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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier.
Word Count: Almost 5k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.
If only that were the case.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.
“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.
You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?
Right.
You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.
Just the two of you.
“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”
“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”
“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.
He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.
Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?
Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.
“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.
“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”
You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?
“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.
He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”
You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”
With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”
“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.
“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”
“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.
Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”
“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.
The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.
Not that you had to do any acting on your part.
You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.
“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.
The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.
Again, he had to play the part right.
You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.
Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.
And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.
Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.
Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”
You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.
“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”
You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”
“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”
“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.
“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.
He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”
“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.
“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.
In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.
Just an agent being kind to another agent.
Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”
“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”
Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.
Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.
Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?
“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”
“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.
Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.
He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”
“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”
He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.
His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.
“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.
The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”
It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.
“I’m curious,” he shrugged.
“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”
“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”
You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”
“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.
You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”
Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”
Oh, fuck.
The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”
“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”
“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”
Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.
He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.
You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.
You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.
Now wasn’t the time to think about that.
“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.
Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.
“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.
Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-
The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.
And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.
“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”
He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”
“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”
“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”
“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”
You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.
He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”
“Why not?”
“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”
“Of course,” he whispered.
You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”
A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”
You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”
Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.
“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”
“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”
He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.
You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.
You never stood a chance.
“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”
Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”
A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.
He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.
Like he wanted to own you.
His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”
Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.
Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.
You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.
“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”
You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.
And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.
“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”
The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.
“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?
He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”
Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.
His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”
“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.
“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”
It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”
He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.
You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.
“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.
Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.
Crave him.
“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”
Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.
You’d take whatever he gave you.
The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.
“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”
“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.
“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.
One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.
“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”
“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”
He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.
You didn't want him to let you go.
“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”
He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”
“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.
The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.
You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.
“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.
“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.
Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.
“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.
“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”
“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.
“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”
“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”
“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.
Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”
I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A.N: My loves, you're absolutely amazing, thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: It's wise to pay attention to the signs.
Word Count: 7,6k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, animal death, blood, MDNI. By clicking 'keep reading', or asking to be tagged, you confirm you're 18 +.
One of the scenes was inspired by Hotd! 🩷
Series Masterlist
Anger didn’t let you sleep that night.
Even after Robb had the audacity to come to your door and try to talk to you.
It was almost funny how you had pictured things to go when you were in the Reach and how different they had turned out to be here in Winterfell. Back in the Reach, you thought Margaery would never betray you and that she loved you for being you, and she had waited until you were in Winterfell to show you the exact opposite. Back in the Reach, you thought you could mesmerize Robb and make him love you, and just like Margaery, Robb had no issue with proving to you that you could not.
No matter how much you tried.
And you had tried everything.
It wasn’t even about the appearances anymore, but the blatant disrespect. Your feelings aside, your efforts aside, your planning aside, Robb had shown you multiple times that he was more than capable of sneaking out of Winterfell, so he could’ve snuck out of the hall unnoticed last night, but instead he had left you there in the hall and followed Jorelle outside in front of everyone else.
He hadn’t even bothered to be secretive in his actions.
And you knew exactly what it would mean to a hall full of people; unlike what you had assumed, such things weren’t exactly kept hidden in the North if he could be that reckless. Not to mention he hadn’t come back until after you retired to your chambers, so you had a pretty good idea what he and Jorelle had been busy with for a full hour.
Now to think of it, who was to say that he hadn’t in fact snuck out to meet Jorelle for some secret tryst the last time she was here, with neither of them caring about how such actions would’ve reflected on you? You would’ve been none the wiser.
Margaery was right as always. Nothing grew in this part of the realm, including love.
And at this point, you were so very tired. You knew you were supposed to pull yourself together but all you wanted was to be back in the Reach, walk through the garden of your father’s castle with Margaery, enjoy the sunlight and chirping of the birds, with the idea of North and its people a distant, irrelevant knowledge.
You were pulled back into reality when a servant girl came to fill your cup with hot tea, and you forced yourself to smile at her.
“Thank you,” you said and she smiled back, then went over to fill Elinor’s cup as well while the rest of the table chattered. The twins had told you they had been up late drinking with Robb and Jon, so that explained the absence of both brothers at breakfast. Silas sat on your left, watching the twins bicker with Arys until he caught the look on your face.
“Hey.” He touched your hand. “Is everything alright?”
You nodded your head before taking a sip of your tea. “Sure.”
“Are you still angry at me?”
You scoffed a laugh. “I wasn’t angry at you.”
“Weren’t you though?” he mused and you shot him a lighthearted glare.
“Not at—” you started, but your attention turned to the entrance for a split second when Jon and Robb walked into the hall. Your jaw clenched and you blinked a couple of times, then forced yourself to turn to Silas while Robb made his way to the table.
“Not at all,” you managed to say. “I was just sharing my feelings about the possibilities.”
“Yeah well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t believe it’s a possibility,” Silas muttered as Robb took the seat to your right, and had the audacity to give you a fond smile.
“My lady,” he said. “My apologies for being late.”
You didn’t even dignify that with an answer, yet you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Cerwyns sitting with Cassels, all having a great time. Even the mere sight of Jorelle was enough to make you clench your jaw, then you shrugged slightly, keeping yourself busy with your food.
“Told you you two wouldn’t be able to wake up early,” Perceon who sat across from you pointed out with a grin and Robb let out a chuckle.
“I’m fine,” he defended himself. “Jon feels worse than me.”
“Well, both of you need to pull yourselves together, because apparently we’re going hunting.”
You would’ve found the sight of Robb scrunching up his nose with his brows furrowed adorable if it were any other time, but now all it did was make the fire in your chest worse.
“Today?” Robb asked and Braxton wiggled his brows.
“Mm hm.”
“Gods…” Robb muttered and downed his water as Perceon asked Arys if he would join, and Robb turned his gaze to you.
“I came to see you last night,” he said softly. “To your bedchambers, but you were asleep.”
You only nodded, taking a sip of your tea.
“I was going to come back to the hall sooner, but—”
“I don’t require any explanations,” you told him without so much as a glance in his direction, your voice completely flat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him frown slightly as if he was taken aback, but you managed to keep your focus on the fluffy scrambled eggs on your plate.
“I—uh, I talked to our carpenter by the way,” he added. “The changes you wanted to make for the bed will be finished by the wedding, he thinks.”
And then he could have Lady Jorelle in the said bed.
You gritted your teeth, and shrugged your shoulders again.
“It’s your bedchambers,” you deadpanned. “You should decorate them as you wish, as I shall mine.”
His frown deepened.
“Our bedchambers,” he corrected you and a sardonic smile curled your lips while you turned the rose bracelet around your waist with a hum. Robb fell silent for a moment, then leaned in so that you could hear his voice despite the low tone.
“Are you cross with me?”
By the Gods, the nerve of him was indeed something.
You took another sip of your tea, making sure to school your expression into complete nonchalance. “No.”
“Are you certain? Because—”
“No no, she can come,” Perceon’s voice cut through your conversation. “Sister, are you joining the hunt?”
Your eyes snapped up to his and you shook your head while Silas heaved a sigh.
“Father doesn’t let her.”
“What?” Braxton asked. “That’s nonsense!”
“You can stay with me,” Arys said with an assuring smile. “I’ll be in the library while they hunt.”
Perceon scoffed.
“No but do you want to stay?” he insisted and raised his hand just a little to get your father’s attention. “Father, surely my sister can hunt with us?”
Your father leaned forward to see him better from the other end of the table.
“Hunting can be too dangerous, Perceon.”
“She’d be riding with me, Lord Greensted,” Robb told him. “She wouldn’t be in any danger.”
You put your cup back on the table and massaged your temples, ignoring the way your eye twitched.
Keep calm.
You were in public, which meant that the mask had to stay on. You had to appear calm and unbothered and happy, no matter how much anger boiled at the pit of your stomach, no matter how much you wanted to scream at Robb and your father and anyone and everyone who kept treating you like a fool.
But for the first time in your entire life, you felt the control slipping through your fingers despite what your years long stern southern court training hammered into your head.
“Oh but I’m sure she doesn’t want to come,” Alton voice cut through the buzzing in your ears and you opened your eyes to see his condescending grin. “My sister may have her strengths, but she cannot shoot an arrow.”
“Neither can you,” you muttered as you lowered your hands from your temples and Alton’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m sorry?” he asked as if he dared you to say it again, the rest of the table and the nearby tables falling quiet. Robb opened his mouth to no doubt jump to your defense, but you had already beaten him to it.
“Neither can you,” you repeated louder this time so that everyone around the table could hear you. Silas sat up straighter, his eyes darting between you and Alton while you two glared daggers at each other. “Doesn’t seem to be a requirement.”
Robb ran a hand over his beard as if he was trying to hide a proud smile, and Silas pushed his chair back to stand up.
“If you’ll excuse me and my sister for a moment,” he said, touching your arm gently and your jaw tightened before you got up as well, then followed him out of the hall. Silas looked around when you two stepped into the hallway, then pulled you into a corner out of the servants’ hearing distance.
“What is going on with you today?” he asked while you scoffed a laugh, crossing your arms. “Both our family and the Tyrells polished you way too much to get into an argument in front of people.”
“He started it.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Silas insisted. “You know how it works, you can say whatever you want to Alton when it’s just family, but when we’re outside, you let me handle him—”
“Yes well, maybe I’ve had it up here with people thinking they can disrespect me,” you cut him off with a bitter laugh, making him frown. “But it’s a foreign idea to you, I get it.”
He pointed back at the hall. “Alton disrespects me every day—”
“No, Silas!” you snapped. “He doesn’t disrespect you like he disrespects me. Alton is terrified of you, because he knows very well that you are the one who deserves to be the heir.”
He shook his head fervently. “No.”
“We all know it,” you told him, a tired smile twitching your lips. “The whole family. It wouldn’t surprise me if father knew it as well. If you wanted—”
“I don’t want it,” he cut you off. “I never wanted it. Our responsibilities are very clear, alright? Alton will take over, and I will make sure you’re all fine and happy. That’s how it works, that’s what I want to do. That’s my priority, I don’t want the title or the position.”
You swallowed thickly.
“And what’s mine?” you asked. “What’s my responsibility?”
The look in his eyes softened.
“To be happy,” he muttered, reaching out to squeeze your arm as if he was trying to assure you, but you shook your head.
“No,” you said. “No because that’s not true, and you know it. You’re an accomplished knight, and the whole Reach admires you. Cliff is a famous merchant, he gained so much wealth that he doesn’t even know what to do with it. Arys will run the Conclave one day, he’s so smart. The twins are adored by mother’s family and by the whole Dorne; all of you are perfect, and I—” Your voice cracked and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, then licked your lips.
“Everyone kept telling me I had to be mesmerizing and smart,” you said. “All my life. That I had to appear perfect. That I should capture the hearts of my allies and strike fear in my enemies’, but I…”
“Blossom.”
“No one here admires me or is intimidated by me,” you managed to rasp out, blinking back the tears. “What am I doing here then? Other than failing.”
“Don’t say—”
“You know,” you trailed off, dragging the tip of your tongue over your teeth. “I always thought I took after you, that was the biggest point of pride for me while growing up, but now that I think about it, perhaps I took after Alton.”
“That’s not true—”
“Neither of us are meeting the expectations,” you insisted. “And everyone can see it. We’re not even given the grace to fail in private.”
“Listen to me,” he told you, clasping his hands over your upper arms and looking you in the eye. “You couldn’t be more different than Alton, and I’m sorry to tell you, but you didn’t take after me either. Do you know who you took after?”
You sniffled. “Who?”
“Mother,” he said with a small smile, making you frown.
“But mother was perfect.”
“She wasn’t perfect, and neither is any of us,” he told you. “Unlike what father keeps telling you, not everyone loved mother. You know how quickly people in the Reach judge others, especially if they’re from anywhere but the Reach. She was beautiful and she loved all of us fiercely, but she wasn’t made for the Reach because she barely cared about what anyone else thought of her. Which came with some issues, as you can imagine. But she never cracked under pressure, and neither will you. No matter what anyone else thinks of you, because what people think of you holds no importance. They hold no importance, you do. If you decide you don’t like the North, I’ll take you from the North, easy as that.”
“Even after I’m wed?”
“Funny how you seem so convinced some words exchanged in front of a tree will hold power over your happiness,” he told you, making you breathe out a laugh. “Nobody will keep you in anywhere you don’t wish to be, Blossom. The question here isn’t whether they will like you, it’s whether you will like them. That is all.”
You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.
“And as for us being perfect?” he said with a sigh. “I’m afraid you haven’t been paying attention. Cliff is such a good merchant because he’s terrified of staying still, and he’s been trying to escape from himself. He thought he could leave who he is back in the Reach and would get away from it if he sailed to the furthest corners of the realm, but who he is keeps catching up. Arys is so smart and so good at what he does, but he doesn’t know who he is unless he’s succeeding at something. He is terrified of failure, and the reason why he’ll rule the Conclave one day isn’t because the gods willed it, it’s because he himself will make sure of it no matter what, because he pushes himself to his limits, and he doesn’t even see the toll it takes on him. And the twins?” He shook his head. “The whole reason why father sent them to Dorne is because of how impulsive they were, they never thought about the consequences of their actions, you’ve seen how many fights they got into. And Dorne made them even worse because now, not only are they spoiled, but they also keep thinking they have to prove themselves, because they no longer belong in the Reach, but deep down they fear they don’t belong in Dorne either.”
A silence fell upon you as you tried to wrap your head around the idea.
“And I—” He huffed out a laugh. “Come on. You of all people should know how imperfect I am. This castle now crawls with people whom I had relations with, and yet none of them know me, not really. No matter how much they begged me. I keep thinking if they see me for who I am, I…” He trailed off and licked his lips, gesturing in the direction of the hall.
“Loras is there,” he reminded you. “And I broke his heart so badly that I haven’t been able to look him in the eye ever since he arrived.”
You let out a breath. “Silas.”
“Have I ever told you—” He paused for a moment. “Have I ever told you the last words mother told me?”
You shook your head.
“She uh, it didn’t happen right away,” he rasped out. “But we knew. Father was a mess, he kept pleading her not to go, but I think she knew as well. She wanted to see Alton and me, but Alton couldn’t—” He shook his head. “He just couldn’t. He ran away crying, and I think he regrets that to this day. Blames himself I suppose, though he was a mere child.”
“So were you,” you whispered and he shrugged his shoulders.
“I went in though,” he said, his gaze distant as if he was lost in the memory. “And she was still so beautiful, you know? Tired but…completely calm, as if she wasn’t bleeding out. Not a trace of fear in her eyes.” He swallowed thickly. “She told me she loved me, that she’d keep an eye on us all, but that I had to protect all of you until we all met again. And then she reached out, placed her palm right here.” He put his hand on his chest, over his heart. “And she said I should never let anything harden my heart because it held so much love, that both she and father made it so.”
Your eyes started burning with tears again.
“But I couldn’t,” he muttered with a bitter smile and dropped his hands. “I cannot, I tried. So I suppose my heart has hardened somewhere along the way.”
“That’s not true, Silas.”
“Oh it is,” he said with a sad smile. “You think everyone can see Alton is failing? Mother can see that I am failing even though I promised her otherwise, it’s worse.”
You shook your head.
“You’re not failing,” you told him and reached out to press your palm on his heart. “She was right, you know? Your heart holds so much love, you just guard it way too well. It doesn’t mean that it’s hardened, it just means it’s well protected because it’s a treasure. Loras may not have been the one to hold the key, but someone does.”
He tried to smile, then tilted his head.
“Gods,” he muttered. “When did you grow up so much?”
“It’s been a while,” you told him, making him let out a teary chuckle. “You all just refuse to acknowledge it.”
“Anyway, my point is,” he insisted. “Just because we all convince people we’re perfect doesn’t mean we are. You of all people should know that. Perfection doesn’t bind us, our love for each other does.”
“And if I fail?”
“We’ll still love you,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Easy as that.”
You sniffled, then wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him. He held you tight and pressed a kiss on top of your head, then pinched your cheek when you pulled back the same way he would back when you were still a child.
“Don’t worry,” he told you. “But also don’t snap at Alton in public, please?”
“I’ll try.”
“Do you really want to come to the hunt?” he asked you. “I can talk to father if you do.”
You made a face, then shook your head.
“No,” you said. “No, I’ll spend time with Arys. And until then I think I’ll just be in my bedchambers, I’m not in the mood to have breakfast. You?”
“I’ll go back,” he muttered. “I’ll try to talk to Loras, let’s see if he punches me in front of all these southerners.”
You raised your brows. “Oh?”
“He didn’t deserve what I put him through,” he said. “He’s a good person so I—” He puffed up his cheeks and exhaled. “I’ll apologize.”
“You?”
“I’m as surprised as you are, trust me,” he said. “But hey, we’re trying new things I suppose.”
“Best of luck to you, my dearest brother.”
“Why thank you, my dearest sister,” he teased you back and ruffled your hair, ignoring your dramatic gasp before he walked away from you. You hurried to a window to check your reflection, then fixed your hair with nimble fingers before you cleared your throat, and started walking down the hallway.
Both Cliff and Arys had left home when you were little, and you barely saw either of them while you were growing up. Though Arys sometimes sent you letters and Cliff always sent you gifts on your every name day, you couldn’t help but feel they were too busy with their own lives. Silas was always the brother you were closest to, followed by the twins, but sometimes you felt like Cliff and Arys were you distant relatives rather than your brothers.
But apparently it was not the case.
Catching up with Arys was so much fun. He knew everything about everything, so he could sate your curiosity about the rest of the realm, and he didn’t look annoyed by your one thousand questions. Instead, he answered each with great patience and never made you feel like a fool, so apparently that hadn’t changed.
He was the same back when he still lived in your father’s castle.
“You and Robb can come visit me in Citadel, you know?” he told you while you two made your way out of the Inner Keep to step into the yard where the stable boys readied their lords’ horses for the hunt. “You’d love it there.”
“I’d love to see there,” you said. “People say Oldtown is even prettier than the Reach, but I don’t think anywhere can be prettier than the Reach.”
“Not even the North?” he asked you while Frost ran to you through the yard with a loud bleat. You picked her up into your arms like a small babe where she comfortably settled, pressing her little head to the crook of your neck. “Because I don’t know if you genuinely like it here or if you’re acting such.”
You scrunched up your nose.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” you muttered. “But thank you again, by the way. For all the herbs you brought me.”
“No reason to thank me.” He waved a hand in the air. “You’re about to become a wife, you’ll need them at one point or the other. Figuring out whether you like it here or not will be easier if no babe is pulling at your skirts. Or the opposite, if you do end up liking here.”
You repressed a smile. “So I have herbs for both to enhance and decrease fertility?”
“And put an end to it if you change your mind,” he said with a shrug. “Just keep all those in different drawers and in their own pouches, please.”
“Not to worry,” you said. “They’re all labeled, I’ll make sure to keep those labels.”
“Don’t drink the stomachache ones more than once a day,” he told you. “It’ll give you nausea.”
You nodded. “Alright.”
“Your betrothed is making his way here.” He nodded at someone over your shoulder. “I’ll be in the library if you wish to find me later on.”
With that, he walked away from you. Grey Wind reached you before Robb did, and you put Frost, who had been wiggling in your arms, down to give Grey Wind head scratches. He let out a low, happy rumble, then started playfully chasing Frost around the yard as Robb bowed at you, his hand clasped behind him.
“My lady,” he said, “I’m glad to have caught you before we left. You didn’t return to the hall.”
As much as you wanted to comment how you both seemed to have that in common, you managed to control yourself and kept your gaze on him, giving him a curt nod as an acknowledgement.
“I could barely see you last night,” he said, his voice lowering to a soft murmur as you arched a brow. “I—I came to your door when I was done, but you were already asleep.”
…When he was done.
Seven Hells, were all men in the North so brazen, or was it just because of his upbringing as the heir to the North?
Your hands balled up into fists and you dug your fingernails into your palms, commanding yourself to stay calm.
“We should be back fast though,” he added. “Unless of course, if you wanted me to stay—”
“No,” you cut him off. “No need. I’m sure I’ll be busy.”
He blinked a couple of times.
“Oh,” he said after a beat. “With what?”
“Catching up with people,” you said. “I’ve been neglecting our guests from the south, so…”
“Like who?”
“Many people.”
He licked his lips. “But who?”
“You don’t know them, I’m sure.” You shrugged your shoulders, averting your eyes from him to soothe the fire in your chest before you caught the sight of Jorelle talking with her parents in the yard. Your throat tightened, twisting your expression into a grimace before you crossed your arms and leaned back to the column, forcing yourself to drag your gaze from them to your brothers joking around by their horses.
“Are you sure you’re not cross with me?” Robb asked. “You’ve been rather strange since breakfast, with Alton—”
“I don’t take disrespect kindly,” you deadpanned and he nodded.
“What he said was out of line,” he said as if Alton was the only person to have disrespected you lately. “And you had a point, he’s a terrible hunter. I mean you can shoot arrows better than him, I’ve seen it.”
You raised your brows when you saw Jorelle’s father Lord Cerwyn approaching his horse which stood close to Lord Stark’s horse, even if Lord Stark and your father were nowhere to be seen.
“If you want to hunt with us, I can tell your—”
“Lord Cerwyn is going to be riding with your father?” you asked and he looked over his shoulder, then nodded.
“Aye. He’s an adequate hunter, he always rides with him when they come to visit.”
Your glare sharpened as you turned to him.
“And who’s my father riding with?”
“Robb!” Silas called out. “Come on, Perce wants to go ahead of the others!”
“A moment!” Robb called back without sparing them a glance. “What was that?”
“Who’s my father riding with?” you repeated and he frowned.
“With my father?”
“Beside him or behind him?”
“Beside him,” he answered, his frown deepening. “I meant that they’re going to be one group, me and the guys will be another. Obviously your father will be riding beside him, as he has been since you got here.”
You pursed your lips, then nodded your head.
“Good.”
His eyes darted over your face and he took a deep breath.
“Can we…” he trailed off. “Can we talk when I come back?”
You huffed a bitter laugh and pushed yourself off the column.
“I don’t know for how long I’ll be busy with my friends from the Reach,” you said and shot him a forced smile. “But I shall find you when I’m done. I wish you good luck on your hunt, my lord.”
With that, you swept a well-trained curtsy and walked away from him, leaving him there dumbfounded.
You had retired into the library with Arys but a couple of hours later, he had to talk to Maester Luwin so you decided you would go to the Great Hall to talk to some of the southern guests like you had told Robb despite not being in the mood to socialize. To be completely honest, you weren’t in the mood to do anything other than lock yourself in your bedchambers and cry, but that was going to have to wait until after dinner.
You had to keep up the appearances, especially after your outburst at the breakfast table—
By the gods, this family was everywhere.
Jorelle had the audacity to give you a hesitant smile while Lady Cerwyn talked with Lady Stark on the other side of the hall, surrounded by some other northern ladies. Though you had the idea to pretend not to have seen them and look for your friends instead, the moment Lady Stark raised her hand to motion for you to go over to them, that plan fell through.
…Wonderful.
You took a deep breath, then plastered a smile on your face and made your way to them.
“Lady Stark,” you greeted her. “Ladies.”
“Hello my dear,” she said, “we were just talking about you.”
“Good things, I’d hope,” you jested, not sparing Jorelle or her mother a glance. Lady Manderly laughed.
“Very good things,” she said. “I only wish my mother-in-law would’ve spoken so highly of me in my presence, but she was a terrible woman, gods rest her soul.”
You repressed a grin. “Oh?”
“But we were talking about your wedding!” Lady Karstark said. “Everyone says it’s to be the biggest celebration the North has ever seen!”
“I hope so,” you said. “We love our celebrations in the Reach.”
“All my friends are so excited,” Sansa said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “My gown is almost ready, I can’t wait to show you once it’s finished.”
“What a beautiful gown, by the way,” Jorelle said softly and you stole a look at her, then forced yourself to smile.
“Thank you.”
The gown you were wearing today was pale green, stitched with beads of small yellow flowers on the neckline and the wide sleeves, and to match the gown, you had tiny ambers shaped like flower blooms in your hair, carefully clipped into place by your maid.
“Did you stitch it yourself?”
“Some parts of it,” you said. “The beads.”
“You must show me how,” Sansa insisted and turned to Jorelle. “You can join us too Lady Jorelle, since you’ll also be staying here as a lady-in-waiting!”
....Oh.
Oh no.
Oh no, Sansa did not just say that in front of everyone, including Jorelle and her mother.
There was a reason why you kept telling everyone you’d announce the names after the wedding, you were trying to earn some time to mesmerize Robb away from Jorelle—as big of a failure as that had been. You had told Lady Stark you would wait a little to make sure you wouldn’t change your mind, because once any lady was informed that they were accepted as a lady-in-waiting, there was no taking it back.
And Sansa had just announced the first name in front of all these people.
And Jorelle. And her mother.
No matter how much you tried, starting this moment, there was nothing you or Robb could do to send her away. From anyone else’s view, it would look like House Stark was breaking a promise, which was out of the question, not to mention House Cerwyn would definitely take that as an insult this time.
It would also put you in a position you wouldn’t want to be in front of the whole North. Since Sansa was the one to proclaim it in front of this crowd, if you said no, it would seem that you had a personal grudge against House Cerwyn, which would give people even more reason to rally behind her even more than they did now. The chatter wouldn’t stop regardless of how much knowledge you had in court games and politics, or how many resources you and your family were bringing into the North with this marriage.
“Sansa!” Lady Stark whispered as if warning her, but Sansa only looked genuinely confused.
“But the wedding is days away, I thought she could know.”
You could feel the frustration tightening your jaw but you willed yourself to think straight. Sansa was still a young girl, and she wasn’t brought up in the southern court, she wasn’t familiar with these types of rules. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t be anything like Elinor, so you couldn’t blame Sansa for thinking the best in people and not being able to catch up with the games of the court, she was still way too naïve for such things.
Even if she had just ruined the future of your marriage.
“You honor me,” Jorelle said after a beat and you tried your hardest to keep your expression flat despite the pounding in your temples. Lady Cerwyn smiled in a proud manner, the mere implication of smugness enough to churn your stomach.
“I’m sure my daughter will serve you and House Stark well,” she said. “You’ve just made us very happy, my lady.”
You had to get out.
There wasn’t enough air in this damn place, you had to get out.
“I’m glad,” you managed to say. “If you’ll excuse me ladies, I’m afraid I must go and find my brother.”
You walked away from them, your posture straight and your steps graceful even though your whole body was shaking in anger. Making your way downstairs and away from the curious eyes of the people filling the hallways made the burning in your throat worse, and you could swear the whole yard was spinning around you as you stepped into the stables and leaned back to the door, desperate to keep your breathing under control.
This was too much.
Ever since you’d stepped a foot here, it had been one thing after the other. The North didn’t like you or approve you, they were all more than ready to replace you, Robb had a mistress, Margaery was being Margaery, and Sansa had just made sure that Jorelle would stay in Winterfell so that she could lure Robb away from you.
Judging by Robb’s actions last night, he had no issues with a lack of subtlety, so you could already tell sooner rather than later, the whole North would see that he preferred Jorelle to you, taking away any sliver of power you could get in here. All your power as the future lady of the North was directly tied to how much Robb liked you, and as he had shown you last night, nothing you did was enough to take his attention away from his mistress. So for the rest of your life, you were going to have to fight not only with Jorelle but with the rest of the North, you were going to be obviously disrespected, your position was going to be threatened, and your family—
And your family was going to be miles and miles away.
Leaving you alone here in this den of wolves.
You could feel the air getting stuck in your throat and you pressed a hand on your chest, holding onto the railing of the stables with your other hand while you forced yourself to exhale, but you immediately had to pull yourself together when a stable boy entered the stables. He was from Winterfell, you had seen him around Robb and Jon’s horses a couple of times, and he looked rather surprised to see you before he bowed his head.
“My lady,” he said and you tried to smile.
“Hello.”
“Were you—were you looking to horse ride, my lady?” he asked you. “I can ready one for you.”
You opened your mouth to say no, but the thought flashed through your mind so fast that it stopped the word at the tip of your tongue. You looked over your shoulder at the horses, then let out a breath and straightened your back.
“Yes,” you managed to say. “I’d appreciate it, thank you.”
This was going to become a habit, you could already tell. However, at least you had mostly followed the path Robb had shown you when he first took you to the Wolfswood, except that one turn that led you to the blue flowers scattered around but you knew how to get back to the path, so you weren’t going to get lost, hopefully.
Besides, flowers always made you feel better back in the Reach, and you were going to put these in your bedchambers.
You were more than aware that you were going to get an earful from your father, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care. Robb’s mistress was going to be in your sight every single day, your best friend wasn’t even attending your wedding, the whole North hated you, and you couldn’t even mesmerize Robb, so a reprimand was the least of your worries.
Being away from the castle helped just a little, at least now you could breathe.
Even the thought was absurd, but you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you didn’t go back. If you could ride deeper into the Wolfswood, as vast as it was, it had to end somewhere.
Maybe you’d ride straight to White Harbor, take a ship there and—
And do what?
You could go to Dorne, to your mother’s family. Twins would love it, so would Silas, so you could just leave Winterfell and the North and Robb behind, and live out your days in the North, enjoying the sunlight instead of the unforgiving cold seeping into your bones.
Perhaps you could even change your name. Pose as someone else for the rest of your life, away from everyone else, turning a clean page.
Lady of nowhere.
You scoffed a laugh at yourself, then adjusted the flowers in your arms and walked deeper into the woods to get closer to the field of flowers not far away from you, but as soon as you took a step, a deep growl came from somewhere in the thick bushes, making your stomach drop.
Oh no.
Oh no, what was it that Robb had told you?
There were wild animals in the woods.
You took a step back as the bushes shook, and with another growl, a young mountain lion stepped out from among them, snarling in his prowl. Panic shot through you so fast that for a second, you felt your whole body freeze, your feet stuck to the ground even though you knew you were supposed to…
Supposed to do what?
Run away?
You hadn’t even brought a bow and arrow, your horse that was now neighing in fear was tied to a tree far away, and there was nothing around you that you could use as a weapon against the lion, but all that left your mind the moment the beast opened his mouth to let out a sharp, bloodcurdling scream. That was enough to snap you out of the haze of fear, and you dropped the flowers in your arms to get away from the lion as fast as your legs could move, but fear had made you way too clumsy to even survive, the overgrown root of the nearest tree escaping your notice. Your feet hit it and you fell headfirst to the ground, quickly turning around to see the lion leaping at you, your whole brain shutting down. Your arms shot up to cover your face but another very deep and familiar growl reached you, wind moving your hair with the blurry figure of—
A direwolf.
Grey Wind.
It happened both too fast and too slow, as if the gods had slowed down the time for you. Before the lion could reach you, Grey Wind had already jumped and clamped his teeth right in his throat and tore it with a clean shake of his head, blood splattering over you. They both fell to the ground in front of you and even you could tell through the fear that he was no match for Grey Wind, he was losing so much blood way too fast. He tried to bite Grey Wind with a last attempt, but Grey Wind got on top of him and sunk his teeth deeper into his throat, and with a wheeze, the lion stopped moving.
“…Grey Wind?” you whispered, forcing yourself to get on your feet to take a step to him, but your legs gave out as soon as you did, your hands and forearms sliding in the blood stained soil. Grey Wind looked at you, then bolted towards you to nudge at you with his snout, as if trying to make sure you were okay. A sob left you and you wrapped your arms around his thick neck while he licked your face, getting blood all over you in the process.
“Thank you!” you whispered, wiping at your eyes before you gave him a head kiss, then ran your fingers through his coarse fur. “Thank you, you saved me my sweet!”
He let out a rumble and you kissed his head again, then grabbed at the tree trunk to pull yourself up. Your legs were still trembling, your heart pounding in your ears as you let out an exhale, then sniffled and wiped your face with a shaky hand. Grey Wind moved over to the dead lion before pushing at him with his snout, then looked up at you and sat down.
“We have to go back, Grey Wind,” you managed to rasp out and Grey Wind pushed at the lion again with a whine before turning his expectant gaze to you. You blinked a couple of times in confusion, then looked over your shoulder to your horse, and the thick rope the stable boy had placed under the saddle catching your attention. You had seen it so many times when your father came back home from a successful hunt, the animal that was hunted was tied and dragged back to the castle either for meat or trophy. Granted he and his men always place it on some sort of a sled for convenience, but in this particular case, a rope was going to have to work.
“Alright,” you heard yourself say through frozen lips. “Alright then, let’s take that home.”
It seemed that the most of the hunting party had returned to the castle right before you did. There was no sight of Robb or your brothers, or Jon and Theon, so you figured they were still in the woods while Lord Stark and most of the lords and their sons were in the yard, having conversations. Your father’s horse was in there as well, but he had probably excused himself to go wash up right after the hunt as he always liked to do back in the Reach. It was rather crowded; most of the families had gone down to no doubt greet the hunting party, laughter and merry chatter echoing in the yard as your horse trotted through the gates, Grey Wind walking next to it.
And slowly but surely, the chatter quieted down.
You were more than aware of just how feral you looked as you slid from your horse; there were blood stains on your face and hands and your pretty silk gown. You hadn’t noticed it before but the hem of the skirt was ripped a little in your haste to get away from the lion which now was tied tightly and dragged behind your horse. Your hair was loose from the braids your maid had put so much effort in before you had left your bedchambers, the amber flowers now lost somewhere in the woods.
And yet, for the very first time, you couldn’t worry about looking less than perfect in front of these Northerners, not when the excitement was still running through your veins, setting your blood ablaze.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sansa covering her mouth in shock and Lady Stark took a step towards you, no doubt to rush to you but Lord Stark was quick to stop her, muttering something in her ear before nodding at the crowd that had gone completely silent around you. Arya’s eyes widened as she glanced at the lion then back at you, and you took a deep breath, shaking your head a little to fix your hair.
You had seen the way Robb moved through the crowd multiple times, it was the complete opposite of how you were taught to move. Back in the South, you were taught to look as if you glided as you walked; everything had to look graceful almost like a dance, with your hands clasped in front of you with your nose in the air and a small, polite smile on your face. Robb’s gait was heavy, his shoulders squared, and his back straight with his hands clasped behind him. He didn’t really smile in public, instead his chin slightly lowered, his gaze not soft and taunting like yours, but commanding and intense.
Almost like a wolf ready to pounce at any time.
So that was exactly what you did. You clasped your hands behind you and straightened your back, lowering your chin a little as you started walking with heavy, long steps instead of your usual short and quick ones that would make the hem of your gowns look like they were floating above the ground. You crossed the yard, keeping your gaze straight with Grey Wind proudly padding along beside you, keeping his eyes on the crowd. Alton was standing by the entrance to the Inner Keep, completely frozen at the sight of you, and you jerked your head to the side to command him to step aside without so much as slowing down your steps. He didn’t even hesitate as he jumped to the side in a haste, letting you walk past him.
It was only when you entered the Inner Keep that you let a smug smile curl your lips, your strong steps echoing on the stone floor.
Very well then.
If the North didn’t want to admire you, they were going to be intimidated by you instead.
I LOVE this Blossom fucking done with pretending to be this perfect little smiling lady and of course Grey Wind by her side💘💘💘💘💘 were Robb and her brothers looking for her? OMG I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER YOU’RE KILLING MEE
I need to know WHEN is this GIGANTIC misunderstanding’s going to clear, it has to be before the wedding right? She cant get married with the idea that Robb is a cheating bastard😭😭😭😭😭 Right?! RIGHT😭😭😭😭😭
A.N: My loves, you're absolutely amazing, thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: What is said and what is meant can be two very different things.
Word Count: 5,2k
Warnings: Explicit language, MDNI. By clicking 'keep reading', you confirm you're 18+.
Series Masterlist
She was sent to him by the old gods.
He was sure of it now. Both torment and a gift, consuming his thoughts while he was awake and dreams while he was asleep.
And he was not only expected but also honor bound to keep his distance and follow the strict norms of courting leading up to their wedding, as if he didn’t hear her quiet yet excited gasp whenever he held her hand, or notice how she stepped closer to him whenever they walked side by side, or—
Or how intoxicating it felt to have her in his arms.
Like last night, under the moonlight, away from the prying eyes of the court.
“Especially with the harvest feast—Robb, are you listening?”
Robb frowned at the sight of Theon speaking to his lady in the courtyard outside but at least it looked like he was apologizing, judging by how his shoulders were dropped and he was dragging the tip of his boot on the ground where his eyes stayed fixed.
Well, it had taken him more than a day, but knowing Theon, he had to go get drunk and make a scene at the tavern first before coming back to the court and gathering up the courage to apologize.
“I am, father,” he replied, then turned his back to the window to look at his parents and Lord Greensted. “The harvest feast?”
“We could combine it with the wedding,” Lord Greensted said, “although I must admit, I do not know much about the harvest feasts in the North. We do it every year back in the Reach, and though it is the oldest one, it is only another feast among many.”
“We do it once the maesters declare the arrival of autumn, not every year,” Robb’s mother said, “every great house begins storing a portion of their grain, then we gather to celebrate.”
“Ah, that’s why ours is different,” Lord Greensted said. “We’ve never had to store anything because of the seasons. I’m guessing the feast happens during the day?”
“Yes,” his father said. “No tourneys, but still a little similar to the feasts of the South.”
Lord Greensted hummed. “And the wedding will happen in the evening.”
Robb’s heart skipped a happy beat but he tried to keep his expression straight.
“A wedding before the old gods is much shorter than the Faith of the Seven,” his mother said. “How about this? Since all the guests will already be here, we can hold the wedding in the evening, and the next day will be the harvest feast?”
The next day of his wedding?
The harvest feast began in the morning, he had very specific plans to—
“The next day?” he asked and cleared his throat. “Mother, would it not be better to uh…make it the same day as the wedding?”
So that they could get it over with, and no one would bother him and his lady wife in the next morning.
Judging by the glint in his father’s eyes, he could tell exactly what Robb was thinking.
“There are many houses who would oppose it, especially the traditional ones,” he said. “But don’t worry, no one will say anything if you and your future lady wife join the celebrations later on in case you…drink too much the night before.”
By the Gods, he did not want to have this conversation with his parents or her father.
“Right,” he said after a beat, his ears burning. “Of course. I just assumed it’d be more convenient, that’s all.”
Lord Greensted raised his brows and repressed a smile.
“Of course,” he said. “Well, I know for a fact that my daughter will be very happy. She was whining to Silas about not being able to choose between two gowns, two feasts back to back is in fact the solution.”
Robb could feel a warmth in his chest upon the mention of her, and he looked over his shoulder out the window to see Jon walking back to the courtyard, a grin twitching his lips.
Finally.
“If that’s all, may I be excused?” he asked his parents. “I just remembered Jon and I had to go to Wintertown for um…something—that he needs.”
His father frowned. “What?”
“Something of crucial importance,” he said, already walking to the door. “I’ll see you all at dinner.”
He walked out of the door, made his way through the hallway then down the stairs, and stepped out to the courtyard where Jon was waiting while Grey Wind and Ghost playfully bit at each other, trying to tackle each other to the ground.
“Hey,” Robb said. “Did you get it done?”
“Yeah, no one will disturb you but I still think it’s a terrible idea,” Jon said. “Just so you know.”
“I told my parents and her father that you and I would be in Wintertown, and they already think she’ll be at the library until at least afternoon. All you need to do is not be around until we’re back.”
“And go where?” Jon whispered, making him shrug.
“Go to Wintertown, I don’t know!” Robb whispered back. “Just be out of sight—”
“Hey,” Theon’s voice reached them, making both of them turn to him. Theon shifted his weight and cleared his throat, no doubt attempting to appear nonchalant. “I apologized to your lady wife just now before she left for the library.”
“Good,” Robb said coolly after a beat while Jon looked from Theon to him. “You’re back then?”
“Yeah.”
“Where have you been anyway?”
“At the tavern.”
“Makes sense, you smell like the tavern,” Jon pointed out and Theon scoffed.
“You try going on a two-day bender and then we’ll talk.”
“See, I won’t do that because I have actual self-respect—”
“That’s a strange way to say you can’t hold your liquor, Snow—”
“Not two seconds after you’ve returned,” Robb said, exasperated. “Anyway Jon, make sure to stay out of sight.”
“Why?” Theon asked and Jon threw his head back.
“Robb told everyone we’d go to Wintertown.”
“And we’re not going to Wintertown?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you before you take a bath,” Jon pointed out, “and no. He’ll spend time with his lady wife.”
Theon grinned. “Ah?”
“Stop giving me that look, I’m just going to show her around Godswood.”
Theon didn’t have to open his mouth for Robb to know the vulgar joke he wanted to make, but it appeared that he had learned his lesson the other night, because he didn’t voice it.
“Well, alright then,” Theon said, causing Jon to raise his brows as if he was as surprised as Robb was.
“Really?” he asked. “The joke was right there. What, you woke up a new man?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Theon asked back, then turned to Robb. “If Jon’s out of sight, anything you want me to do?”
“Make sure people stay out of the library until we’re back,” Robb told him and he nodded.
“Consider it done.”
“Great,” Robb said, “I’ll see you two later then.”
With that, he walked to the tower with Grey Wind following him, and jumped over three steps at once until he got to the top floor, his eyes finding her lone figure in the library, engrossed in her book, bathed in sunlight spilling through the windows. For a moment, he couldn’t help but just stand there, enjoying the sight of her illuminated by the golden rays, his heartbeat getting faster.
She couldn’t have been more different than the shrill, spoiled Southern girl he had conjured up in his mind prior to meeting her. The Old Gods had made her for him, keeping them on opposite sides of the realm until they deemed the time right, and now that he had her, now that she was to be his lady wife—
Grey Wind darted past him to all but catapult himself at her side, making her gasp before she let out a giggle, the sound sweeter than any ballad to Robb’s ears.
“Oh hello my sweet!” she chirped, scratching Grey Wind’s head as he let out a rumble before she turned her head to beam at him.
“My lord.”
Gods, he wondered if it would be too early in Southerner standards to ask her to call him by his name.
“My lady,” he greeted her back, his stomach fluttering at her bright smile. “Am I interrupting yet another important study time?”
She stuck her nose up in the air in an exaggerated air of arrogance.
“You are,” she said. “But you have my permission to do so.”
“Do I?”
“I have been wondering your whereabouts.”
“All you had to do was send for me, my lady,” he told her, and her smile widened before she shrugged.
“It was to my understanding that you were busy.”
Robb had to hold back his scoff of laugh; she thought he could ever be too busy to see her?
He could’ve been in battlefield and still rush to her side if she wished to see him.
“Never too busy for you, my lady,” he said, “and if you’re not too busy yourself, I’d like to ask you to come with me.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Where?”
“To Godswood,” he said. “So that you won’t get lost when you try to run away, of course. Nothing more.”
She repressed a laugh. “Oh my, I appreciate that,” she said. “And here I was, trying to memorize the map itself. Who will join us?”
“No one.”
She tilted her head. “Am I right to assume our families do not know?”
“No,” he admitted. “No but…we’ll just stroll, that’s all. That’s nothing to frown upon.”
Especially after last night, after holding her that close, he just needed to be alone with her, even if it was just to walk with her.
She took a deep breath as if she was deep in thought, then arched a brow at him.
“Well then,” she said. “I suppose you know how we can sneak in there?”
Growing up in Winterfell, he was so used to spending time in Godswood that he tended to forget how it appeared to an outsider.
It was three acres of old forest, untouched for ten thousand years, filled with sentinels, oak, ironwoods along with ash, chestnut and many other types of trees. The ancient weirwood tree standing over the dark, cold pond had witnessed all the generations of Starks making oaths in front of it, as he was going to as well, in a moon. The three pools fed by hot springs scattered along the different parts of the forest had hot steam that looked like a permanent fog above them, warm even in winter.
His lady mother always told him that even after years in Winterfell, as a Southerner, she still couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, but he hoped his lady wasn’t disturbed by such thoughts.
Though, even if she did, she looked way too interested in the scenery to dwell on it. Her eyes darted over the trees as if she was trying to take in as much as she could of the scenery while they strolled, and Robb couldn’t find it in himself to disturb her thoughts, not when she looked that curious.
“I feel as if I’m in the times before the conquest,” she said after minutes of comfortable silence, making him turn his head. “Way before. Is it always like this here?”
“Like what, my lady?”
“So peaceful.” She paused for a moment. “Perhaps peaceful is not the right word. Um…it feels rather secluded, but I feel as though the old gods are hearing my every thought and watching my every move.”
“You don’t worship them,” Robb said with a grin. “Besides, they only judge great offenses, not thoughts. Those are your gods, over there.” He pointed at the roof of the small sept his father had built for his mother, and his lady bit back a smile.
“Well,” she said airily. “Either way. Um—are you sure we’ll be back before anyone else notices us missing?”
“Of course,” he assured her, then shrugged his shoulders. “I mean even if they do notice us missing…”
“That’d be a disaster.”
“Not really,” he mused. “We’re close to the weirwood tree, we can just get the wedding over with—”
“Not yet!” she said with a laugh. “We cannot, the guests aren’t here yet!”
“That’s fine, we’ll wed twice—”
“Twice?!”
Robb couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly at the sight of utter shock on her beautiful face.
“Could work,” he said and she pushed at his shoulder with hers as if warning him.
“Where is the weirwood tree anyway?”
“You wish to see it?”
She nodded. “I’ll say something to the old gods, I’ve decided.”
“Say what to them?”
“Take me there first.”
Robb bowed his head slightly. “As my lady wishes,” he said and started walking in the direction the weirwood tree was in, her hand still tightly clasped in his. She looked around again, then turned her gaze to him.
“You said you were with my father and your parents before you came to the library,” she said. “What were they speaking of?”
“Oh, they were trying to decide when to hold the harvest feast,” he said, bitterness seeping into his tone. “We’ll hold it the next day of the wedding.”
She blinked a couple of times in silence, then cleared her throat. “The next day?”
As much as Robb wanted to know whether she had the same thought as him about the next day of their wedding, she’d been trained by the Southern court way too well to let anything slip.
“Yes.”
“…Interesting,” she commented after a beat. “Well, that makes things easier then. I haven’t been able to choose between two gowns, now I get to wear them both on two celebrations.”
Robb’s chest warmed up as a smile curled his lips. “Mm, that’s what this has been about all along.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Does my future lord husband judge me?”
“Not at all,” Robb said with an overly serious expression, commanding himself not to burst into laughter. “The wedding and the harvest feast, the perfect opportunity for two flimsy gowns.”
“I’ll have you know, my lovely seamstress has been working day and night for them—” she started, but the rest of her sentence was caught in a gasp as soon as her eyes fell on the pale weirwood tree. She slipped her hand out of his –much to his displeasure—, then made her way to the tree to stand in front of it, tilting her head back to look up at the blood red leaves, then her gaze slipped to the carved face of the tree.
Bran used to be terrified of its face when he was younger.
“So, I can just...I can just think it?” she asked and Robb shrugged his shoulders.
“We don’t really have many rules,” he stated. “However you usually do it in the sept is fine.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight like she was trying to focus, making his lips twitch in amusement. She tilted her head to one side and then the other as if she was having an actual one-sided conversation –or at least listing something very long—in her mind, her brows knitted together in deep thought, and she stayed like that for almost a full minute in complete silence before she opened her eyes again to beam at him.
“Alright!” she chirped. “I told them.”
A chuckle climbed Robb’s throat. “What did you tell them, exactly?”
“Oh, I just…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I just expressed my gratitude and thanked them.”
“For?”
“For you, of course.”
Robb’s head shot up. “Me?”
“Well I—I already thanked mine for our betrothal,” she said, gesturing at the sept. “But it occurred to me just now that since you worship the old gods, it only makes sense if I thanked yours for your presence.”
…She thanked his gods. For his presence, as if she wasn’t their very gift for him.
Robb could feel the sunlight dripping into his chest, filling it with warmth so fast that it made his breath hitch. For a couple of seconds, he could only stand there and gawk at her; his lady wife, having already claimed every corner of his mind whether he was awake or asleep, keeping his heart tightly in her grasp, and she—
She was thankful for this betrothal?
Even the air in his lungs was hers to take it away from him with a mere glance, and she was thankful?
Rules be damned, he needed to kiss her. They were by the weirwood tree, anything said there was binding as an oath, so he could just tell her that he would never let her slip from her fingers, then—
She tilted her head, bending sideways to smile at something behind him. “Oh hello there!”
That had better be some kind of animal.
Yet, the cackle coming from behind him was way too familiar, and he shut his eyes for a moment in exasperation before he opened them again, then looked over his shoulder.
“Rickon,” he said, turning around to glare at his youngest brother. “What are you doing here?”
Rickon pointed at the far back. “I was playing with Shaggydog,” he said with a wide, toothless grin and Robb pinched the bridge of his nose.
At the rate their siblings loved interrupting every moment between him and his lady, he was going to have to tie them all together after their wedding feast to make sure everyone would stay away from their bedchambers.
“Does mother know you’re here?” he asked despite knowing the answer and Rickon shifted his weight.
“…Yes.”
“Oh does she?”
“Are you scared of wolves?” Rickon asked his lady, making her smile widen. “Except Grey Wind? Mother says Southerners are scared of wolves—”
“Rickon,” Robb said warningly but his lady squeezed his arm.
“Don’t,” she told him before turning to Rickon. “Depends. Is your direwolf very terrifying?”
“Yes,” Rickon said, bouncing on his feet. “He eats people.”
“He doesn’t eat people,” Robb deadpanned, making Rickon frown.
“He could!”
“Go back to the castle.”
“No!” Rickon protested. “I’m playing with Shaggydog!”
His direwolf made his way to his side, then sat down.
“See?” Rickon pointed at him, looking at his lady. “He’s terrifying.”
“Very terrifying,” his lady said with a nod of her head. “I can see why you keep him outside. He looks like he eats people.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Robb told her but she shot him a grin.
“I’m not, I’m telling the truth.”
“Rickon, back to the castle,” Robb said sternly and Rickon turned around to no doubt run away from him, but Robb had had enough practice with his other younger siblings. He grabbed him by the back of his vest to lift him in the air like a troublesome cat before he could so much as take a step, making Rickon cackle in glee.
“Higher, higher!”
“That’s not the way to the castle,” he told him. “And you know it very well.”
He tossed him in the direction of the castle, making his lady gasp but Rickon laughed like he was having the time of his life before he ran back to him.
“Again!”
“Will he not get hurt?” His lady asked and Robb scoffed.
“Nah, he loves it,” he said and ruffled Rickon’s mop of curly auburn hair. “He’s more wolf than child.”
“Again!”
“Go back to the castle, I said.”
“But it’s fun! Please?”
“Maybe we should take him back to the castle,” his lady said. “He um…he’s very little, and it’s a big forest with ponds and such. It’s dangerous for him to be on his own here.”
That was out of the question.
To sacrifice the little alone time he had with her to take his little brother back to the castle, when he was more than capable of finding his way?
Absolutely not.
“He’ll be fine,” Robb assured her and gave him a little shove when Rickon bit at his hand, tugging at his sleeve. “He knows the way back.”
“He’s very young though.”
“He’s a Stark.”
She shot him a chiding look. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s very young.”
“He grew up around here,” he told her. “He has his wolf with him, he’ll be alright.”
“I’ll still feel more at ease if we take him back,” his lady insisted and Robb threw his head back, then let out an exhale.
“Fine,” he muttered and lifted Rickon again to toss him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, making him let out a cheerful laugh while his lady took a step towards him as if to make sure he wouldn’t drop him.
“Is that…um—” She paused for a moment. “Is that how you’re going to carry him?”
“Yeah, it’s his favorite way.”
“Onward! Onward!”
This was not the way he imagined this walk to go.
He shook his head, painfully aware of the annoyed look on his own face but his lady didn’t seem to share that statement; instead she seemed rather entertained. She entwined her fingers with his, the simple gesture melting the frustration away and started walking beside him back to the castle, biting back a smile.
After they returned to the castle, Robb went to hand Rickon over to his mother while his lady went back to the library. Though he was still rather irritated at the interruption of his little brother, he figured there was still some time until people required their presence so he went straight back to library as well so that he could be alone with her.
“I take it he was safely returned to your mother?” his lady asked when she saw him walk in with Grey Wind following him suit, and Robb heaved a sigh.
“I have half the mind to convince my mother to assign a nursemaid to him for every minute of the day.”
“Is that not the norm here?”
Robb frowned, then shook his head while she gave Grey Wind a head scratch.
“No?” he said like a question, then shrugged his shoulders. “I mean knowing Rickon, even if that were the norm, he’d bite the poor woman.”
“He’s very sweet.”
“He’s very feral, that’s what he is,” he grumbled and his lady let out a small laugh, then grabbed a parchment on the desk to hold it out for him.
“Here.”
He shot her a quizzical look. “What is it?”
“It’s a list,” she explained. “Sansa has hers, I have mine, and we’ll put them together and give it to your mother. But before that, I need your help.”
He tilted his head at the list of houses when he took it from her. “A list for…?”
“For my ladies-in-waiting.”
“Ah.” Robb made a face. “People have been asking me about that as well.”
“You?”
“Lady Umber talked to me, apparently Arrana really wants to be among them.”
She raised her brows. “I could tell.”
“Look at that, you’ve already made friends,” Robb pointed out. “Only took you one conversation.”
She scoffed a laugh.
“You’re sweet,” she said, “but wrong, I’m afraid. That has nothing to do with me.”
“The whole point of ladies-in-waiting is for them to be your friends.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love it if they wanted to be my friends, but that’s not what they want it for. Being a lady-in-waiting means having access to everything that the court, in this case Winterfell, can offer. Meeting the right people, being in the right rooms…That’ll serve them to secure better marriages and have better status, that’s all.”
“I doubt Northerners know such ploys, let alone use them,” he commented. “Sounds Southern court to me.”
A smirk curled her lips.
“Oh does it, the future Warden of the North?” she teased him. “You have much experience with ploys of Southern courts, then?”
“Uh…” Robb thought for a second. “No?”
“Exactly, so you’ll have to take my word for it.” She pointed at him, coaxing a chuckle out of him as he held up his hands to gesture surrender.
“Very well.”
She reached out to tap her finger on the list she gave him.
“Go over it please,” she said and pulled the nearest book to herself. “I wanted to add another house but I can’t seem to remember the name…”
She shifted through the pages while Robb’s gaze darted over the house names on the list, and he turned the list over before turning it back again.
“My lady, I think you forgot House Cerwyn.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her head snapping up from the book she had been shuffling through, her delicate earrings –pearls dangling from thin gold wires woven together in the shape of flower stems—swinging back and forth with the sudden movement.
“Sorry?”
“House Cerwyn,” Robb repeated. “They live half a day’s ride away; you’ll meet them soon. I’m certain you’ll like Lady Jorelle.”
Robb would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel slightly guilty. The whole North, at some point, seemed convinced that House Stark and House Cerwyn would unite through him and Lady Jorelle, and even his parents had told him it was very likely, to measure his reaction. Lady Jorelle was everything a Northern lady was supposed to be, she had been that way ever since they were little, and he had asked her for a dance—well, two dances, since they hadn’t finished their conversation and he wanted to know her better if they were to be betrothed— at the latest wedding feast they all attended, and accidentally started the rumor mill, as Sansa had informed him.
Back then, he was almost relieved at the possibility. Lady Jorelle was pleasant enough both in looks and conversation, he knew her, he had talked to her numerous times growing up, and their families already got along well, so he had been under the impression that it was a much better deal than marrying some girl he didn’t know or like.
And then, that raven from the Reach had arrived.
As far as duty demanded, both he and Lady Jorelle understood what was expected of them. In such unions, it was better to build a family and let the love between them bud with it as it had been the case with his own parents, than to expect or make a marriage based on anything else. Robb had responsibilities to House Stark and the North, and he had gathered it would have been an adequate companionship he could find happiness in.
But now?
Now that he had met his lady?
The idea of being anyone else’s husband and finding happiness was laughable at the very least, his lady had mesmerized him so much that everything back then felt like he was seeing them through a distant fog in his mind.
However, the rumors of their union aside, he was very much aware that House Cerwyn was a house they needed to reward for their loyalty and make sure there was no resentment between them, and having Jorelle as his lady wife’s lady-in-waiting where she could meet a good match was a good solution. Besides, all those talks before had been all about duty anyway, there were no affections between them except a possible friendship, so surely his lady would agree.
He paused for a moment and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.
“My lady, I don’t know if you’ve been told but Lady Jorelle and I—”
“I’ve been told,” she cut him off, her voice perfectly calm without any hint of resentment, which made him let out a breath.
So she did agree, then.
“Good,” he said, half relieved he didn’t have to explain the situation. “I think it’d be a good idea to have her among your ladies-in-waiting then. I’m sure you understand how such arrangements work.”
Robb couldn’t explain how or why, but something behind her eyes shifted.
“…Arrangements,” she repeated and he nodded, wondering why there was a slight chill that made the hair stood up on the back of his neck as if the warmth of the room was slowly escaping.
Someone had probably left a window open downstairs.
“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose that part is not very different than the Southern court?”
Grey Wind let out a small whine like a warning, causing him to turn his head to check if he was alright, but he seemed fine enough.
His lady’s fingers curled around the book as tight as they would around an enemy’s throat.
“I was not aware,” she ended up saying, “but yes, I suppose.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, my lady,” he assured her in a haste. “No one expects you to know everything about here, and it’ll be my privilege to help you navigate such.”
She was completely still for a moment like a statue of ice in the middle of winter before the corners of her mouth twitched and she let out a breath through her nose, lowering her head in the same way a goat would right before ramming its horns into someone.
“How kind of you,” she commented, her gaze fixed on the page, and before Robb could reply Jon walked into the room, but stopped dead in his tracks when she turned her head to look at him.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
His lady blinked a couple of times like she was trying to snap out of her thoughts, then managed to smile. “You’re not.”
“What is it?” Robb asked and Jon cleared his throat, stealing a look at her before turning to Robb.
“Theon and Silas had the bright idea to practice sparring,” he said. “In the dark. They’ll blindfold themselves to see if Ironborn or the knights of the Reach are better fighters. I was going to ask if you wanted to come and make sure no one dies.”
Robb frowned. “Have you told them that’s a terrible idea?”
“Multiple times.”
He turned to her. “My lady…”
“Go.” Her voice was almost dismissive for some reason as she grabbed the list off the desk along with a couple of books to herself before she stood up and hugged them to her chest. “I should find Sansa anyway. Good day, my lord. Jon.”
Jon bowed his head slightly as she walked past him without so much as a glance back, and Jon raised his brows at Robb.
“Is everything alright?”
“Sure.” Robb got up from his chair. “Why?”
“She looked rather…” Jon paused. “Angry, I’d say?”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“No, I’m sure not,” he said. “Why would she be angry? We weren’t arguing.”
“Are you sure?”
He scoffed. “That we weren’t arguing?”
“That she wasn’t angry.”
“I think I’d be able to tell if my lady wife were angry at me, Jon,” Robb said with a grin and slapped his shoulder. “Come on. We need to make sure no one is maimed, those two are too reckless for their own good.”
No but imagine they eloped in secret and Robb is fighting that duel not for his betrothed but for his wife, imagine his reaction when someone he's never met before challenging him for HIS ACTUAL WIFE (who no one knows is his wife but like what the fuck?)
Could we get a HC about that scenario, please please please?
Also, I've been thinking about how he'd be challenged and Gwayne (?) would have to actually plead his case to the Starks to be even able to fight it. The Starks are one of the oldest and most powerful families in the whole realm, to question their honor, lands, alliances, or heir publicly is branding yourself suicidal and oathbreaking (which a knight most certainly is not)
And he can't be like, "this match and the North suck," he's a highborn southerner who's likely courted Blossom before so that's what gives him the bravery to challenge everyone. He probably genuinely thinks he's doing right by her
(wait why am I growing fond of him??)
He'd say something like, “The lady deserves a sword sworn in truth, not convenience.”
So he'd have to be both charming to the southerners there but also do it in a way that Ned cannot refuse this direct insult to his decision to betroth his son. He'd have to kneel and ask Ned and Catelyn the right to challenge Robb. Something like:
“I honor House Stark. But I would prove myself worthy of the lady by trial of arms. My lord, grant me leave to seek the lady’s hand by contest. Let the gods judge the worthier man.”
Now Robb can accept without losing face, because what Stark would back down from that, and Gwayne can't get executed for treason.
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-
Darling you're a genius!? 😱🩷 Oooh this makes perfect sense, because like,
“The lady deserves a sword sworn in truth, not convenience.” AND
“I honor House Stark. But I would prove myself worthy of the lady by trial of arms. My lord, grant me leave to seek the lady’s hand by contest. Let the gods judge the worthier man.”
I am literally staring at the screen, like these lines made his whole character click in my mind, you're so talented?! 🩷
And you're so right!
Like, I was actually thinking about it, we're one hundred percent getting the duel and I was thinking how it was such an impulsive decision for him because like, Robb is the heir to House Stark AND THEY ARE IN THE NORTH?????
Because I feel like, honestly, how did he think it'd go because he's literally in their house and challenging their oldest son, and the next lord of the whole North to duel?
AND THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE?! 🩷
Of course he would open that challenge with something, and aaaaaaaa exactly with those lines!
And like, as furious as they will be, I can see Ned allowing him, and basically at that point Robb was buzzing in his seat to be allowed to duel him from the first second Gwayne looked at Blossom all lovey-dovey, so he immediately accepted it😂
Robb is fighting that duel not for his betrothed but for his wife, imagine his reaction when someone he's never met before challenging him for HIS ACTUAL WIFE (who no one knows is his wife but like what the fuck?)
ASDFGHJKL let's have a HC with that! 🥰
I think Jon would be the only person who knew they eloped, so Robb would be pacing in the tent, simmering in fury like,
"He dares challenge me for my wife?!"
"Alright, I get why you're angry but lower your voice—"
"We're wed!"
"Except that no one back there knows you're wed."
"We made an oath!"
"Eh, so that you wouldn't wait a moon to consummate."
"Jon."
"I'm saying that respectfully."
"I'll kill him."
"Maybe don't though."
"Oh, you think he should just walk away unharmed when he just challenged me for my wife?!"
"I think bloodshed at a wedding is usually frowned upon, and he thinks he's challenging you for your betrothed, who does not look very happy that you accepted that challenge, by the way. So mayhaps it's a good thing you consummated a moon ago, because I doubt you'll be sharing a bed tonight."
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You made a mental note; Jon had to mean a lot to him, enough to openly disagree with his mother on such matter.
“My family wouldn’t mind,” you told him softly. “If that is the only obstacle leading to such decision. The North seems to me stricter on such matters.”
“My mother is from the Riverlands,” he said with a small chuckle. “I don’t think it’s the North only.”
You shrugged your shoulders. “Hence my implication of it not being the only obstacle.”
“And you yourself wouldn’t mind it if he sat at the High Table for the days to come?”
That could’ve been a trap, and for all Robb’s claims of his words not having hidden intents, you still had to be careful.
“He seems like a pleasant man I’d most certainly like to be friends with, and as a person with many siblings I hold dear, I understand your love for him,” you stated. “And like I’ve said, we do not hold such strict perception in the Reach, mayhaps it’s yet another difference the Reach has from the rest of the world. But…” you trailed off. “As a woman who hopes to never go through such heartbreak—”
“You will not.” One simple listener would’ve thought he was talking of a law of nature or a certainty of such similarity with how decisive his voice was. “Ever.”
You could feel the warmth spreading in your chest. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me for me honoring our marital oaths, my lady.”
You couldn’t even attempt to stop your smile.
“But,” you continued. “As a woman, I understand your mother as well, at least up to a point. It’s not my place to judge your love for your brother, nor her hesitation to welcome such feeling.”
“That might be the most courtly answer I’ve ever heard to a direct question,” he commented, making you giggle.
“I’ve never promised brutal honesty,” you teased him while you both walked into the crowded dining room. “You have.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see multiple people turning to look at you before pretending to go back to their conversations, as well as your family and Robb’s family watching you, but you forced yourself to focus on Robb who looked genuinely amused by your reply.
“So I’m never to get a yes or no answer to a direct question from you?”
“Depends on the question,” you said with a dramatic sigh, taking a step to stand in front of him, your nose stuck in the air. “I’m quite direct on certain topics.”
“Such as?”
“Whether I like being adorned in jewelry or wearing flimsy silk gowns.”
He scrunched up his face like a guilty boy caught in an act of disobedience. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“No,” you said. “In fact, I shall remind you of it when I’m old and gray. And mayhaps call you Benjen from time to time.”
He bit back a grin. “As far as plans for future go, yours sound rather grudging.”
“Well, I’m to be a lady of the North, no?” You lowered your voice as if giving him a secret. “The North remembers.”
That coaxed a clear chuckle out of him, the pleasant sound making your cheeks burn as pride filled your heart.
“That being said,” you told him, painfully aware of the glances on you two, “I have a question for you.”
Attn: So here comes my Knight Syverson fic. This fic will contain a few things throughout such as mentions of familial death, kidnapping, murder in battle and for the sake of protection, age gap, and ultimately forbidden romance 👀 just wanted to forewarn in case that’s not your jam. Overall tho I hope everyone enjoys!
Word Count: 1,234
Pairing: Knight Syverson x OFC Princess Annalise
Summary: King Harold needs a proper protector for his daughter.
Warnings: 18+, kidnapping, mentions of familial death, murder during battle, blood
It was dark in the kingdom, a storm rolling overhead. Princess Annalise laid in bed, covers tucked to her chin as the sounds of thunder unsettled her. She’d never liked stormy weather. As a child she’d tuck herself right against her mother until it passed, but she was no longer a child… and no longer had a mother, enemies having taken her from Annalise and her father, King Harold. Now he kept his darling Annalise closer than ever, afraid she’d meet the same fate.
And yet, even with all the guards, even with the knight posted at her bedroom door, someone managed to sneak past them all and drag Annalise out into the storm. By the time King Harold got her back, Annalise had a dreadful chill, and was enraged. While she was being nursed back to health he had the two guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance to her wing of the castle and the knight at her door beheaded.
“It is a shame I cannot trust my own people with MY daughter. I will scour the lands for the most fearsome protectors. I will send my messengers and they will find someone truly worthy of protecting my Annalise. I came far too close to losing her and may still just yet with the state she is in. In the mean time if ANY of you let a single soul on these grounds that are not supposed to be on them, you will face a fate worse than these three. Do not test me,” he bellowed before leaving.
Within the next six months a formidable amount of men showed up from all over the land. King Harold met them all foremost, wanting to judge them for himself, immediately eliminating a few before putting the rest to the test. During these trials he brought forth Annalise to gauge their reactions. The ones whose eyes shone with lust were sent away. “You are not here to court my daughter, but to protect her. Be gone!,” he bellowed after protest.
With that only four men were left, but there was but one that caught Annalise’s eye. He was the largest man she’d ever seen. His hair cut short to his head, appendages the size of tree limbs, broad chest, coarse beard, and the most crystalline blue eyes she’d ever seen. “Have you a preference my darling?,” King Harold asked as they watched them prepare for their next task. “What is he called Father?,” she questioned. “Syverson,” he said with a hint of a smile.
King Harold had grown to prefer him as well. His size along with his skill would be a great advantage for protecting his daughter. “Now the four of you, fight to the death… fight as if the other is trying to harm my sweet Annalise,” he said as he stood. “Father,” Annalise gasped. “Tis the only way,” he quieted her. Ever the obedient daughter, she sat silently and watched. She watched as Syverson killed two out of the three men fighting him, and then as the other ran, Syverson chasing him down, also ending his life.
Annalise released a shaky breath as the blood covered man approached her seat and kneeled before her. “It will be my great honor to protect you, Princess Annalise,” he said with more tenderness than she imagined possible. “And it so it shall be,” King Harold replied with a smile and affectionate pat to Syverson’s shoulder.
After the fight and Syverson being able to clean up, King Harold declares there shall be a celebration. “For a true warrior, fit to protect my daughter!,” he said. Several hurrahs and whoops carried across the arena. Annalise kept her composure but she so hated loud noises. “M’lady,” Syverson says, holding out his hand. Annalise looked up at him, apprehensive of this brutal man. He’d killed the other men just off of the premise of them doing her harm. While she should be grateful, it makes her uneasy.
She takes his hand nonetheless, watching his large mitt swallow up the entirety of her hand. Once standing he motions her forward. She heads towards the castle, Syverson by her side. “I would have been alright from the arena to the castle had you wanted to stay,” she tells him softly. “I didn’t. I came here to protect you. So many unruly men ‘round…,” he trails off. “Not likely they’d test your prowess in hand to hand combat,” Annalise comments as he opens the door for her.
She catches a lopsided grin on his lips before entering. “Are you pleased, Princess?,” he asks. Annalise stops and turns to face him. Syverson watches as her amber eyes roam over him in contemplation. Surely she needed someone like him to protect her. Such slight thing. Her fists ball into the sides of her pale blue dress, brows furrowed, as she stands still scrutinizing him. He notices pieces of her dark brown hair sticking to her forehead as a storm swirls behind her eyes.
“You fear me?,” he asks. “I— don’t know how to absorb what you have done,” she admits before averting her gaze. “I’d never harm you, Princess,” he tells her. “In my heart know that to be true, but the way you killed those men,” she says, eyes wide. “I’ve got no pity for anyone trying to do others harm, especially those they can easily overpower. I’ve seen it first hand and don’t ever plan on seeing it again,” he says. Before Annalise can question any further the castle doors open and people begin to pile in. “Come, let’s head to… wherever we’re supposed to be goin’,” Syverson says.
Annalise leads him to the great hall where an assortment of foods and drinks are already on display. For the most of the night Annalise sits upon her throne, never much one for parties. She’d much rather be in her room, the conservatory, the library, or even out in the garden. She cherished quiet moments and her time alone. The entire night Syverson stood by her side, eyes scanning the room for any possible threat.
She wanted to encourage him to celebrate, but she is sure he will not leave her side. “Let us eat before I retire for the night,” she says as she stands. He simply nods before following her. They eat in silence, not that conversation would be likely with all the ruckus around them. They finish their food before heading toward the door. “My daughter!,” King Harold says jovially as he quickly approaches. “Yes Farther?,” she questions. “Gone so soon?,” he asks. “Yes. I tire of all of this,” she admits. “Very well. Good night my darling,” he says with a kiss to her temple.
And so Annalise begins the ascend to her room. Once she reaches her door she turns to face Syverson. “Will you be here?,” she asks. “Just outside your door, Princess. No one’s gonna touch a single hair on your head,” Syverson tells her. “Annalise… if you like when it is only the two of us. We shall be spending ample time together, so maybe we don’t always have to be so formal?,” she questions, still a bit wary, but curious of this giant man so determined to protect her. “Eric, but most just call me Sy,” he replies. “Goodnight Sy,” she says as she opens her door. “Night… Annalise,” he says softly.
feeling... chaotic >:) ets!Sy+pregnancy desire scare?! 😱 oh no it's too soon for babies! 😭 ......but 😏 i want your babies anyways.... wonder what it says! 🤩🤪
I wrote something similar to this before, but I can't find it because it's kind of far down the ETS tag. It had something to do with Y/N's stomach hurting and Sy insisting on her taking a test. So if I ever find that, this can pick off from that:
"Sy, I don't know what--" you begin to speak, pacing beside the bed, and that's all you say. That's all you say because it's all you have to say, and Sy's already stepping next to you and advising you to sit down.
You obey, and right away, your elbows go on your knees and your forehead goes onto your palms.
"Breathe."
"Right. Breathe. Don't panic."
"Let's talk through this," Sy says. "Now that test in there's either gonna say yes or no, Y/N. Those're the only two things that'll happen."
You nod, your heart beginning to pound. As Sy crouches in front of you and begins audibly breathing in and out, you follow his pattern. "Right." You nod again.
"And if it's no," Sy goes on, "then it's no. Nothin' changes. You prob'ly got some sorta flu and you need to get some rest. I'll getchu some soup for supper."
"Right," you say again, and you nod at his logic while maintaining your deep breaths.
"Now, if it's yes," Sy murmurs, "that's where we can take it from there."
Your heart starts going crazy again. What's "take it from there" mean? What's that mean? What's this mean for the both of you? What are you gonna do?
"It means we're gonna make it work," Sy calmly answers, and you realize you've been speaking all of your anxieties out loud. "Together."
"Okay," you whisper. You love watching Sy with his nephews, and he'd even been good with Justine’s kids. He'd be excellent with a baby. He would.
It's yourself you're worrying about here.
"Just try an' relax until that test is done cookin' in the bathroom, alright?"
Shakily, you let out a somewhat-hitched breath. "Okay."
"Hey," Sy says seriously, and he takes a seat next to you on his bed. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulls you in close to his body. "Just me here. Just me and you."
"Yeah," you murmur. "Sorry."
"Aht."
You continue to breathe with Sy's assistance--in and out, and in and out again.
"Shhh," he tells you with his hand on the side of your head. He plays with your hair before finally telling you it's about that time to get up.
Outside the bathroom, you stand there with the expectation of seeing two pink lines on the pregnancy test, a positive result. If you have that expectation, it'll be easier to accept it.
You can do this. You weren't expecting it, but you can do it. It's you and Sy here. You can do anything together.
Sy's still got your hand in his while he asks, "Want me to go in an' look first or you?"
You take a deep breath. "I'll go."
And so you step into the bathroom, look down onto the counter, and see one dark pink line. You pick up the stick and hold it into the light, but there is nothing else to see. There's no faint second pink line, no "maybe", none of it. It's a singular, sole, all-by-itself pink line.
Standing by the threshold of the door, Sy’s watching you. Silently, you turn, look at him, and walk directly into his arms.
"Shhh," he says while you hug him tightly. "It's alright."
"It's negative," you whisper.
"It's negative?" he repeats.
Nodding into his chest, you squeeze him once more. "I was convinced it'd be positive."
"Wouldn't be so bad havin' my baby, now, would it?” he plays, and you chuckle.
"It ain't that," you say, picking up on Sy's accent more and more as the months go by. "I just don't know if I'm ready."
"Well, you know what I always say," he reminds you, and you look up.
"What?"
"I ain't goin' nowhere," he vows. "So if you ever think you're ready, we'll talk about it then."
Smiling, you lean up on your tip-toes to kiss him but end up stopping yourself at the last minute. Your stomach still hurts. You probably do have the flu.
"Sy, I--"
Rapidly turning around, you rush to the toilet, fall on your knees, and begin vomiting as your stomach twists and lurches.
Sy stays next to you while you get sick over and over again, pulling your hair from your face and rubbing your back. When you lift your head, he wordlessly wipes the saliva on your chin off with a piece of toilet tissue, and by that point you're all but begging him to leave.
Sand Castle gave us a last name, a patent and no background so we could read something like this and be like "This is SO Sy 😭🥹😍" cause he was actually raised by fanfic writers
would yall believe I have the next part of ETS ready to post already? Maybe tomorrow. And then the part after that is almost ready, too! (Last of the VA Trip.)
After that, though, it's gonna be slow. But if you're enjoying it, thanks for reading and commenting. 🤗
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Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!
Word count : 3k
Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!
The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.
One: He was grumpy.
Two: He was a private person.
Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.
That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.
That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.
What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.
With the florist.
With you.
“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside.
They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.
“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.
Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.
Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”
Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”
They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.
That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”
As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”
Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”
“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”
Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“She was literally wearing it—”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.
Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.
Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.
What was the world coming to?
—
Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ.
Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib.
She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”
Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.
“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase
Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”
From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”
Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.
Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”
Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”
“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”
Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.
Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”
John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”
“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”
John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”
“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”
Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”
Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”
“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”
His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.
“You’re lying,” she snapped.
He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”
Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”
He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.
And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.
—
Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.
And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.
It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets.
Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.
“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”
“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.
Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”
John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”
Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”
Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”
Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”
Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.
John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.
“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.
“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway.
It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.
But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.
They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.
To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.
“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”
Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”
Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”
John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”
Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.
And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.
The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.
“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”
Yelena and John froze in their tracks.
James?
James?
No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.
Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”
Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.
Honey?
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”
Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.
You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”
Oh.
Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated
John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”
Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.
John let out a wheeze.
Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”
Bucky nodded. “Yup.”
“Like—actually married?”
“Mhm.”
Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”
Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”
“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.
Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”
“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”
“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”
“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”
Bucky could only nod again.
Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”
You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”
Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.
John looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”
John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.
“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”
Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”
Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.
John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.
But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”
You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.
You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.
Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.
You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.
“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”
John scoffed, “A while?”
You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped.
“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”
John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”
Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."
Bucky only shrugged, unbothered.
You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”
John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.
Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.
“How did you meet?”
“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”
“Does he ever actually smile?”
At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”
John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”
You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”
And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.
You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges.
Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.
“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.
Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”
John choked.
Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”
Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut.
For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.
And then, without thinking, you leaned in.
It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.
Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you.
John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.
You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him.
“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.
Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.
“Off,” you said simply.
Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.
Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say.
John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.
You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.
“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.
Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”
And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.
The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.
A ring.
A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.
She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.
That’s why he always played with it.
Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.
-end.
Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.
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