bastard. He was so much more than a bastard of Winterfell. Not even Catelyn saw him as such. Many were so shocked when the news came that Ned had brought back his bastard one day. In fact Cat had shown up at Winterfell by his side as he held the infant in his arms, for she was one of three that knew the truth about Jon Snow.

Heartache nibbles at her heart when she recalls fifteen years prior. She remembers her sister (y/n). The fever of her cheeks as she held her newborn son in her arms. But she wasn't faring well. Birth rendered her near lifeless, allowing her to slip slowly away into the Stranger's arms. It was only a matter of time. She refused to leave the Tower of Joy, understood her fate as well as her siblings and sister-in-law did. (y/n) had just been content with the fact that she'd birthed a healthy baby boy.

"Jon." Her watery eyes turn up to Lyanna. "His name is Jon."

After Rhaegar's closest friend. Jon Connington was the one to deliver the note to Winterfell, ensuring it fell into the safe hands of the young Warden of the North himself. He'd been instructed by his revered lady, Princess (y/n) Targaryen.

The name was a slap to the face. A year prior to the birth of her son, (y/n) had supposedly been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen who was supposed to marry Elia Martell the following day. Both up and vanished without a trace. Lord Rickard Stark was beside himself with grief and agony that they stormed to the capital to demand answers from King Aerys himself. Lord Rickard and his heir Brandon accused the king of hiding the location of Rhaegar and (y/n), said that she was to be returned immediately and the prince punished. But Aerys didn't take kindly to the slander they were slewing against the crown. He had them executed.

Ensuing blood shed consumed the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar appeared only on the battlefield with his own men. They fought against not just the king, but Ned and his own allies which included Storm's End. No sign of (y/n) nearby.

After Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar and the regicide of the Mad King by the young lion Jaime Lannister, there was still no clue as to where (y/n) could be.

Robert, though it was Jaime who slew the king, secured the Iron Throne for himself. That meant Lyanna would be queen as she was engaged to Robert. She refused.

When Ned implored her to marry Robert, she gave him the tongue lashing of the century but it did the job in shutting him up. He couldn't force Lyanna to do something she didn't want to. That lesson was learned in childhood. If she desired to stay in the North then she would stay. Slighted at first, it didn't take him long to choose another bride. Cersei Lannister. A beautiful couple. Lyanna was happy that Robert even seemed to be truly smitten with the golden haired girl. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

Or so she was told. She couldn't attend their lavish wedding, not when her sister was still out there somewhere.

Day and night she worked in searching for (y/n). Northmen scattered across the vast land took part in looking for her.

They'd nearly given up.

And then Jon Connington delivered a letter in (y/n)'s handwriting.

She and Rhaegar had eloped. Rhaegar couldn't marry Elia Martell, he didn't love her but there was absolutely no way that Aerys would let him marry (y/n) Stark. Even (y/n) had kept her love for him a secret from everyone in her family.

Getting married as soon as they could. They had a short honeymoon for the war started shortly after. Jon Connington was entrusted with (y/n)'s safety, and though he wanted to be with Rhaegar on the battlefield, he held (y/n) in high regard. He agreed without much hesitation.

Soon she discovered she was pregnant. The pregnancy wasn't going well for her. She was constantly sick and weak. She didn't have long.

In her note, (y/n) specifically wanted Lyanna, Ned and his new bride to come. Only them. They were not to tell anyone else. Cat was loathe to leave her own baby Robb but knew how important this was for Ned and his family so of course she agreed to go. Leaving Robb pained her.

Jon was but a week old by the time they arrived to the Tower of Joy. The Sword of the Morning himself stood guard at the tower's entrance.

The babe was healthy. The same couldn't be said of his mother.

She was gaunt, so gray. This wasn't the sister Ned and Lyanna grew up with. Her smile was still the same though, even if it was a little strained. To each of them she spoke to, having the other two wait.

All of them, including Jon Connington and Arthur Dayne were to take this secret to their graves.

(y/n) died two days later.

"I know that look."

Lyanna jolts at Ned's voice, ripped from her melancholic memories. She presses her lips together. Ned grew into a fine lord. A horde of children filled the halls of the castle. Among them was the boy they thought their bastard brother. "Sometimes I can't help but think about her when I see him. He has her big, sweet eyes."

Ned nods. "He does." He rests his forearms on the wooden rail and looks down into the courtyard where Jon swung his sword in the way that Arthur Dayne had shown him that morning. Off to the distance was Jon Connington watching with a close eye. Theon and Robb are trying it out as well.

Jon was thriving. No one caught on to the truth of him. Never even breaching the surface. Many asked who the mother was since Ned agreed to claim fathership over him.

Bittersweet for the siblings watching their nephew grow up without his real mother and father. It was better this way. (y/n) wanted her son to grow up in the north opposed to the death and discrimination he might receive from being raised in the capital. Not just that, but Robert Baratheon was now entirely against the entire Targaryen line. He was already trying to locate the missing Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys with plans to execute them if they're ever found. Children. It was insane that his queen was supporting the king's search for them. His claim to the throne was in danger as long as there was even one Targaryen left alive. And unfortunately Jon was included.

That day his sister died, Ned swore to her that he would protect Jon with his life; even if that meant protecting him against his own friend he thought of as a brother. Lyanna, Ned and Cat had spent sleepless nights speaking about the possibility of Robert finding out about Jon. Their voices hushed, only the quiet flame in the fireplace bore witness to the secrets being discussed.

They would never allow the secret of Jon's parents to become public knowledge. (y/n) entrusted Jon's life to them and they would not disappoint her. They would defend the boy with their life and take his secret to the afterlife.

[certifiedskywalker]

One Last Request - Rhaegar Targaryen

disneyprincessbuffyannesummers

Could u write an imagine where the reader is Margarey's aunt. Who was married to Rhaegar. and one day she goes north and meets the son who was ripped away from her Jon Snow ❄️

You hail from the great House Tyrell, and to secure such greatness, your father wed you to the crowned prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. However, finding a love in marriage grew hard when Robert Baratheon decided to revolt against the throne. Rhaegar hid you away for your own safety, as well as the safety of your unborn child.

The moment you and Rhaegar wed, you knew your life would change forever. Reciting the words in the Septa Balor, wearing the Targaryen’s red and black versus your father’s house colors of green and gold. Your brother, Mace, who was much younger, was confused by that fact. Despite the royal family and the crowds of advisors veying for a power play, all you were focused on was the pair of purple eyes in front of you. The silver hair that flowed and rippled like sunshine on a lake was all you could see.

Rhaegar had donned his ceremonial armor which, despite the bulky metal, still made him appear slim. The three headed dragon on his chest glimmered with shining rubies, but that wasn’t what you cared about. As the High Septon spoke, all you felt was hope and love. You had dreamed of this moment ever since a Targaryen-Tyrell alliance was forged. Everytime you gazed at your wedding gown the weeks before the actual ceremony, your heart would soar.

Now, you were reciting your vows to each other, promising forever to each other. You couldn’t have asked for a more noble, brave, or handsome husband than Prince Rhaegar; and despite your marriage to him being more of an alliance, you felt a love for him that was hard to explain. You trusted the man before you, even with his father’s madness that grew more and more apparent with each passing day. Rhaegar would protect you, no matter what.

“Let the feast and dancing commence,” King Aerys shouted, raising his long, finger nailed hands in the air. Your guests cheered, but you could feel Rhaegar tense slightly in the seat beside you. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. He turned to look into your eyes and you could see the same affection you felt in your heart reflected in his purple irises.

“Forget for tonight, my love,” you whispered softly. Rhaegar gave you a soft smile and squeezed your hand gently,

“It is hard to do so,” Rhaegar said, his voice soothing as a song, “but for you, I will do anything.” Warmth spread across your cheeks at his words and you smiled at him.

“Princess Targaryen-Tyrell,” a gruff voice sounded, bringing your attention forward. Before you stood the honorable Rickard Stark and his lovely daughter Lyanna. “Prince Rhaegar,” the lord dipped his head, “my daughter, Lyanna has heard great stories of your charity, Princess. She aspires to grow up as your mirror.”

“How kind,” you said, “I am honored to be given the attention of the Wild Wolf herself!” Lyanna smiled at you, dipping her head respectfully.

“I hope to be your handmaiden, my Princess,” Lyanna said softly, “for as long as you will have me.” Your mouth fell open at the offer and you turned to Rhaegar.

“The choice is yours, my dear,” he said calmly. You turned back to the two Starks before you, the family that had travelled from far North just to see you wed.

“Of course,” you said, “I would be lucky to have you as my handmaiden.” In true Reach-family fashion, you stood from your seat and strood towards Lyanna. You opened your arms and gave her a sweet hug, one which the slightly younger girl returned. You pulled away from the embrace and saw a bright smile on the girl’s features.

“I do hope we become close friend,” Lyanna said, and you nodded agreement.

“I feel that we already are,” you said, giving her a wider smile. If you had known then how important the Stark girl would be in your life, you would have hugged her for a lot longer. Before you could think any more on the subject of her being your handmaiden, you felt Rhaegar standing beside you and his hand resting against your back.

“Shall we dance?” Rhaegar’s low, smooth voice encircled your ear and you felt your heart skip a beat. You gazed up at your newly-wed husband and nodded. His purple eyes gleamed as he clutched your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. The guests watched in awe as the Prince and new Princess had their first dance.

“They’re watching like prairie hawks,” you whispered, coaxing a soft chuckle from Rhaegar as you danced together. You met his gaze and saw that he was already looking at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen from a man before.

“They’re all watching you,” he whispered in reply, “marvelling at your beauty just as I do.” You blushed as Rhaegar’s poetic tone soothed you. Leaning up, you pecked your prince’s lips, not caring who saw. Rhaegar smiled into the kiss before you pulled away, smiling brightly Resting your head against his chest, you let him take full control of swaying your bodies back and forth to the melodic music. You hadn’t felt that at peace in a long time. You wouldn’t feel that way, so it seemed, ever again.

“I’m to go to the Trident,” Rhaegar said, his voice low with melancholy as he read from the raven’s letter. You stood from your shared bed and walked over to your husband, who stood in front of a window. He was now staring out into the Dornish sky, where the stars twinkled like pure diamonds. “My father has requested my leadership there, personally.”

“You can deny him,” you said, grabbing his pale arm, “we fled from him for this reason, my love. He can’t harm us here.” Rhaegar turned to face you and you could see pure fear in his eyes. You knew that he had been having dreams, nightmares, of this war. Robert Baratheon was angered by his loss at the Tourney, and the denial of Lyanna’s hand in marriage. Being your hand maiden, Lyanna was staying with you and Rhaegar in the Tower of Joy. She too, like everyone else in King’s Landing, wanted to get as far away from the Mad King as they could. You were lucky to escape before he could hold you hostage and use you against Rhaegar.

“Then he will know,” Rhaegar said, his darker purple eyes glinting in the moonlight, “and that is something we can not risk. Not now, not with this.” His hands ghosted over the thin material of your nightgown, brushing against your very swollen belly. You moved your hands and placed them over his own, still looking into his eyes.

“I do not want you to go,” you whispered, “if not for my sake, for his.” You said, rubbing your belly. Rhaegar smiled and shook his head thoughtfully.

“You really believe it is a boy?” He asked, the hopeful glimmer in his shining amethyst eyes. You nodded in response, bringing a grin to his features.

“Please, Rhaegar,” you pleaded, moving a hand to his cheek, “I’m going to need you here when he comes into the world. I want you here.” Rhaegar swallowed hard and frowned.

“Y/N, my love, we can’t risk him, not when it comes to my father. Lyanna will be here, so with Ser Arthur Dayne. I would never leave you unprotected, never.” You felt tears well in your eyes, knowing all too well that you were losing him.

“It will be too dangerous, this Baratheon is winning this war against your father. Now would be the time to hide or befriend him.” Rhaegar shook his head and held your gaze.

“He will not be open for an alliance, Y/N. Robert Baratheon doesn’t surrender, and in his eyes, an alliance with any Targaryen is surrender. Now he wants the throne.”

“Then be the one to give it to him,” you suggested, but Rhaegar wasn’t having it. He pulled away from you the moment you finished speaking and you knew you had crossed a line. “Rhaegar, please, if what you say is true, if he gets the chance, Robert will kill you.”

Rhaegar had his back turned to you know, as if he was in deep thought. You curled your lips together nervously, hoping he had changed his mind. He turned suddenly, closing the gap between you both quickly. Rhaegar wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you as close as he could with your swollen belly. His touch made you melt, your eyes closed at the warm contact. You needed him to feel safe, to feel at home.

“We’ll talk more of this in the morning,” he whispered as he held you. You wanted to talk back but you bit your tongue. You wanted to savor this moment for a little while longer. Rhaegar shifted and took your hand. “Let’s get you to bed, our son must rest.”

When you woke, Rhaegar was gone. A letter rested on his nightstand, telling you about how sorry he was, but that he would never be able to forgive himself if Aerys go this hands on you, or your unborn son. Your husband went on, detailing how much he loved you and one last request: name him Aegon. With tears in your eyes, you felt the first of your labor pains.

You don’t remember much, except screaming and the pain. Lyanna’s voice trying to sooth you as voices and clanging swords sounded outside. The sound of a baby’s cry reached your ears and you let out a sigh of relief. Tears escaped your eyes like small rivers.

“Give him to me, give me Aegon,” you pleaded to Lyanna, but the pounding on the door grew louder. “Lyanna, please,” you begged. The young woman placed your baby in your arms and you saw the head of dark black hair upon his head. “He’s a boy,” you whispered, right before a different handmaiden tore him from your grasp.

“We need to get her out of here, Ser Arthur Dayne is not outside, they are coming in!” Through your haze, you saw Lyanna glance at your child and you, with tears in her eyes. She rushed towards you and lifted you.

“I know of the pain, but you must move for your boy,” she said softly as you cried out. You muscled through the pain as Lyanna dragged you to a large closet that the other handmaiden, the one holding your child, was holding open. “Take care of them, with your life,” Lyanna spat at the girl, handing her a dagger.

“What of you?” You asked through the pain and Lyanna leaned down towards you. Her Stark grey eyes held your gaze with confidence. Your friend smiled at you and placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead before pulling away from you. She gave you a brave smile.

“I’m protecting you,” she whispered as she started to run back towards the bed. The last thing you saw before the other handmaiden closed the door was Lyanna getting under the covers and splashing water over her face. Before anything else could happen, the door opened loudly, Lyanna screamed in pain, and you fell unconscious.

“Papa, why are we visiting the North?” Your niece, the beautiful Margaery, asked your brother Mace as the carriage bounced along to the final destination. You turned your gaze from the window and looked at the little girl before you. Her brother, Loras, the sweetest nephew you could ask for, was still asleep; his sister was wide awake.

“The Starks are distant friends of ours, and they have plenty of children for you to meet! And more on the way!” Mace said with a jolly chuckle. You rolled your eyes at your brother, knowing full well he had the intention to see if any of the Stark boys were worthy to marry his daughter in the future. However, his answer seemed to sedate Margaery for a time, as she sat next to her brother for a brief respite. This prompted Mace to turn to you.

“I know you have your qualms with the Starks,” he started, “but I hope you will see past that. He wasn’t worthy of you, Y/N, you are a strong Tyrell, you were never meant to be a dragon.” His words sank into your heart, but you nodded through the heartache.

“Don’t worry brother, there is no bad blood.” You turned back to look out the small window of the carriage and fell back into the memories of your son’s birth. The assassins sent by Aerys had stormed the castle, not trusting his son to fight at the Trident himself. They struck Lyanna, with a mortal blow, until Ser Arthur Dayne came to the rescue. The handmaiden was order to heal Lyanna, after tending to you as much as she could. You had lost so much blood, nearly too much. You were holding your son when a fight once again commenced.

Aegon was taken from you once more and you were pushed into the closet again. “For your safety,” she had said. She locked you inside as Ser Dayne was slaughtered by Ned Stark and his men. When they stormed the tower, Lyanna, to protect you and your lineage, played Aegon off as her own. The legitimate child of herself and Rhaegar Targaryen. She died whispering your son’s name, and you wished with all your heart you could repay her.

You saw this trip as a way to make sure Lyanna was at peace. That her family was alright and thriving just as yours was. House Tyrell had welcomed you back, after the newly crowned King Robert pardoned you for siding with the enemy. You wished your husband’s murderer had struck you down then in the Red Keep. You longed for Rhaegar’s embrace, to tell him that your child had survived. But even after getting what he wanted, Robert Baratheon did not dare to show you mercy. That was a grudge you had carried with you, even all this way North; along with the hope of seeing your child grown.

“Welcome Lord Tyrell, and Lady Tyrell, what a surprise,” Catelyn Stark said, as she greeted you. You smiled at the Tully woman and gazed upon her children. Not a head of dark black hair stood before you. Ned Stark stepped forward and helped you down from the carriage.

“We welcome you to the North,” he said, “how was the ride?”

“Long, but quite worth it,” you said with a hint of that Tyrell charm, “your countryside is beautiful. I’ve never seen such rocky and rolling hills. The Reach is flat, rich, farmland.” Ned nodded softly, and you could feel the unspoken past that lingered between you. A past of war times and heartache. “May I visit your crypt? I wish to pay my respects.”

“Of course, my Lady. Robb, fetch Jon will you? He will escort Lady Tyrell to the crypts.” The eldest of Ned’s children rushed off, leaving your awe-struck niece in the dust. You waited for a few long minutes until you heard a pair of soft footsteps behind you. As you turned, you heart stopped and your breath caught.

“Lady Tyrell, are you ready to go to the crypts?” A younger boy stood before you, maybe thirteen years of age with deep brown eyes and flowing, dark black hair to frame his unmistakable features. You could only tear you gaze from his for a moment to glance at Ned Stark, who looked at you and nodded. Looking back at the boy, you nodded.

“Why yes, I am. You are Jon?” You asked as the boy started to walk towards the crypts.

“Aye, I am,” he said, even with his soft voice, it felt like Rhaegar’s passion lurked behind his words.

“It’s lovely to meet you Jon, I’m Y/N Tyrell.” Jon looked up and nodded, a closed lipped smile on his full lips.

“My sister said you were once married to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, is that true?” You felt your heart ache at his name, the sound of it leaving his son’s, your son’s, mouth.

“It is,” you said as you neared the crypts, the dark stairway down loomed before you.

“What was he like?”

“Oh the stories I could tell you,” you said as you took your first step down the crypts; the first step in the right direction since Robert’s Rebellion.

[ladyviserra]

Bolton Bride | Ramsay Bolton

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Female!Reader

Summary: Ramsay visits the Rills and kidnaps you from your family.

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of death

A/n: If you want part two of this story let me know! Pt

Part 2

The new Warden of the north became Roose Bolton, all of Westeros knew, not all of it cared, just the Northerners. It will only affect us. What does it mean for us?

" It means it's going to be worse than it already is. " Your father repeated your aunt's words. 

No one liked Boltons, your family despised them even with being a part of the family as well. Domeric Bolton, Roose Bolton's son was your cousin, your aunt, Bethany's son. He died a mysterious death.

It is said he was killed by Ramsay Snow, Lord Bolton's bastard son. The bastard wanted to be an heir, which he did become eventually. News of the new legitimized boy hopped to the ears of your family.

All of house Ryswell and Dustin weren't happy with some bastard earning a title of an heir, nor Domeric's death even though it's been two years now.

" The North remembers. " Your uncle Rickard's words. He spoke of his anger when his sister died. He cursed the now Lord Bolton in such ways that your mother covered your ears to not learn to say such bad words to someone else.

But he didn't curse him as much as he did his bastard a day after he arrived. A raven flew to the Rills in an early morning announcing that, Ramsay of House Bolton rides to the Rills. The reason? Not mentioned. Your aunt was informed of it and rode herself back to her homeland.

" What could that boy want from us? " Your father asked himself out loud with the whole family your aunt Barbery, your uncles Rickard and Roose, your grandfather, your parents and yourself around the table.

" Your daughter, that's what. " Lady Dustin's angered face pointed at you with her words. For a moment silence played in the room.

" Well, he can't have her. " Your father yelled, the rest of your family nodded in agreement. No one asked you anything about it. You didn't want to marry a Bolton, have the same fate as your aunt.

Four days after the letter arrived, so did the Bolton. Was he proud, oh he was, very much so. Your whole family shoot him glares which did not bother him at all. He was to be the Warden of the North, no one in his way, that's how he thought of it.

His icy blue eyes watched you, Barbrey noticed it, of course, she did. Pulling you closer to her side.

" See how full of himself he is. There is no way you are going to with or without him Winterfell. " She never liked the Starks, but the Boltons were never the better option.

" Lord Ryswell, good to meet you. " Ramsay shook your grandfather's hand.

" Lord Bolton, what brings you to the Rills? " He didn't waste his time, none of the Ryswells would, he wanted an answer fast.

" We shall discuss my wishes inside, I believe it will be more comfortable. " The same silence from before, danced around when you walked inside, no doubt you felt eyes focused on you. His eyes burned into your body shamelessly even after all of you were sat down.

" Lord Bolton, would you like to explain your visit? "

" Very gladly. " His eyes looked away from you and stopped at your father. " As you know, my father is now the Warden of the North, and I am his heir, my father sent me to you Lord Ryswell to ask for your daughter's hand in the marriage. " The last words made him eye you.

" I am sorry, but I don't think I can accept it. " Your father said seriously.

" And why is that? " The legitimized bastard asked interested.

" She is already promised to another. " Uncle Roose lied. You weren't betrothed, if Domeric haven't died it would probably be he who you would marry. In the lastest time, North doesn't have too many young Lords your age.

" Who is that lucky man if I can know of him? " Ramsay was seeing the untrue words.

" My son, Petyr Dustin. " Aunt Barbrey lied to his face. Lady Dustin doesn't have any children as her husband, Lord Dustin died early in their marriage.

" Mhm. " He hummed standing up. " Well best of luck to you, m'lady, I hope you find happiness in your marriage truly. You deserve it. " Former Snow gave you disappointing smile. " We'll take our leave. " And they left just as fast as they came.

Your aunt wasn't pleased with it, thinking he has something else in his sleeves, but your father and uncles told her that he will probably find some other girl to marry. Before the sunset, aunt went on to return to Barrowhills. It was over, we wouldn't be seeing him for a while. Wrong.

In the middle of the night, a noise woke you up. In your room, everything was quiet, outside of it you heard groans from men and then the door opened. Ramsay fastly walked over to you. You were only in your nightgown, covering yourself in front of the man that invaded your home.

" If you cooperate, no harm will come to your family. " He held his hand for you to take. Thinking it thought, if it wasn't for your family, you would kick and scream. Taking his hand, he gave you a small smile as a reward, covering you with his cloak. A hand over your shoulders to keep you from running away.

Outside were his men and some of House Ryswells knights, throats slit or organs butchered. It was a gruesome scene that made you gasp. He took his horse and made a gesture to get on the horse.

" Is my family safe? " You asked him, scared that he already slaughtered them too. His lips gave a tiny peck to your cheek.

" What husband kills his wife's family? " Chuckles escaped his and his men's mouth at that. His wife? So he was planning to marry you, but if your family didn't accept the offer he would take you himself?

You climbed on the horse's back, Ramsay following after you. You quickly rode away from your home as a tear fell down the same cheek that was kissed by Ramsay.

" Don't cry Lady Y/N. You were a good girl so far, don't ruin it. " His whispered into your ear followed by a kiss.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Bran VII (Chapter 66)

Today we’ll be covering Bran VII, a chapter that might be the most important and revealing in the entire novel.

Unfortunately you’re all stuck with me doing this, and I will be unable to tell you anything meaningful.

The maester was peering through his big Myrish lens tube, measuring shadows and noting the position of the comet that hung low in the morning sky.

There’s that god damn comet. Sometimes a comet is just a comet, you know? But leave it up to a self-absorbed narcissist to see what they want to see.

It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way. - Daenerys I, ACOK

x

He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. - Samwell IV, AFFC

+.+

"They don't fight very well," Bran said dubiously. 

(...)

"For a certainty," Maester Luwin agreed with a deep sigh.

(...)

"Yet given time … Ser Rodrik has the truth of it, we need men to walk the walls. Your lord father took the cream of his guard to King's Landing, and your brother took the rest, along with all the likely lads for leagues around. Many will not come back to us, and we must needs find the men to take their places."

George R. R. Martin making sure the reader realizes Winterfell is not in capable hands. Thanks, I hate it.

+.+

"Ser Rodrik should teach me to use a poleaxe. If I had a poleaxe with a big long haft, Hodor could be my legs. We could be a knight together."

"I think that … unlikely," Maester Luwin said. "Bran, when a man fights, his arms and legs and thoughts must be as one."

That won’t be a problem.

+.+

"There was a knight once who couldn't see," Bran said stubbornly, as Ser Rodrik went on below. "Old Nan told me about him. He had a long staff with blades at both ends and he could spin it in his hands and chop two men at once."    

"Symeon Star-Eyes," Luwin said as he marked numbers in a book. "When he lost his eyes, he put star sapphires in the empty sockets, or so the singers claim. Bran, that is only a story, like the tales of Florian the Fool. A fable from the Age of Heroes." The maester tsked. "You must put these dreams aside, they will only break your heart."

Hey, why are we learning about this right now? Beats me!

Symeon Star-Eyes, a knight with strong association with sapphires, often mentioned alongside Prince Aemon. It should be noted, Sansa is patiently waiting for him to come rescue her.

Is it Brienne? Am I close?

+.+

"I dreamed about the crow again last night. The one with three eyes. He flew into my bedchamber and told me to come with him, so I did. We went down to the crypts. Father was there, and we talked. He was sad."                 

"And why was that?" Luwin peered through his tube.

"It was something to do about Jon, I think."

Will Bran play a role in revealing Jon’s parentage? Yes.

+.+

"Good. Hodor is a man, not a mule to be beaten."

Bran, please listen to your maester.

+.+

A tongue of flame trailed back from the upraised torch as he went.    

Tongue of flame... alrighty.

+.+

"Do you recall your history, Bran?" the maester said as they walked. "Tell Osha who they were and what they did, if you can."

A history lesson! We must always pay attention to history.

+.+

"That one is Jon Stark. When the sea raiders landed in the east, he drove them out and built the castle at White Harbor. His son was Rickard Stark, not my father's father but another Rickard, he took the Neck away from the Marsh King and married his daughter.

King Jon Snow, I see you! Driving out those raiders and slavers from across the narrow sea!

Even before the coming of the Andals, the Wolf’s Den had been raised by King Jon Stark, built to defend the mouth of the White Knife against raiders and slavers from across the narrow sea (some scholars suggest these were early Andal incursions, whilst others argue they were the forebears of the men from Ib, or even slavers out of Valyria and Volantis). - TWoIaF

His son was Rickard Stark, not my father's father but another Rickard, he took the Neck away from the Marsh King and married his daughter.

What is this? Is this anything? It’s something, isn’t it?

+.+

Theon Stark's the real thin one with the long hair and the skinny beard. They called him the 'Hungry Wolf,' because he was always at war. 

Theon Greyjoy, I see you! Always at war with others or yourself?

King Theon also fought the ironborn in the west, driving them from Cape Kraken and Bear Island, put down a rebellion in the Rills, and joined the Night’s Watch in an incursion beyond the Wall - TWoIaF

+.+

That's a Brandon, the tall one with the dreamy face, he was Brandon the Shipwright, because he loved the sea. His tomb is empty. He tried to sail west across the Sunset Sea and was never seen again.

SHIP GIRL, I SEE YOU! You can’t hide from me.

+.+

His son was Brandon the Burner, because he put the torch to all his father's ships in grief. There's Rodrik Stark, who won Bear Island in a wrestling match and gave it to the Mormonts. And that's Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt. He was the last King in the North and the first Lord of Winterfell, after he yielded to Aegon the Conqueror. Oh, there, he's Cregan Stark. He fought with Prince Aemon once, and the Dragonknight said he'd never faced a finer swordsman.

Is this all filler? Is somebody camouflaged here? Is Rickon hiding? Guys?

+.+

And there's my grandfather, Lord Rickard, who was beheaded by Mad King Aerys.

That’s... not how he was killed.

+.+

Robert fought a war to win her back. He killed Rhaegar on the Trident with his hammer, but Lyanna died and he never got her back at all.

Wait, how do people think she died? She’s dead, no explanation?

+.+

"As you see, he's not here. Nor will he be, for many a year. Dreams are only dreams, child." He thrust his arm into the blackness inside the tomb, as into the mouth of some great beast. "Do you see? It's quite empt—"       

The darkness sprang at him, snarling.

Bran saw eyes like green fire, a flash of teeth, fur as black as the pit around them. Maester Luwin yelled and threw up his hands. The torch went flying from his fingers, caromed off the stone face of Brandon Stark, and tumbled to the statue's feet, the flames licking up his legs. In the drunken shifting torchlight, they saw Luwin struggling with the direwolf, beating at his muzzle with one hand while the jaws closed on the other.    

I’m not built for this!

He thrust his arm into the blackness inside the tomb, as into the mouth of some great beast.

Tongue of flame, and now this. Do I have an explanation for you? No.

Bran saw eyes like green fire

Green fire used to describe Shaggydog’s eyes again. Do I have any additional commentary? No.

The torch went flying from his fingers, caromed off the stone face of Brandon Stark, and tumbled to the statue's feet, the flames licking up his legs.

This has to be an editing error, right? Or George changed course? Bran incorrectly states how Rickard Stark was killed, then we get imagery of what actually happened. Except it’s the wrong statue. Does my head hurt? Yes.

+.+

He slammed into Shaggydog and knocked him back, and the two direwolves rolled over and over in a tangle of grey and black fur, snapping and biting at each other

(...)

In the light of the guttering torch, shadow wolves twenty feet tall fought on the wall and roof.    

How much do I not enjoy two direwolves fighting? Especially when it involves Shaggydog.

shadow wolves twenty feet tall fought on the wall and roof.      

WHAT? Jon?

Every sentence is a game, and I’m badly losing.

+.+

"Shaggy," a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father's tomb.

How much do I not enjoy Rickon standing in the mouth of his father’s tomb?

It’s a little too obvious, right? A little too on the nose. I’m choosing to ignore it.

+.+

Rickon patted Shaggydog's muzzle, damp with blood. "I let him loose. He doesn't like chains." He licked at his fingers.    

Wh-why is he licking Luwin’s blood? Rickon, no. Stop that. Don’t eat people, Rickon. Bad Rickon.

+.+

I'm the third man he's savaged. Give him the freedom of the castle and it's only a question of time before he kills someone. The truth is hard, but the wolf has to be chained, or …" He hesitated.                 

… or killed, Bran thought, but what he said was, "He was not made for chains. We will wait in your tower, all of us."

"That is quite impossible," Maester Luwin said.                 

Osha grinned. "The boy's the lordling here, as I recall." She handed Luwin back his torch and scooped Bran up into her arms again. "The maester's tower it is."

"Will you come, Rickon?"                 

His brother nodded. "If Shaggy comes too," he said, running after Osha and Bran, and there was nothing Maester Luwin could do but follow, keeping a wary eye on the wolves.

MY SPIDEY SENSES.

Chained or killed. Chained or killed. Chained or killed.

Then to the maester’s tower. Will you come, Rickon? Bran’s the lordling here.

Am I crazy, or is that giving off Maester Rickon vibes? Chained! The maester’s tower! I’m crazy, right? I’m crazy.

BUT.

I can teach you history, healing, herblore. I can teach you the speech of ravens, and how to build a castle, and the way a sailor steers his ship by the stars. - Bran VI, AGOT

History, healing, herblore!

+.+

Maester Luwin's turret was so cluttered that it seemed to Bran a wonder that he ever found anything.

(...)

shadow maps lay scattered among the rushes, papers, quills, and pots of inks were everywhere

Seems like the perfect environment for a letter from the capital to go unnoticed for a year or two.

Ugh.

+.+

Take a lesson, Bran. The man who trusts in spells is dueling with a glass sword. As the children did.

Jon and Bran both instructed to not trust the power of magic, and both kind of ignore that lesson. It’s okay, they’ll figure it out.

The Horned Lord once said that sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it. - Jon X, ASOS

+.+

He stood abruptly, crossed the room, and returned with a green jar in his good hand. "Have a look at these," he said as he pulled the stopper and shook out a handful of shiny black arrowheads.     (...) "Can I keep one?"                 

"As you wish," the maester said.

"I want one too," Rickon said. "I want four. I'm four."    

Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m highlighting this. I’m paranoid at this point. Rickon has four obsidian arrowheads, Bran has one. Sure, whatever that means.

+.+

They lived in the depths of the wood, in caves and crannogs and secret tree towns. Slight as they were, the children were quick and graceful. Male and female hunted together, with weirwood bows and flying snares.

We learn about obsidian in this chapter, but there’s also a quiet mention of weirwood bows. Bloodraven’s weapon.

The king's bastard brother Brandon Snow offered to cross the Trident alone under cover of darkness, to slay the dragons whilst they slept. - TWoIaF

x

A dark-eyed youth, pale and fierce, sliced three branches off the weirwood and shaped them into arrows. - Bran III, ADWD

Why is Bran having visions of Brandon Snow? WHY.

She took a step forward. But then Drogon leapt from her shoulder. He flew to the top of the ebony-and-weirwood door, perched there, and began to bite at the carved wood. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

HE DOESN’T LIKE WEIRWOOD. SHE DOESN’T PLANT TREES. TREEEEES.

+.+

Their gods were the gods of the forest, stream, and stone, the old gods whose names are secret. Their wise men were called greenseers, and carved strange faces in the weirwoods to keep watch on the woods.

Bran, the greenseer, is the wise man of the children of the forest. Okay, I’m following.

+.+

As the First Men carved out holdfasts and farms, they cut down the faces and gave them to the fire. Horror-struck, the children went to war. 

(...)

Finally the wise of both races prevailed, and the chiefs and heroes of the First Men met the greenseers and wood dancers amidst the weirwood groves of a small island in the great lake called Gods Eye.                 

"There they forged the Pact. The First Men were given the coastlands, the high plains and bright meadows, the mountains and bogs, but the deep woods were to remain forever the children's, and no more weirwoods were to be put to the axe anywhere in the realm. So the gods might bear witness to the signing, every tree on the island was given a face, and afterward, the sacred order of green men was formed to keep watch over the Isle of Faces.

"The Pact began four thousand years of friendship between men and children. In time, the First Men even put aside the gods they had brought with them, and took up the worship of the secret gods of the wood. The signing of the Pact ended the Dawn Age, and began the Age of Heroes."    

Nope, I’m no longer following.

The war ends. The Pact is forged at the Isle of Faces. Land is divvied. The sacred order of green men was formed to keep watch over the Isle of Faces.

A pact? Will it be a pact?

What does it meannnnn???

Also, side note: Bran has to be at Harrenhal at the end. Right? He has to. Why would you put it right there!

Also, side note: wood dancers are the children that hunt. They sound exactly like Arya. I don’t know what point I’m trying to make.

+.+

"The Andals were the first, a race of tall, fair-haired warriors who came with steel and fire and the seven-pointed star of the new gods painted on their chests. The wars lasted hundreds of years, but in the end the six southron kingdoms all fell before them. Only here, where the King in the North threw back every army that tried to cross the Neck, did the rule of the First Men endure. The Andals burnt out the weirwood groves, hacked down the faces, slaughtered the children where they found them, and everywhere proclaimed the triumph of the Seven over the old gods. So the children fled north—"    

The Andals brought steel and fire. The kingdoms fell, only the North remained.

Getting major Queen of the Andals vs Stark First Men vibes from this!

Madness is overtaking me.

+.+

The howling stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Summer padded across the tower floor to Shaggydog, and began to lick at a mat of bloody fur on the back of his brother's neck. 

No more fighting! The lone wolf dies.

+.+

Rickon began to cry. His arrowheads fell from his hand one by one and clattered on the floor. Bran pulled him close and hugged him.    

The four obsidian arrowheads! Fell one by one!

I DON’T KNOW.

Is it Brandon, Lyanna, Ned, and Benjen?

Ned, Robb, Catelyn, Rickon? No. Stop it.

Four direwolves? Do two survive? Ghost, and...?

I’ve got nothing! I have failed you.

I have to walk away.

+.+

"What is it?" he said, holding his brother all the harder.         

"You know what it is, boy," Osha said, not unkindly. She put her hand on his head.    

Final thoughts:

Me, the past three days.

TREEEESSSS.

-> return to menu <-

[ode-to-fury]

Winter Thorns and Iron Crowns Pt. 1

Summary: Rickard and Lyarra Stark’s twin daughters accompany their father to their first ever tourney. I’ve been writing this ever since I finished a Dance with Dragons because I need some sort of outlet for my Emotions.

Pairings: Arthur Dayne x reader (eventual), Stannis Baratheon x reader (eventual)

Disclaimer: some of the characters were never in certain places in canon and I’m aware of this, but also I adore drama and suspense so we’ll call it creative license. Also I aged everyone up by two years for Robert’s Rebellion because I cannot stand the whole sixteen-year-old-dies-in-childbirth thing, sorry! I have a whole long fic planned out but I want to see how this does first.

“Land ho!”

Y/n’s head jerked upward as the shout came from the crow’s nest. The chess game in front of her was forgotten in an instant, and she jumped up, rushing outside just behind her sister.

Both of them hastened over to the side of the ship, unheeding of their father’s cries as they caught hold of the rigging and scrambled up a ways so they could see the coastline of Shipbreaker Bay come into view.

Lyanna let out a small sound of appreciation, and Y/n’s mouth fell open at the sight of Storm’s End in the distance. The harbour was bustling with ships of all shapes and sizes, and she saw flags flapping in the wind that she’d only ever seen in books before. The main source of her awe, however, was the large fortress atop the cliffs overlooking the harbour. It was smaller than Winterfell, sure, but few castles were bigger, and the thick walls and singular tower made it look like something out of a fairytale. It was something out of a fairytale. Y/n had made her mother tell her the story of the Storm king and the ocean’s daughter at least five times before they had left, ignoring Lyanna’s rolling eyes as she listened. She’d also had her mother tell her again and again how big the library in the castle was, almost buzzing with anticipation.

“Lyanna and Y/n Stark!” Their father’s booming voice shocked both of them out of their awestruck contemplation of the coast.

“Get down here this instant!”

They did, and endured a gruff speach about acting like proper emassaries from the North whilst they guested in lord Steffon’s halls. They glanced at each other, and managed to look sufficiently humbled, because their father turned around to speak with the captain of their boat. He did not see the face Lyanna pulled at his back.

The boat had taken them all the way down the eastern coast of Westeros from Whiteharbour. Y/n decided she would miss it dearly, being woken up by the gulls in the morning, feeling the breeze on her face as she and Lyanna scurried up and down the lines, learning knots and sailing from the crew. The things she would miss most, however, were the stories. While Lyanna was in the captain’s cabin with their father, learning how to read a map or use his intruments, she would sit for hours in the crow’d nest, making the lookout tell her all the landmarks they passed. And at night, when she could not sleep, sometimes the crew would gather around the fire and tell stories to each other, even singing softly when they would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, Ned!”

“Lya, I’ve told you, father said that the two of you have to stay here and work on your lessons, and then do needlework with lady Cassana and her ladies,” their brother answered.

Y/n was about to open her mouth to object, but Lyanna’s shrill protest came first.

“But we hunt with father all the time at home! I’m a better shot than you are!”

Ned’s face seemed to harden for a moment in a way that was quite unlike him.

“I won’t tell you again, Lya, and if you keep whinging I will call father over.”

“It’s all your fault!” Lyanna hissed at Y/n when Ned had left and they were walking dejectedly back to their lessons.

“My fault?”

“Yes! You are a terrible shot! He would have let me go if not for you.”

“Perhaps he would have let you go if you were not so horrible to be around- “

“Oh, believe me,” Lyanna said, folding her arms and striding off down the hallway, “I’m not the one who is horrible to be around.”

Y/n stopped in her tracks, wanting to shout back something that would hurt her sister even more, but none came to mind, and instead of following Lyanna down the hall, she sank down against the wall.

Second best again.

Lyanna had always been particularly good at finding the words that would hurt her the most. Her father said it came from being sisters, but Y/n thought, secretly, that perhaps it was just her sister.

Well, Y/n would not give her the satisfaction of trailing after her like a wounded dog, not this time.

Instead, she got to her feet and set off in the opposite direction, intending to find this incredible library, intending for at least some good to come out of this retched day. Storm’s End was much smaller than Winterfell, and the seaward side of the castle had thicker walls than she’d ever seen, to guard against the storms that blew in from Shipbreaker Bay.

But when it was not raining, there was so much sunshine!

Before long she was close to running down the curving halls of the castle and her anger had mostly faded in the face of her excitement. Lyanna would be so angry when she found out Y/n had spent the whole day in the library instead of doing her lessons or drinking tea.

At the end of a long corridor she turned a corner and ran straight into something solid that sent her sprawling to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stannis sat up from where he had fallen, trying to see what had knocked into him so hard.

It was one of the Stark girls.

They had all been introduced to one another two days ago when the Starks had arrived, along with Ned and Robert.

“Goodness!” Maester Cressen exclaimed as Stannis got up. The man held a hand out to the girl on the floor.

“Are you alright, lady Stark?”

He didn’t ask Stannis whether he was alright, the boy thought sourly.

The Stark girl took the Maester’s hand tentatively. On her right cheek, four thick red scars ran down from just below her eye to her jaw, narrowly missing the corner of her mouth.

“Yes,” she said, “Forgive me, my lord, I was not looking where I was going.”

Stannis nodded his forgiveness, but then caught the stare that Maester Cressen was giving him.

“That’s... quite alright,” he said. He saw the girl’s mouth twitch slightly.

She wasn’t that much younger than him, maybe seven or eight. Stannis had just turned nine.

“Well, my lady,” the Maester said, sighing slightly, “my name is Maester Cressen.”

“Y/n Stark,” she said, dropping into a quick curtsy.

Again, he was stared at by Maester Cressen, and he reluctantly said, “Stannis Baratheon,” with a nod at her.

This time she smiled fully, her eyes shone as she did.

“I was under the impression that the women would spend the day with my mother,” he said, before Maester Cressen could stare him into another conversation.

“I- “ she stopped, looking sheepish. “My sister Lyanna and I were trying to convince our brother to let us go on the hunt, but it didn’t work,” she said. A dark look passed over her face, but vanished almost as quickly.

“I was looking for the library...” she trailed off, looking at the Maester hopefully.

“Apparently it’s breathtaking.”

“Well, what a coincidence,” Maester Cressen said, making Stannis groan inwardly.

“Lord Stannis and I were just heading toward the library to finish his lessons for the day, if you would care to join us?”

Her face lit up, eyes shining.

“Oh thank you ever so much, Maester!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No doubt she had thought she would be given free range of the shelves.

Stannis could have warned her that Maester Cressen would never pass up an oppertunity for education. It was a strange quality in the man that he didn’t seem to realise when people were girls or boys, and Y/n Stark had no use for learning about battles of military strategy.

To her credit, however, she sat through the entire morning without complaining once, and only looked longingly at the shelves or windows a few times. She even answered some of Maester Cressen’s questions better than he could, especially on the lineages of different families.

Every now and again she would laugh at a jest Maester Cressen would try and make, and her smile reminded him of his mother in the way her eyes lit up with mirth.

“Well, lord Stannis, that seems to be all I have for you today,” the Maester said.

“Thank you, Maester,” he said dutifully.

“Thank you for letting me join you,” Y/n said, smiling gratefully at both of them.

“Of course,” Maester Cressen smiled back. “Stannis, perhaps you could escort the lady back to her rooms?”

The look he gave Stannis said that there actually was no perhaps about it. He so wished the man would stop assuming he was like Robert. He knew his duties.

He nodded, and held out an arm to Y/n. She took it, that little smile playing over her lips again. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, the left perfectly, the right slightly contorted because of the scars.

The second the were out of the door, however, she let go of his arm, which he was grateful for. He disliked touching people.

“This way,” he said, turning and taking her toward the guest rooms.

They walked in silence for a while.

“Thank you, my lord,” she eventually said.

He grunted.

“Really,” she insisted, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had to sot and do needlework all day.”

“You sat and learned history all day,” he said.

“At least it was something new,” she said, smiling at him.

He frowned.

“Needlework is fine,” she explained, seeming to know he was at a loss. “For a while. History is fine, for a while. Riding and hawking and running are all fine, until they become too monotonous,” she added when she caught him looking at her sideways.

He frowned again. He’d never thought of it that way. There was just what he was supposed to be doing and what he wasn’t supposed to be doing. They spoke little back to the Stark quarters, yet when he bowed to her father, returned by now from the hunt, and she offered him a sheepish smile which only slightly disguised her very obvious trepidation at him leaving, he found himself smiling back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had never been good at speaking to people.

Her mind wanders too much, her mother would say sadly, how will she ever find a husband if she cannot speak to suitors, Rickard?

With the beauty she begot from her mother, my darling, her father would say and then both of her parents would smile slightly, knowing full well that Y/n looked like neither of them and that Lyanna was the prettier twin.

The daughters of some of the lords at their father’s disposal had never wasted time pointing it out, and calling her Scarface, and worse names, and though it hurt Y/n enough that she would sometimes shed tears over it, she had never worried overly much about finding a husband. She had always assumed her father would arrange a match eventually, and if he didn’t... well it wasn’t like it would be the worst thing in the world.

Lyanna always yelled at the girls who made fun of her anyway. According to her sister, no one was allowed to make fun of Y/n. She usually said this right before an argument started and Lyanna started calling her by the same names.

She preferred books to having to speak, because she’d already had three thoughts by the time most people had said a sentence, and by then she couldn’t remember what it was she had wanted to say when the conversation began. In books people never had scars, and everyone was kind and valiant, and no one ever forgot what they wanted to say. Some people even understood each other without having to speak.

So, she mainly kept to herself, her books, and her horse and falcon. Exploring the lands and woods around Winterfell, sometimes with Lyanna or Bran, whenever he was home, but mostly alone.

Stannis, however... they hadn’t spoken much on the way back to her rooms. She would comment on something about the Keep, which fascinated her enough that she could get past her natural shyness, and he would look at her sideways until she clarified. Then he would offer a short explanation, and they would be back to companionable silence.

She’d never had a companionable silence with anyone but her siblings, and now with this strange, lanky, boy with the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating yandere Rickard Stark would include.

Here you go! Hope you enjoy

[ao3feed-tywin]

I swear it by the Old Gods, and the New (Sandor Clegane x Female!Reader)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3g8f8t7

by Squiish

You had grown up allies with house Lannister, a high-born young woman such as yourself would be an ideal Queen for the recently-crowned King Joffrey, refusing such a proposal would surely mean devastation for your houses' centuries-old bond, however your heart lies elsewhere and you'd sooner die than marry the King of Winterfell.

Words: 1080, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Female Reader - Character, Original Female Character(s), Sandor Clegane, The Hound - Character, Tyrion Lannister, Myrcella Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister, King Slayer, Joffrey Baratheon, Tommen Baratheon, The Mountain - Character, Gregor Clegane, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Arya Stark, Ned Stark, Samwell Tarly, Gilly (ASoIaF), Daenerys Targaryen, Tormund Giantsbane, Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger, Robb Stark, Brienne of Tarth, Gendry Waters, Bran Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Catelyn Tully Stark, Rickon Stark, Davos Seaworth, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Ramsay Bolton, Tywin Lannister, Podrick Payne, Oberyn Martell, Benjen Stark, Hodor (ASoIaF), Kevan Lannister, Original House Lannister Character(s), Theon Greyjoy, Grey Worm, Yara Greyjoy, Euron Greyjoy, Balon Greyjoy, Grey Wind (ASoIaF), Alannys Greyjoy, Aeron "Damphair" Greyjoy, Original House Greyjoy Character(s), Greyjoys (ASoIaF), Lyanna Stark, Brandon Stark, Rickard Stark, Original House Stark Character(s), Alys Karstark, Starks (ASoIaF), Khal Drogo, Varys (ASoIaF), Mae

Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader, The Hound/ Reader, Ser Clagane/ Reader, GOT/ Reader, The Hound (Sandor Clegane)/ Reader

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3g8f8t7

[greycloudsinwinter]

Master list ❤️❤️

A court of thorns and roses:

Platonic inner circle x reader x romantic azriel

Cassian x reader

High lord rhysand x reader

Thesan high lord of dawn x reader

My hero academia:

Endeavour x reader

Twisted wonderland:

Jamil x reader

Bridgerton:

Poly bridgerton boys x reader

Colin bridgerton x reader

Game of thrones/ hotd :

The mountain x reader

Khal drogo x targeryan reader

Khal drogo x escaped reader

Khal drogo question

Khal drogo x reader smut

Jamie Lannister protected x reader

Maegor x reader

Rhaegar targeryan x reader

Maegor x wife reader with child

Aegon I x reader

Rickard stark x reader

Tywin Lannister x targeryan fist wife reader

Harry Potter / fantastic beasts :

Gellert grindelwald x reader

Orion black x reader

Hobbit/ lotr :

Thranduil x fairy reader

Thranduil x fairy reader with children

[averagewriter-inthedark]

HC: Being a well known female warrior in Westeros and going beyond with the Wall w/ Jon & the crew

Masterlist

Characters include: Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane, Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, Jorah Mormont, Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr and Gendry Waters/Baratheon

I don’t own any of the plots or characters of ASOIAF/GOT that all belongs to George R. R. Martin

(slight Sandor x reader and Tormund x reader)

This will serve as a prompt for an upcoming imagine

Warnings: profanity, angst, violence, death, mention’s sex, implications of assault so do not read if that will trigger you. 

Being a well known female warrior of Westeros and going beyond the Wall with Jon and the crew would include:

Your house came from Storm’s End and was loyal to the Targaryen’s. Your father, a brave and noble Lord had trained you to be fierce and defend yourself being you were his only child and heir at the time until a son was born to him when you were eighteen. Though you were no longer his heir, your father still raised you as you were so if something were to happen to him anytime soon then you would be ready to take over his duties until your brother was of age. 

You dueled, you spared, you were a skilled archer and swordswomen. By the time you were fifteen there had been rumors around the country of a who woman who could duel several men at a time and never lose a challenge. 

The skills you possessed had King Aerys impressed and even the Mad King once commented that you would have been a fine knight if you hadn’t been a woman. Part of you hoped he would stray from tradition, but even you knew a man like him would never while he stood on the Iron Throne. 

It was months after your nineteenth name day that the War in Westeros happened after Prince Rheagar “kidnapped” Lyanna Stark which resulted in Lord Rickard and his son Brandon being burned alive by King Aerys as they tried to get her back. 

When the Rebellion sparked, your family stood beside House Targaryen and fought against those who opposed. Your father urged you to go into hiding with your brother, but you refused saying you would never abandon your family. You would come to regret that decision the day the Lannister forces invaded your home led by the deadly knight Ser Gregor Clegane.

The stories and things the man did left you trembling with fear. All the training and skills you had were not a match between the man and you could only watch helplessly as you laid bloodied on the ground while he slaughtered you family along side his men. You could barely see with the blood cascading down your face after you were slashed by the Mountain across you cheek when he flung you to the ground. Your father, mother, and brother had already perished by the time he got to you. 

The desire in his eye concluded he had sinister plans with you and luckily the fallen knife you dropped was not far from your grasp. After ripping your gear off and starting to remove his own was when you managed to kick the man in the groin causing him to falter and quickly grab the knife. You drove it into his side and landed another hard punch to the face, which allowed you the room to get away from him. Grabbing your ancestral family sword off the ground and the fallen cloak that laid beside, you sprinted from the room not even bothering to cast a look to the deceased around you.

Never looking back as you avoided the Lannister forced by taking the secret pathways through the home, you sprinted the barn while placing the cloak around you and hopped on the nearest horse. Your face was still bloodied which you knew would leave a nasty scar and your body ached. But you never looked back when you snapped the reigns of the horse and let the animal take you far from the nightmare. 

It had been eighteen years since that fateful day and you were still on the run. Tywin Lannister never forgot about you and had a large sum of gold for the man who brought him your head. There was no use for trying to keep you hostage or marry you off to one of his sons.  You were a traitor to the Kingdoms in his eyes and threat to the throne. 

During this time you traveled all over the world, trying to remain hidden. Even going as far as spending several years in Braavos where you learned to speak Valyrian. You continued to travel around Essos, but it was when you heard rumors of the Night King that led you back to Westeros. By then it had been almost a decade you were in Essos and unaware of all the chaos taking place in your home country.

You went North first, avoiding King’s Landing at all cost when you heard Cersei was ruler and knew if she caught you then your head would be on a spike. 

The journey was difficult and you didn’t know exactly where you were since you lacked a map. It wasn’t until you caught sight of the Wall that you realized how North you had traveled. The area you stumbled to was Eastwatch by the sea and you were unprepared when men surrounded you with bows and ordered that you followed them. What made you confused and a little unnerved was the men were not dressed in traditional black the Brothers of the Night’s Watch would wear, no they were wearing greyish furs.

You were brought to the castle before a large, red-bearded man who’s name had you guessing the men manning the castle were not from the area of Westeros south of the Wall. He introduced himself as Tormund Giantsbane and began to question you.

You told him you would only tell him who you were if he told you who he was and what has happened in Westeros the past several years. He was adamant at first, but when he saw the slight fear in your eyes the man finally told you all you wanted to know. 

You wouldn’t reveal your identity when he mentioned that Ned Stark’s bastard son, Jon was King in the North. Your family had tensions with the Starks, especially since you were Targaryen loyalists and they fought against each other during the Rebellion. Ned may be gone, but you didn’t know how his son would be. He could kill you himself or give you up to Cersei.

Instead of revealing your name and origin, you told the bearded fellow you were from Braavos named Nadine and how you had heard about the army of the dead which made you want to fight to prevent the rest of the world from perishing in the Long Night. It was obvious Tormund was skeptical of your claims, and you grew frustrated when he ordered his men to take you to a cell until he had word with Jon.

You never talked whenever Tormund or the other wildlings came down to the cells to give you food or ask you if you wanted to tell them the truth. Even when he came to bring you new clothes that consisted of traditional Night’s Watch attire he was able to find, you kept silent.

 Instead, you spent every minute in the cold, dark cell sitting in the corner away from hindsight just staring out the small window that gave you a little glimpse of the sky. You thought about your family and how you missed them so much. You thought about what life was like before the Rebellion, and you thought about what the future will entail with the rise of the Night King coming for Westeros. 

Time passed and soon came new arrivals to the cells. You stayed hidden in the corner when they were thrown in and from the sounds of it, and from the sounds of it you concluded there had to be at least three men in the cell across from you. They were muffled, a side effect from when the Mountain burst your eardrum all those years ago, but when you finally managed to get a good listen at the men arguing, you felt your body freeze and heart pick up the pace.

 It had been years since you encountered Sandor Clegane and even longer for Beric Dondarrion. In the time where there was peace in Westeros during King Aerys’s rule you found yourself present at several duels and gatherings the two were at. You were civil with Beric, the man respecting you and you would even have called him a friend before shit had hit the fan. 

Sandor however was a different story. You two had grown close in the years you were of acquaintance with him. There was a mutual attraction between the two of you and one sleepless night you both acted on that attraction. While everyone slept the night away, you were being taken by Sandor over and over again as he brought you to your climax in the small tent away from everyone else. That was the last time you saw the man, he had left your side before morning and never once saw you before you were set to leave home the next day. 

You shivered at the memory and slowly inched more into the dark corner that hid you away from the light. You never dared moved away from it and kept your face hidden in the cloak around you. By the next morning you were well aware they had suspicions of someone being in the cell you were in because of the food that laid on the ground waiting to be picked up. The entire day you stayed hidden and only moved from the corner to get the food when night arrived and then men were passed out from exhaustion. 

The same routine occurred for days. On several occasions you could here Beric call out to you, unaware of who you were of course, saying to not be afraid. You mentally scoffed when he would say that, you were not afraid of them per se, but you didn’t trust them. The moment they recognized you all they would see is the reward for your capture. 

More time passed, until one day you heard several footsteps entering the room. You listened closely as best as you could, picking up several voices. They were talking to the three across from you and by Tormund’s words you were able to find out that Beric, Sandor and the other man you had yet to identify were planning to go beyond the Wall.

Then someone said not to trust them saying how they sold them to a Witch, and finally another voice spoke which had your heard skip, recognizing it immediately. Jorah addressed Thoros, and through that interaction you heard the hostility between Tormund toward the disgraced night. 

The air grew tense and the men were discussing the outrageous idea of going beyond the Wall to find a wright. You kept as silent as you could to hear what all was being said. Then the sound of a key twisting and a door being open filled your ears. 

“What should we do with this one here?”

You mentally cursed at Tormund’s voice and you knew the jig was up. A deep voice ordered you to come forward and you sighed before finally standing. You kept your chin held high when your foot hit the spot of light in the cell and your body following after. The light shined on your face, making it visible. It was quiet when you approached, but when your eyes scanned the men you could see the shocked faces of the ones who recognized you and the confused of those who didn’t.

While the scar you received from Gregor Clegane cascaded from the top of your forehead down to your chin, it didn’t take away from your distinguishable features and anyone who crossed your path would be able to recall your face.

Sandor, Beric, and Jorah were completely frozen, their eyes locked on your figure with the former having a small gap between his lips. Your eyes landed on the man with a wolf emblem on his chest plate, indicating he was the one they called King in the North. The other men you didn’t recognize at all, so you simply ignored them while you focused your attention on the others.

“Seven Hells,” Sandor breathed out, and you couldn’t help the un-humorours chuckle you let out. Leaning against the bars that divided you from them group. 

 “My Gods, I thought you were dead all these years.” Jorah’s tone held the same as Sandor’s, completely astonished.

“Jorah, Beric,” you sent a glare to the bearded man, “Sandor. What a surprise to see you all after all this time.” The other men were confused by what was happening and eyed you suspiciously. It was obvious you had history with the three, but clueless to what that was.

“I’m sorry, who are you,” Jon spoke causing you to look at him, your face blank and lack of emotion. You were going to answer but the Hound  beat you to it. “Y/N fucking L/N.” Jon and the men you had yet to know their name snapped their heads toward Sandor before looking back at you with wide eyes. The pieces coming together for them with the exception of Tormund who was unaware by the history you and your house had with Westeros.

“You’re Y/N of House L/N? The only daughter of Lord Y/F/N L/N, who was said to be the first female knight of Westeros,” The boy with the buzz cut spoke through the silence making you scoff and narrow your eyes. Moving so you were directly in front of him, you spat “I was never a knight, you silly boy. Not even a King as mad as Aerys would bestow such a title on a woman. I was just a tough bitch who never lost a fight against any man who dared swing a sword at me.”

The air was tense and you were no stranger to the glares you received from several of the men. “You fuckers going to stand there and stare or are you going to figure out what the fuck to do with me.”

There was debate between Jon and the men to decide what to do with you. You made it clear to the young King that giving you to Cersei was no option, stating you will cut your own throat before you will be delivered to her like a pig going to a butcher to be slaughtered. 

Sandor never kept his eyes off you the whole time, whenever you met his gaze you would glare in return. 

“How about I go with you North,” you offered after a while, silencing the chatter, “Think about it, I have no where to go as my family is dead. I have no will to live so if I die out there, then that’s sure fucking better than Cersei having the pleasure to kill me on her fathers behalf. Plus I am a expert fighter as you may have heard from the stories, Jorah, Beric and Sandor can even vouch on that.”

In all your life you had always wondered what lurked beyond the Wall. Finally getting that chance to see was unlike anything you expected as your feet dragged through the snow while keeping up with the group. 

The journey was long and consisted mainly of you speaking with each of your traveling companions of what your life had been the last 18 years. Jon was the first you spoke with, followed by Gendry, Tormund, Thoros and Beric with finally ending with Sandor.

It was hard telling him about what happened with his brother. Even though you managed to get away before Gregor could go through with his horrific plan, it still mentally scarred you. Sandor kept silent as you spoke about the day you family was killed and you fleeing to Essos, the years you spent in Braavos and staying hidden from Tywin and King Robert. He couldn’t help the guilt he felt for leaving you that day in the tent and never saying goodbye. He was heartbroken by the news of your families slaughter, believing you to have been in the mix and he could still feel the immense anger towards his brother when he boasted about taking you and killing you.

You and Thoros would pass the rum to each other, you both speaking in Valyrian whenever you grew annoyed with the grumbling men around you. Tormund would try to flirt with you here in and there which made you roll your eyes although you couldn’t help but laugh at the irritated look Sandor would give him. 

When Gendry had asked the wildling fellow on how they keep their balls from freezing off, the red-bearded giant glanced at you as he smirked when saying fucking was the best to keep warm. You scoff at him, but couldn’t help but smirk at him back which made the man look hopeful after you send him a wink. 

It was nice reuniting with Jorah, who at one point was like a mentor to you and someone your family highly respected. You remember being sad the day you heard about his crime and being exiled, so it was nice to see he had remained alive and well throughout the passing years. It was during a conversation one night on the expedition that he told you of Daenerys. You were shocked to know the girl had survived the rebellion and was taken to Essos. 

There was no doubt you wanted to meet the young Queen after Jorah spoke of her. Your house was loyal to the Targaryen's for centuries and you would not break faith with them any time soon. 

Fighting against wrights was something you never imagines happening in your life time. Your sword swung with might and grunts left your lips as you fought your way through the swarm of the dead rushing at you. Thoros had been dead through the night after becoming injured in a fight the day before and here the rest of the group were on a frozen lake against hundreds.

When Daenerys arrived with her dragons you couldn’t stop the gasp from leaving your lips, amazed by the sight before you. The large one dropped on the ground and you could see the young Queen on its back reaching out for Jon and the others. 

She helped you up the large beast and you felt Tormund bring you to his chest, helping you sit and feel secure. It was heartbreaking when you witnessed one of the dragons get hit with the ice spear and falls from the sky. The screams of anguish it let out followed by the cries of its brothers brought tears to your eyes and you watched helplessly as the young dragon sank in the frozen water.

It was when you all saw the Night King take another spear that you gasped by the sudden take off of the dragon you were on. You grabbed Tormund’s arm that was rested on your waist and whatever scale you reach, holding on while the dragon soared away.

After arriving back at Eastwatch, you meet properly with Daenerys where you bend the knee and pledge your loyalty to her. She was shocked by how quickly you swore to her and did it without question, but when you reveal your name and house it all makes sense to her. 

The Queen welcomes you to her to her court, saying she would be honored to have you by her side when she takes the Iron Throne. You were thrown off when you see Tyrion almost taking your sword to cut him in half, but Jorah stops you and explains to you that he is Daenerys’ hand. It doesn’t stop you from glaring at the dwarf, but you sheath your sword back and promise to not hurt him.

When asked to join Daenerys on her journey to King’s Landing you were at first hesitant. You didn’t doubt the fact the Lannister Queen would want you dead, but if you managed to survive all that you had in the almost two decades including an army of wrights, then you could survive the bitch herself.

“I’ll join you, my Queen. I think it’s time a reunite with my ‘old friend’ wouldn’t you think?”

Let’s just say Tormund was pleasantly delighted when you knocked on his chamber door the night before you left asking if he could warm you up on the cold winter night ;). 

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Horns That Hold a Crown

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, Ned Stark x Baratheon!Reader

Warnings: none really

Words: 2814

Summary: The only daughter of Steffon Baratheon, and to Aerys you were th eonly suitable bride for his son Rhaegar. Your previokus engagement to Ned Stark was broken. Now you found yourself the bride of a dragon instead that of a wolf.

The proposal caught Steffon Baratheon completely off guard.

“E-Excuse me your Grace?”

King Aerys rolls his pale lilac eyes. “You heard me. You have a daughter don’t you? Targaryen blood in the Baratheon family may be diluted but it’s still there. Enough so that I can marry Rhaegar to your daughter.”

He probably should’ve felt honor yet all Steffon could feel was apprehension coiling in his gut. In the past years the king’s mental health had fallen in a rapid decline that worried his court. The last thing he wanted to do was put his only daughter in harm’s way. True that Rhaegar Targaryen was an upstanding young man that any maid would want to marry, but that would mean his little girl would be near the king’s madness.

That and he had already betrothed her to Eddard Stark, the second son of Rickard Stark.

He couldn’t just say no to the King of Westeros though. Otherwise he might meet his death with wildfire.

Steffon keeps his expression calm as he bows to his king. “Of course your Grace. I shall send arrangements right away.”

‘Forgive me (y/n).’

*

“A letter from father?” You eagerly grab the rolled up piece of parchment from the retainer.

Renly hops around you trying to get at it. “What does it say (y/n)?”

“It says your an impatient little brat that needs to learn self-control.” Light heartedly you tease him. Renly grins cheekily and holds onto your arm. You break the wax seal and begin to read. The lower you get through the page the more your smile vanishes.

“What’s wrong?” Renly asks noticing your widened eyes.

“I’m. . . “I’m to marry Rhaegar Targaryen.” All the breath leaves you, your father’s letter fluttering to the ground where your little brother picks it up.

He scrunches his nose. “That can’t be right. You’re betrothed to Ned Stark. How could father forget that?”

Limply you sit down on a stone bench that was provided in the courtyard of Storm’s End castle. You felt your head go light as you try not to faint. “I don’t think he forgot Renly.”

There was further confusion on his face. “I don’t understand. You’re supposed to marry Ned.”

Biting your lip you pull Renly beside you. “Things change Renly. If this is the King’s will then of course father has to obey and break my engagement to Ned. It would be best for our family too I suppose. Marrying Rhaegar would mean some day I would be queen.”

At that Renly’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah! That is a lot better than marrying some northern lord!”

You wished you could share your brother’s enthusiasm. It wasn’t like you loved the fiance you had now. Ned Stark hardly smiled and he was as cold as his northern land. Something just didn’t settle right with you though.

Queen.

Someday you would be a queen.

Was that what made you feel queasy? Any other girl would kill for the title of Rhaegar’s queen. You however would’ve been happy enough to live out your days in the north where the only fear they had was wildlings and winter. Unlike King’s Landing where they played the dangerous game of thrones. A game where everyone is your enemy and if you make one small slip it could very well cost you your life. You didn’t want to live in constant fear. What kind of life would that be if you were constantly looking over your shoulder and unable to eat anything because it could be poisoned. You would be like King Aerys. Was being ruler of all the seven kingdoms really worth his sanity? You didn’t think so.

The news ultimately spread quickly throughout Storm’s End about your betrothal to the crown prince and how you would be traveling to King’s Landing by order of your father. To seal the deal and for your soon-to-be husband to see you.

Renly wanted to badly to go with you, but your mother insisted that he stay with your older brother Stannis. The two didn’t get along well; then again Stannis didn’t really get along with anyone.

Before Renly could throw a fit you calmed him down. “I’ll send for you when the time comes. I promise.”

“Don’t take too long.” Renly simpers and gives you a great big hug.

“I love you Renly. Behave for Stannis and the maesters.”

You turn to said brother as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other before deciding a simple pat on the shoulder would suffice. “Make our family proud (y/n).”

It was the best you could expect from Stannis. “Take care Stannis.”

*

Rhaegar stared at his father incredulously. “(y/n) Baratheon? But she’s betrothed to-”

“She was betrothed to Ned Stark, but now she’s betrothed to you. She has Targaryen blood in her. Even if it’s diluted it’s still something. Far too valuable to be mingling with some low lord of the north.” Aerys waves off his son’s concern. “You need a bride with a pedigree worthy enough to bear you an heir. And since your mother has failed to give birth to a daughter, (y/n) will have to do.”

“Surely the Starks will see this as a slight. . .” Relationships were already very fragile concerning his father. They didn’t need enemies in the north.

He laughs bitterly. “They’ll do whatever I say!” Aerys’ gnarly fingers that possessed ever growing nails, wrap around his goblet’s stem as he moves the rim to his lips.

Uneasiness settled in Rhaegar’s stomach like a heavy stone. His father’s disregard for others concerned him greatly as the king spiraled down into his madness.

“It’s about time you got married.” His father grumbles and takes a deep sip. “She’s the best bride we’ll ever find for you. Tywin has offered up his daughter Cersei, but lets face it. He is my servant. I can’t have my servant’s daughter marrying the heir to the throne. Then there’s that Dornish princess.” He scoffs at that. “Dornish. How insulting. Yes, (y/n) is the best one out there. The Baratheons are a hardy line. She will produce many sons for you. Strong sons. Perhaps even a daughter.”

Rhaegar didn’t argue. He was indeed at the age where young lords were expected to be married. It was a little bit more difficult marrying him off though considering that he would one day rule Westeros.

Still, he didn’t like the idea of taking someone else’s bride. He didn’t know Eddard Stark at all. But he knew how prideful the Starks were. He knew how stuck to tradition they were. Maybe Ned loved (y/n). Rhaegar didn’t know.

He wondered what kind of lady that his bride to be was. He’d never met her before but he had met Steffon Baratheon. The man obviously cared deeply for his daughter. His only daughter. This must not have been easy for him to do. Rhaegar knew that Steffon must’ve been extremely hesitant to do so. Even with the prospect of marrying into royalty, who in their right mind would want to subject their daughter to Aerys? 

~

There were no expectations when (y/n) Baratheon’s ship docked in Blackwater Bay. Rhaegar had wanted to go and meet her there but his father had scoffed at the idea and wanted his son to stay put in the Red Keep. They would come to him, not the other way around. So Rhaegar stay put, tapping his foot incessantly and and pacing around the throne room to keep his nerves at bay. This was after all the woman he’d be spending the rest of his life with. The woman who would give him children. Someone he’d have to protect from the long winter that was to come. The long winter that he had read, one that made him become a warrior prince. The Starks were right that winter was indeed coming. He’d be ready for it though. He’d make sure (y/n) was ready too.

Finally Rhaegar spotted the Baratheon stags that were embroidered onto every banner that was closing in on the Keep. The entourage spilled into the Great Hall where the Iron Throne was kept. Up on it was King Aerys, as withered as ever. His eyes narrowed as he watches the stags fill up the hall. There next to Steffon Baratheon stood his daughter (y/n). Rhaegar felt a small breath exalt from his body as she stepped forward with her father, head held high and deep blue eyes meeting Rhaegar’s immediately. She held herself with pride and confidence but in those mesmerizing eyes of her’s Rhaegar found a little bit of hesitation. Of uncertainty.

Women like that normally tried to hold the air of being hard, but not (y/n). A soft smile that made Rhaegar feel like a blushing maiden. It brought a new light to her. Yes she was confident but she was also gentle and reassuring. Whatever doubts she had about Rhaegar, he was now determined to rid her of them. It was the strength and softness Rhaegar found in her rich blue eyes.

Even though he felt bad for taking Ned Stark’s bride, Rhaegar no longer worried too much about the northern man.

*

The meeting had gone well, at least that’s what you had thought. You congratulated yourself for not cringing away from Aerys as he looked at you with such eery eyes. They no longer possessed the between that his son and wife had. The whites were tinged with red agitation, telltale signs of his lack of sleep. Luckily he didn’t stay to talk for too long. He only saw you and your father out of duty. That was fine by you. The sooner the Mad King was out of your sight, the better. You found yourself pitying the beautiful Rhaella. She deserved better than Aerys.

You spoke few words with your future husband before you were carted away to your room. Those few minutes that you spent with Rhaegar had you understanding why so many maidens would kill to be in your position. He was as handsome as the stories said he was and had such a soft baritone that was pleasing to your ears. He could be speaking normally and still sound like he was singing. His voice had that beautiful lilting quality to it that had you shedding away all of your tiredness from travel.

This was the man you were to marry. You would be his queen. Bear his heirs and such. The continuation of the Targaryen family would rest entirely on your shoulders. If you failed. . . If you failed it would not only be shameful to the Targaryens but to the Baratheons as well. So much hope was being put into you. Not that your father cared one bit about the elevation of his status, but all the others did. That was something you never had to worry about with marry Ned. Your union would’ve been a simple one and you would’ve been free to live out your days peacefully in Winterfell. If you were being honest with yourself that was all you had ever wanted. You cared not for extravagances; you would be content enough with a man who respected you and made sure that you and your children would always be taken care of.

All the extra stuff you would be getting with Rhaegar was more than you would ever ask for. It sent you into a slight panic as you pressed your burning forehead to the cool windowpane that provided your room with the gentle glow of the sun setting. This whole entire city would be your’s. All of Westeros would be your’s too.

If you failed to be a good queen, what would happen to you? If you failed to provide Rhaegar a son, what would happen? The only answer you could come up with was death. Of course just from your first meeting with him you knew Rhaegar wasn’t the kind of man to kill his wife over not having sons. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. You had no idea what kind of man he truly was except for the stories you had been told of him and so far they match up to what you have seen.

People could be quite good at lying though.

You groan when you realize you had been biting your nails. It was a nasty habit you had picked up when you were a young child and had stuck with you. You often did it during times of immense stress and anxiety. Your mother would always scold you when she caught you. It was quite unladylike but you couldn’t help it even when your septa would slap your fingers with a stick.

Pulling your hands away from your mouth you go about to pacing around your room. You were in King’s Landing, so now what? Just wait until the wedding ceremony?

A knock to your door made you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Who is it?”

“Rhaegar.” You could practically hear his smile in his voice.

You quickly composed yourself before answering the door. “Your Grace, how can I help you?”

He waves off the use of his title. “None of that is necessary. We’ll be married, remember? Anyway I was wondering if you would come and join me in a little stroll before supper. I can show you around the Keep so you can familiarize yourself.”

Fresh air sounded like the best idea to you. You eagerly left with Rhaegar and let him lead you through the castle, showing you each corridor and where they lead, where so and so had once lived, and out into the courtyard. You found yourself rid of your anxiety after he had showed you the first few floors of the Keep. Now you felt at ease by his side. The two of you had been sharing anecdotes of your childhood and the friends you had made through the years.

Rhaegar sent a stableboy away when the two of you made it to the stables. The smell of hay was a welcoming scent. He introduced you to the many horses that his family possessed as if they were actual people.

He lowers his voice as he pats at the neck of a reddish horse. “This one here is my particular favorite. Say hello to Kvothe.”

“Kvothe? That’s an odd name.” Regardless you curtsy to the horse making Rhaegar smile. You found yourself adoring that smile more and more.

“I’m happy you’re relaxed now.”

You lift your head up. “What makes you think I wasn’t relaxed before?”

Rhaegar shrugs and goes to give Kvothe a carrot. Giant teeth clamp down on the poor vegetable. “I didn’t know at first. I suspected that you were a little wary of your new surroundings which is completely understandable. You held yourself well in front of the court. Proud and strong, just like any good queen. When I went to your room though your body language told me that you weren’t exactly relaxed with the idea of being here.”

“It did take a lot out of me being there with so many people.” You confessed. “I don’t know how I’m gonna keep it up for the rest of my life. Pretending I’m a good candidate to be queen.”

He furrowed his brows and looked away from his horse. “Are you worried about that?”

You lean back against a pillar that separated the stable stalls. “Of course I am. I’m going to be queen of seven kingdoms! Not one, seven! I’m gonna have to go in front of crowds on a daily basis.”

Pursing his lips, he scoots over so that he’s standing next to you, his hip bumping into your side. “If it makes you feel any better you won’t be alone in it. I’ll be with you. We’re gonna rule together.”

That did make you feel better. Through all your imagenings you had forgotten about Rhaegar. You weren’t alone in this.

“And for what it’s worth I think you’ll make a wonderful queen. It wasn’t a show you were putting on earlier. That’s who you are inside. Strong and confident. You’ll find your footing, given time.” The silver strands of his hair caught and absorbed the vibrant orange that filled the air as the sun died behind the mountains.

You hide your blush with a smile. “But what is a doe compared to a dragon?”

The most beautiful fingers you have ever seen reach out for your (h/c) hair and gently tucks it behind your ear. If it were anyone else you would’ve told them not to touch you. But you wanted Rhaegar to touch you. You wanted to feel his palm on your cheek and his lips against your’s. “A pretty doe like you would look even better with a crown on her head than a dragon ever would.”

[welcometohellweofferimagines]

Game of Thrones Preference: First Kiss [iii]

GAME OF THRONES LADIES x GENDER NEUTRAL READER

part i. cersei part ii. melisandre part iv. brienne

[ part three / four ]

Catelyn Tully:

Her auburn hair was like fire beside the black of her Stark betrothed. You wondered how a southron fish like your Cat could live in the colds of Winterfell; where she would bear wolf heirs among the stones of her grey castle... and forget you.  

It was no secret you loved Catelyn Tully. Many did, including the young Petyr Baelish, who followed her like a shadow. As children, however, you had thought that perhaps she loved you in return. There was no end to her soft smiles, and towards you she acted the most gentle. At times, you were inseparable, found together in the gardens, or washing your feet in the ponds, attached at the hip at dinner; but what elevated you above the rest, was that Cat allowed no one else but you to wait with her for her father’s return.

And now you’d lose her forever.  

Brandon was handsome and as impressive as his father. You were nothing to compare, just a young [lady/lord] with half the wealth and even less land and men, housed in your Lord Hoster’s castle to await a proper marriage. Cat could never be tied to you. And how could she, ever brilliant, beautiful, strong, love you?

With her nuptials nearing, she found you absent the more she sought you out. The anguish in you marred all memories you had with her, turning what affection you thought she bore for you into falsehood, dreams you had conjured because you, insignificant you, loved her, as you shouldn’t do.  

The thought that this might distress her never solidified in you. She could do without you, you were convinced of that. When Lord Hoster announced your own betrothal at dinner one night, you felt too numb to even glance towards her, there where she sat with Brandon. You could barely manage a smile.  

Petyr was the first to approach with his congratulations. His smile was much too satisfied to be genuine.  

Deep down you knew this saccharine, seemingly gentle boy was glad: you would not have Cat just like he could not. He was clever enough to know of your attachment.

One dance, a little conversation with Lord Rickard Stark, and an introduction with your soon-to-be spouse later, you found yourself hiding in the garden, as far from prying eyes as possible, with just the moon and the owls to witness your tears. Loneliness crept in. How could you bear a life without your Cat? Married, away from the home you’d found here, you and she forever separated.  

A twig snapped. Otherwise, you would not have noticed her approach. She was soft-footed, graceful. And when you turned to look at her, she was so beautiful in the pale moonlight, that you only cried anew.  

Catelyn became bewildered. She forgot her daintiness and rushed to your side, silk sleeves billowing outwards as she all but fell to the grass. Her hands found your face, cupping them so gently, like she used to when you were children.  

“What is the matter, [Y/N/N]?”

You didn’t dare tell her. You made an excuse. A terrible one. Then, another, which didn’t fare any better than the last one under her sharp judgements.  

At last, Catelyn tried, “Are you worried? Afraid? Nervous of this upcoming marriage?”

It took a moment to realise she meant not her marriage, but yours. Yes, of course. You were to be married — soon after her. You nodded, emphatically.  

Catelyn settled down beside you, withdrawing her touch from your cheeks. Even as she sighed, a sorrow in that sound, she busied herself in arranging her skirts; but you didn’t realise it was to hide her own tears pricking at her eyes.  

“Yes. I understand, [Y/N/N]. I... feel it, too. It is a large leap for us, no? But I do believe your betrothed has a good heart, and will treat you kindly. As Brandon will treat me.”

No words came to you. You just slumped further, picking at the grass, half broken-hearted, half embarrassed. A silence stretched between you. It felt like a chasm. Quietness had never felt like that with her before; but now she felt as far as she would once she left for Winterfell.  

“I am afraid,” Cat then said, so softly that you almost didn’t catch her words, “most of all... that... you will forget me.”

You didn’t believe that you heard it at first. Sure that they had come, unrealised, from your mouth. But Catelyn was now looking at you from the corner of her eye, face so vulnerable that those words could have only been hers.  

Your breath caught in your throat. When you didn’t speak, she continued, words now tumbling from her mouth—

“You have already begun. I have tried in vain to find you, every day. Every day you are gone. You vanish, as if without a trace. You no longer look at me, no longer speak with me. You don’t even smile at me anymore. You are already beginning to forget me. And I am not yet married. I have not yet left. Did you know before tonight that my father had found you a match? Do you love me so little that you forget our friendship so easily?”

Silence. The shock was so great that you couldn’t find the words to answer her. Cat took this as aloofness. She rose, walked towards the stream, but returned again, gliding down to sit facing you. Her hands grabbed yours, holding them tight.  

“[Y/N/N], have you ever loved me at all?”

The question felt like a stab. She might as well have truly pierced your heart. Because you did love her. You did, oh so much. And not in the way that she asked.  

“You don’t love me.” It came in a whisper, a dawning realisation, and her own gaping wound bled, but gushed out in tears. Cat did not often weep. But when she did, it hurt more than anything to watch. You found yourself leaning towards her, didn’t even realise that you had ripped your hands from her grasp to now cup her cheeks.  

And when your voice returned, the words came out without much thought, too real, too raw to come from your mind. They were your heart’s.  

“I do. I love you. I love you more than anything, Cat. The gods know how much I do. I, I, that’s why, that’s— I could not face you because I love you. What you have said is all that I have feared since Brandon Stark came. Since you became betrothed. I have lived in constant grief that you will forget me, that your love for your Stark will overwhelm, will erase all your affection for me. Time and distance will make our memories fade. You are good, you are kind, but not even you could keep my memory alive forever when you will be so caught in the love of Lord Brandon and in the running of his household. Whilst I will live through my marriage thinking only of you.”

Because I love you. You almost spoke aloud your deepest secret, though it had never been kept so well. Spoke it in that tone which would confess with entire clarity all those emotions you harboured for her. That love, that devotion, all the passion that burned when you so much as thought of her name. Then your friendship would truly be doomed...

But Cat did something that surprised you.  

She kissed you.  

It was so quick, so chaste however, that you thought, no, this is how a sister kisses her sibling; this is how she’s kissed Lysa, how she kisses Edmure.  

Her words barely register. “I love you. I could never forget you. I could never forget you even if I tried.”

Then, adding more to your surprise, she kissed you again. This time, the touch lingered. Not at all how a chaste kiss between siblings goes. Cat kissed you so sweetly, her breath shuddering every now and again, as if she were nervous — just as much as you were — that you realised, that it truly sunk in... This was a kiss of love. Of true, passionate, romantic love.

Catelyn Tully loved you, like you loved her. It had been true all along... Not just a fantasy.  

When she drew back, looking at you with a certain vulnerability, the warmth in your heart existed alongside the aching realisation that this would be your first, and last kiss together.  

You and she would separate, living far from each other in marriages that were not to each other. And though neither of you would forget the other... perhaps that might hurt you both more.  

So, for now, you would delay that last kiss, with a few more. Just until the hour grew late. Just until your Cat was no longer a Tully, and was gone.