Head In The Clouds

It was Robb, but propped up against something, the black outfit was the very one you recalled your living self, lovingly dressing him in. And the shine in his bright blue eyes as they looked over you with as much love as you had in your heart. But it was soaked in blood as you lay, and not the face of your husband. 

Instead, the sight of The Young Wolf was that as you were The Silent Stag. His head bloodied, but like it had formed into that of a giant direwolf, like he turned into his very companion in Grey Wind as it looked propped on his body. The gods, forcing him to live what he was called and you as your own as you lay in a choking cry unable to find the strength to speak or cry to him through the blood in your mouth. 

His sight was mocked by the demonic creatures you could barley see around him, before the water in your eyes blurred him, before the fading came once more. You accepted the horror that he did not deserve. This was for your sins. 

Let the gods do this, and once more you would wake. In the realms beyond the living, Robb at your side with an arm around you, as you held your son, little Ned. You promised to always be together. 

The gods would punish you, and allow you to be together once more. You and Robb just had to endure this horror, and you would finally be together again. 

That was all you had to do to get back to him. 

Skies were dim as you ventured further into the lands, leaving a drab feeling blanketing over the land that fit the state of mind you lived in. According to the rumblings in the men, you had been in and out of conciseness for almost a fortnight, leaving you to assume that the last of the summer sun had died out and only the dim of autumn remained. Not that you missed the sun, the last time it shined in any way that you could appreciate was so far off you bared not thinking about it. 

Watching the men around you act like normal had made you angry in those first few days you woke up, but now it was all meaningless to try and keep that energy up, you had none left in you really. The small cage off in the distance was your home for a bit, mostly a place you were tossed to wait and see if you would ever wake up, but then once you had? They kept you shoved in there just to keep you from lashing out. 

The first day one of the men had approached you to give you water, only to slide his hand into the bars as your hands were tightly bound. He still wore an ugly dressing over the mark where you bit him, your mouth still stained somewhat with blood from how hard you dug your teeth in. After that, multiple men had to drag you out and hold you down so they could gag you which had stayed on you for the most part, including now. 

But you were too exhausted to fight, your face and skin were constantly flush and hot with sweat as your head grew more fuzzy and dizzy each day. Once it was determined you were indeed alive and not going to bleed out, apparently some kind of infection set in just to make you more pathetic. Currently as camp was made for the night you were granted some freedom. 

The men assigned to watch you noting that you were mostly docile, leaning your head against the iron bars with a distant and dispondant look, to weak to even roll your eyes at their comments. You had been allowed to be let out, and brought to a tree where you now sat tied up against. What a sight you must have been, flush and sweaty, covered in grime to the point it matted in your hair, and still wearing the very dress you had been that night, still soaked in dried blood. 

It was a living nightmare, your dreams flashing in a repeating horror with the strings of music that would forever haunt you, only to awake to the men all finding it in their cold hearts, to sing it outloud. You wondered if they even knew other songs, or if it was just all a sick game to torment you as they dragged you with them. If one more of them sung that Lannister song, you were going to find a way to free your hands just to cut off your own ears. 

Perhaps it was the fever in your head, but you had no sense of what to feel anymore. It was so twisted all wrong, and you had not the heart to find it’s truth in front of all these people. Not them, not after what they’ve done. 

Your eyes flickered up in a painful glare as footsteps approached, and the figure kneeling in front of you raised an eyebrow at your state. “Now, my lady, if I take this off are you going to behave, or will you need a refresher?” His hand pointing to your eye. Right, that must be just adding to your state, likely bruised by this point when he had hit you hard across the face after you kicked away the food he brought you. 

You wanted nothing from Roose Bolton, but he insisted on finding ways to keep you alive. A true mockery that felt now. Your stomach burned where the slices refused to heal or fade. You looked off to the side dejectedly, and he took that was an answer. 

Pulling the fabric down from between your teeth you bit your tongue and continued to not look in his direction. “It’s been almost a fortnight since you’ve eaten, and days since you’ve had any water. If I’m going to keep you alive, we’re going to have to fix that problem.” 

“Then don’t keep me alive. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You barley recognized your voice, it was hoarse and so rough that your throat screamed at you to douse it in water and smooth it down with honey to ease the pain. Tearing your eyes back up to him as your head lulled to rest back against the bark you raised your eyebrows at him in challenge. 

His ability to keep calm in any situation no longer was a point of impressive resolve, but an angering fester in your stomach at his lack of humanity. “It was not a matter of personal affairs, just politics, my lady.” 

Your breath cracked out a single laugh that almost made you cough. “Where is the utility in keeping me alive, when you sure tried your best to do the opposite?” You couldn’t ignore the burning inside of you, it was as if you’d pull your dress up and see a blackness toxifying around what was left. 

“This is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. Not in your fragile state.” Huffing another cracked laughter you asked him what he even wanted. “Right now I want to ensure I can get myself, my men, and even you into the Dreadfort in one piece. When we arrive I will have our maester treat you, then we can speak more.” 

You felt dizzy even just sitting up against a tree like this, the air was obviously getting colder judging by the state of dress going around but you neither were covered in anyway to help, nor did you really feel it. It was as if you were in the dark swampiness of the Crannogmen lands but instead of a misty air it was humid and sweltering like a Dornish sun. All you could muster was a huff. 

Leaning forward with a skin of something, he opened the cap and took a sip before holding it up with an expectant look. “It will be far easier to get us past the Ironborn if I have you on a horse instead of dragging you around in a cage. But I need to know you will cooperate if I do. I’ll even keep let you stay ungagged.”  

Leaning forward with the skin once more before he was uncomfortably close to your face, “I wouldn’t test me further, my lady. The only thing keeping these men from raping you every night is my order, and I’m quite sure in this state you wouldn’t survive as many as have talked about it. So either it’s me, or I leave you now to the mercy of my men.”

There was no place in arguing, you had nothing to fight back with. Jaw clenched as you fought back the angry pounding in your heart, you nodded. Roose seemingly satisfied enough that he gently placed the skin to your mouth. The water down your throat felt so soothing that it made your insides wish to cry, but you had no energy for it. So you let him give you the water, and come morning maybe you would feel less like a floating bundle of delusions. 

He left you alone after that, but just as he said none came over to you. You think there were groups that had their eyes on you, but it was difficult to see. In the dark, the blurriness of your vision only let you see what was in front of your face and everything else was blurs of shapes and fire. 

Late into the night, you fell asleep once more. The only thing which came to you, was the sight of Roose plunging the knife he struck you with into the chest of Robb and the strings of music that had played only seconds before it all. That’s all you saw anymore, and you couldn’t remember if you ever dreamed in any way before that night, all you saw and heard was those two things again and again. 

One man, dark eyes with a creeping look that would once have made you on edge was the one who fetched you come morning. He spoke some, expected nothing in return. Pointing a knife at your unresponsive face as he threw out, “You run or hit me, and I’ll knock that pretty face around enough to leave a mark that’ll stay ugly. Got it?” Merely untying you did nothing, since your hands were still bound tight enough to keep you from struggling them from behind. 

Yanking you up to your feet he walked you though the camp to where the horses were stood ready to go. Another man next to what seemed to be his, smirked as he nodded to you like a silent object. “Know it’s been a rough few years when even this one looks good ‘nuff to make a man jealous.” 

Knocking him in the arm, he moved with him to hoist you up onto the horse, your vision spinning drastically at the movement with no way to steady yourself. The first dark eyed man, Locke, climbed up behind you, taking your bound hands into his grip and yanking you back to hiss in your ear. “Be smart now, lass. There’s nothing round us but Ironborn and best bet no one’s gonna protect your honour once you’re alone with them. You gonna be a smart girl?” Nodding with a clenched jaw, he hummed satisfied. 

Shoving you off of him before the rest of the men all begun to take off. They’d have to take the day to sneak past the bordered scouts and by then, if they pushed hard they could make it to the Dreadfort by next daybreak. You couldn’t possibly wonder what awaited you there, but at the minimum, threat of death was far from any worry in your mind. 

Waking up for good had felt like a new kind of death, a confusion that tore you up and threatened to swallow you whole. Making no sense at first, you had died you knew it. Or, you thought you did. Not a thing had felt like the way you were fading and yet you were here now. You dared not think of the memory of fire and chanting you were so sure as a deathly torment of the gods. If you thought of that, you might bringing up the only thing in your stomach, of water and bile and you refused to look at yourself in anyway. The red staining your dress was there until the mercy of new clothes might be granted if ever. 

You had no right to be here, you had promised him. You and Robb promised the other that it would be until your last day, together. Not one without the other, you found your fate dying beside him but yet you were alive and the memories of him would paint before your mind like cries in the night. 

Something was quite wrong inside you, but you felt like there wasn’t enough awareness in you to see what it was or what was missing. All you knew is that you were trapped in this memory of that night, and you couldn’t see a single thing in the world around you except that and here. 

If there was a world and people that existed besides this nightmare, you could not find them. 

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?” 

Standing in the main hall before three men, having found nothing right when Jon awoke. Lord Commander Mormont as Sam said, dead. Murdered in a mutiny, and leaving him to hope that he learned enough from the Old Bear to get through to the rest. 

Jon saw nothing but conflict in his actions, and as he stood there now it was clear that it didn’t matter what they thought of him, it mattered that he make them understand what no one else seemed to truly get. Neither side got it, it seemed. “I didn’t murder him.” 

Ser Alliser Thorne looked him down with the same contempt he always had, and if he had his way without question he would’ve ended Jon then and there the second he rode through the gates. “No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night’s Watch. What do you call that?” 

“He wanted me to kill him.” 

Lord Janos Slynt sat to the left, leaning partially across the table with the same puffy and slime filled smugness he always held. Full of respect for none but his own reputation, and yet he was here down in the icy ends of the world like the rest of them. “The bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?” 

The man was lucky Jon wasn’t as young and brash as he was in his first months here. He tried putting a knife through Ser Alliser in a rage for a similar comment once upon a time. Instead, he kept his composure and attention on the later man and Maester Aemon listening intently to his right. “The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army.” 

Ser Alliser interrupting with a gritted roughness that Jon could sympathize with. “Don’t talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother.”

They were all brothers now, even you, Jon thought. Ser Alliser certainly wasn’t a fan of Jon, nor he in return but he knew losing a brother wasn’t easy and it certainly didn’t make Jon feel like he was doing the right thing when he killed him. He agreed with the man himself to do it, and he agreed with why, but he still put his sword through the Halfhand. His first true kill and that would forever be a bloodstain on his hands. “Then you’d know he’d do anything to defend the Wall. The free folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-”

Slynt had the gall to laugh, like there was anything in Jon’s entire existence anymore that even could give the slightest bit of amusement. “The free folk? Listen to him, he even talks like a wildling now.” 

The rage for a minute spilled out of his mouth as Jon raised his voice to him, “Aye, I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings, I climbed the wall with the wildlings, I-” There was that wave again. One that made him feel uncomfortable and bordering on a guilty kind of dirty that he couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard. It was there and they would all only see one thing, but it didn’t feel anything the way they were going to. 

Then Jon thought of you, and it just made it all the worse. But he had to be honest in some regards, he wasn’t going to get through to these men by lying. He had to just say it the only way any would care or believe him with. “I laid with a wildling girl.” 

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?” 

If that’s what they were going to focus on, what would it even take to convince them to take him seriously on anything else. He did break his vows, but not willingly, and not with the only person who deserved to have them broken for. 

Janos Slynt continued his petty tirade that Jon was growing increasingly annoyed with. “The law is law, the boy must die.” And what law did you break to get here, my lord? What had you done to find yourself from City Watch Commander to the Night’s Watch, what mercy were you shown to not die for your crimes, Jon thought. 

Maester Aemon however, seemed to care not for where they saw fit to debate Jon on. “If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men.” 

Ser Alliser trying to argue, “There’s a difference between sneaking off to the Mole’s Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy.” Somehow Jon knew that telling him the only alternative was death, wouldn’t exactly give him any more leniency, but he like Aemon, had no time for this. 

“Aye, there is a difference. Sneaking out to a brothel doesn’t give you detailed information about their enemy plans and numbers. And while we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the wall with an army of a hundred thousand.” 

They tried to protest that was impossible, but he’d seen it. He had walked through that camp and felt nothing but a building dread for what was to come of any of this. “He’s united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Ice-River Clans. He has giants fighting for him.” 

The degree to which Jon was getting fed up with Janos Slynt was immeasurable. The man laughed while looking at the other two who didn’t find anything funny about it. “Giants?” 

Jaw tight, he looked to the waste of air with a barley held back lack of respect on his face. “Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?” 

There was that huff of pride in his face once more. “I commanded the City Watch of King’s Landing, boy.” 

“And now you’re here. You must not have been very good at your job.” Jon would have no way of knowing it, but another voice with serious eyes and a dismissive snark echoed in Janos Slynt’s ears. 

The voice of a woman who he had no reasonable way of knowing meant a single thing to dark curly haired man in front of them. The girl had spent many of her days on the council questioning his capabilities, and insulting him all the same as this one. But Jon ignored his outrage as she always would.

“There’s a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane. I killed their warg and three others, they shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the south while Mance hits it from the north. Their signal for the attack will be a bonfire, Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That’s the truth. All the truth.” 

They didn’t execute him, or at least not that day Jon thought to himself. As he slept that night though, he still saw you dying on the floor in your own blood. Sam had tried asking him about the girl, about Ygritte. Especially since he now had Gilly in his life but Jon knew there was no comparing. From what he could tell, Gilly had more of a strange sheltered life then any of them, and she was nothing like the aggressive and hypocritical anger of the wildling girl Jon had travelled with. 

But he didn’t want to talk about Ygritte, he didn’t want to talk about having to send his only protection in Ghost away just to save his cover from that of death. Didn’t want to talk about what he was forced to do and how he tricked himself into thinking it was all fine just to cope with it. 

Only a few times did Sam try to gently bring up the other, but Jon shot it down every single time. He already felt pain and anger about it, about Robb. Jon certainly didn’t want to talk about you. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

Jon had a job to do, and he was haunted enough in his dreams of your death to have Sam try and comfort him about it. Besides, he didn’t even have Ghost now. He hadn’t seen him since sending him off and all he could remember in his waking hours, was the two of you sitting in front of the Weirwood. Ghost still tiny curled up in your lap as you sat in his arms. 

He was losing everything it seemed, but he’d be damned if he lost this place, the only thing that served from the gods to provide Jon with any kind of purpose. In this coming war, or the one foreboding against them in the distant colds of the far North. 

The Dreadfort was a befitting name you supposed. It stood tall in what looked like the middle of nowhere, cleared land all around the high walls, that build up on the inside to the highest fort in the dead centre with edges at the top looking like sharp, imposing teeth. As your eyes drifted along it, a woozy feeling came over you from the last push to get into the lands past the remaining Ironborn. Gates opening, the court was as drab and deary as the rest of it and yet the people all scattered around were normal. 

Roose Bolton climbed from his horse first to greet a figure awaiting in the distance, and introducing his new wife. Walda was a bit younger then you, and certainly held more life in her eyes and face then you did. A brightness as she was brought into the castle where you were pulled off the front of the horse by two men. 

Turning from the other man, Roose looked to them with orders, “Put her in a cell, and have Maester Wolkan look her over.” You hardly had a chance to see or hear anything else as you were dragged into a deeper part of the structure. The cells in your vision were along a single wall and quite small as the only light was a small set of torches lit along wall corners. 

None said a word to you, but you went willingly as they opened the doors. Cutting your hands free behind your back before tossing you in and closing behind you. The echos of their feet fading off until it was the flickering of the flames left alone with you. 

Wincing as you dragged yourself up with palms braced on the ragged ground before finding a resting spot against the wall and side of the cell. Resting your head along the bars you couldn’t figure out what it was you were feeling. Your body held an ache all over where some places burned like a festering would alight. 

Eyes barley focusing on the wall beyond your cell, they wanted to let tears fall freely but you simply had nothing left in you. The shock of waking up had passed by this point, and now all that was left was the murky depths left behind and only one thing at a time could come to the surface for air. You could still hear the strings playing, the hall filling with music that had you, nor anyone, suspect a thing until it was already over. 

You hardly thought any other music existed, it looped in your mind as did the damning stop of it as the instruments blurred to weapons. Perhaps it was your doom to sit reliving such a moment and yet you found nothing in you to say Roose Bolton took you just to let you rot. 

He had tried to kill you, and you had even lay there beside Robb thinking he had succeeded until..the wall torch fire before you flashed to another fire, and that turned to yells and chanting and in a split second you flew a hand to to grasp tightly at one of the bars as your lungs gave out. You told yourself not to think about it, you said you would never look back to that sight-

A door opening had you slam your eyes shut, breathing so harshly out that you felt the dizziness spin around you. Your hand still gripped the bar so tightly though that it strained your hand into a cramp as you willed your panic to swallow. “My lady,” 

Slowly you opened them, trying to stay still as you glanced up and to the side where a man you didn’t recognize stood. Two guards behind him, but you did note the chains across his robes before sighing and turning away. 

The guards entered behind him to stand at attention as he came towards you. “My lady, I am Maester Wolkan, I am here to see how your health is faring.” He knelt down in front of you as you huffed out a painful spit of air as it trying to fake a laugh. “I understand you have been through a lot, if you would allow me?” 

Rolling your head to the side so he could see your still discoloured eye, he tilted your head back and forth to see the other cuts along you. “How long have you had this fever?” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even know. It had been days since you woken up, and it’s felt both like years of pain have passed through you and only seconds since losing everything of your life. 

Wolkan lightly soaked a cloth in a small basin of water before dabbing it across your forehead, the coolness of it making you hiss towards the feeling against your burning skin. Taking it upon himself, he washed away some of the blood and grime on your face as the water left a cool sheen on it.

“Can you stand on your own?” Your eyes narrowed in confusion before remembering he was there to look at your wounds, when truthfully you didn’t see the point. Nodding, you hissed in lifting yourself up, letting him look over your arm, pulling apart the torn fabric near your shoulder to look at the deep unhealed scar inside of it. “Any pain or difficulties moving this arm at all?” 

You shook your head no, passing your notice, that it made him pause, looking at you almost puzzled for just a moment. He must have been told some of the wounds, as gently asked you, “I will have to undo the laces against your back to check the one there.” You didn’t react, just looked to the nothing on the dark walls as he looked where you pushed away the memory of an arrow. Not the one which hit you, no, the ones that-

“This might seem a droll indecent, but I was informed you had received a significant injury on your stomach and I will need to take a look at it.” You were stuck at the arrows, not thinking of anything else after reliving the seconds as they hit him, and your eyes finding a watering that luckily was hard to see in this light. 

The man had to gently pull up the skirt of your dress, trying carefully not to peel it on the sensitive skin as he revealed what you had no bravery to look at. But by not looking at it, you also missed the shocked, almost dreadfully fearful astonishment in Wolkan’s face. “My lady how did-” 

“Ask your lord, he will know better.” 

The finality in your tone ended that line of thought in his head, but his eyes were so focused on the wounds that you begun to shake from the lack of energy. Dropping it back down he gently grabbed your upper arms, “Here, you can sit once more.” 

It took some time for him to come to an assessment, packing up some of his things. “I fear you have an infection, my lady. The lack of food and water likely making it overstay it’s place for much longer, I will have simple water and broth sent down to you for the next while. As well as a potion that will help speed the process.” Glancing down to your stomach and then your dulled eyes he paused, “It is the-”

“I don’t want to to hear it, just send me what I need to take and I’ll take it. Now if we are finished Maester, I’d like to be left alone to rot in the quiet.” Watching you for a few significant moments, he respected your wish and made his way to leave. 

Normally he would inform you the degree which it would make you ill before getting better, but he had the feeling you had very little care on such a side effect. Such a state you were in, how bloodied and unwell you were as Lord Bolton dragged you across much of the North, and then was the wounds on her stomach..as far as Wolkan in all his knowledge could tell anyone, there shouldn’t have been a soul who could have survived that. 

It hadn’t healed, but it was as if it was to stay open and deep without having any impact on the skin around it. It was a gruesome, violent, jagged series of scars all connected together, and yet it was as if they existed separate of your body.

In the main hall, the Greyjoy in Ramsay Snow’s care looked as unwell and ragged as the lady in the cells, but subservient to the point it made many uncomfortable. “If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side now that Robb Stark is gone.” 

Theon pausing in his actions shaving the younger man, a horror in his eyes that was desperate to be pushed back down before it swallowed him whole. Ramsay with no genuinity in his sorrowful tone. “Oh that’s right, Reek. Robb Stark is dead.” 

Roose Bolton notably said nothing to stop his sons torment of Theon. Turning to Locke instead he gave the man an offer, “Find those boys and I’ll give you a thousand acres and a holdfast.”  

Locke asking on any ideas where to start, and the beginnings of a true mistake unknowingly spilling from Roose’s mouth in instruction. “Jon Snow is at Castle Black. Their bastard brother, he could be sheltering them, he may know where they are. Even if he doesn’t he’s half Stark himself which means he could prove to be a threat. Especially if he learns of our most recent prisoner,” Pausing as he looked to Ramsey with something that Theon couldn’t yet grasp, how could he? He didn’t know any of who else they were keeping here besides himself.

Looking back to Locke, Roose was specific with your name on his lips that way too quickly made Theon swallow harshly, “Make sure no mention of her presence here gets out. Jon Snow was close with the girl, and she is his brothers widow. If he isn’t hiding the boys, he may still learn that she’s being kept here. And I don’t care to have him bringing a fight to our doorstep to get her back.” 

His instructions included killing you, that much was made clear from Tywin Lannister but apparently you were a frustrating little fighter. It was a surprise to find later in the night, you were still alive. He had come up as the blood was all still fresh, knocked you with his foot onto your back and you were as dead as every other corpse in the hall. You and Robb both pale, blood had spilled out and stopped, and not a pulse to be felt as both your eyes sat wide, colourless, and defeated. There was no question about it.

Until later when he had returned. Ensuring the giant direwolf had been taken care of, walking back in before the Freys and his men could do whatever with the bodies they wished. But as he approached the King and Queen, and with no one in the hall to have done so, suddenly, your eyes had been closed. And you had the faintest of pulses he’d ever felt, but it was there. He was sure he watched you die himself, but now you sat in his dungeon as a plan begun to formulate in his mind. 

Time was difficult for you to gauge, but far longer had begun to pass then you realized, weeks and months that felt like seconds or years. In that time, Roose building the steps to a proper claim, and promised his bastard son, that if he could prove himself and retake Moat Cailin, then he would reconsider his position. Afterall, if you were alive anyways, you were of no use to Roose in the hands of his bastard, but in the hands of a legitimate heir? Perhaps the gods left you alive for a reason. 

Roose just had to make sure that the half Stark at Castle Black heard no word of you being alive. Too many people underestimated Robb Stark for too long, and the same mistake would not be made twice, not for his brother. Ramsay has his own way of things, but Roose Bolton did not want to be the one to underestimate Jon Snow.  

Gods, how much time had even passed? You felt in a daze that never ended, even worse then before. A servant for the Maester brought down a vile smelling potion which tasted even worse. Since you had kept nothing down. The broth and water seems to be your only diet to make having it come right back up less disgusting. 

You were dripping in sweat, your head running so hot you wondered if the fire of the torch would even burn you. Sometime in the hours, or days that had passed you would see things your mind told you to not believe. Some of it you knew, most of it felt like a life that was beyond understanding. 

Laying in bed, there was rain pouring out the high windows that blended with the river in the distance, the light of the moon dripping you in shades of blue matching his bright eyes as you lay bare on your side into the equally as bare chest of another. His hand drifting across your stomach so gently in touch as you nuzzled into their neck. The feeling of his curls dancing around your cheek before the strings begun.  

The begun and as they played you opened your eyes in the same position as his hand raised now soaked in blood. Looking to you his blue eyes were in a terrified horror before you could see them go out all the same. Only as you lay there on your side, feeling the blood rushing from your stomach like it was to never end, did the room twist and turn to a red.

Red tones and fire all around as a voice in a foreign accent spoke in your ear. Their red hair hanging low as she spoke and if you had the strength to turn you could see the tight red ruby choked around her neck as she spoke. “Your Great Wolf to stand with you and your children together.”

You wanted to turn and lash out, scream that he was dead and so was the child in your womb but all that happened was blood rushing now from your mouth too. Too much blood that you begun to choke on it as you turned to her the red ruby trailing up until a pair of eyes met yours. Eyes of blue that sat on the head of a wolf it did not belong with, only as the faint chanting begun did your eyes snap open.

Turning to the corner behind you did you violently cough up nothing but water and bitter bile that scraped at your throat. One hand pressed against the wall and the other braced on the floor as you brought up what was hardly even there. Your throat burned as your stomach did, the servant who was bringing it down for you to drink would tell you it is to cleanse your system of the rot and it only felt like it spread violently. 

No sense of night or day, you hardly even had enough resolve to pay attention to the schedule of the guards. The servant of the Maester seemed kind, but he was a young boy who didn’t know any better you suspected. No one else spoke to you, or much looked at you. 

As you heaved to catch your breathe in between the pressure on your chest as you spit up more bile, you wondered if it mattered anymore. If none of them knew who you were, it would not matter what happened to you you maybe life would be easier if you just died on them. 

It would be easier for you as well. But there was nothing for such a thing in the cell. Just dirt, and your own fluids that mixed horribly. If any were to find you now, they’d easily mistaken you for a filthy craven, and you felt like one. 

You barley heard the footstep over the heaves of your breathe until they were speaking to you right outside the bars. “Oh my word,” Gasping you flung yourself back, almost pressing up against the wall with fright. You barley could recognize the fellow kneeling down looking at you, but you think perhaps he was in the courtyard when greeting Roose. 

Hair dark to an almost black and laid flat across his forehead with eeiry pale blue eyes that were wide as they looked at you. You said nothing, untrusting of any face that looked at you in such a place. Looking you over, he sighed to himself. “I heard we had a guest, but such a shame to find you in a state such as this, my lady.” 

Straightening your back, you dragged your knees up to your chest, as you narrowed your eyes. He simply shrugged to himself before holding a hand out through the bars, seeing you not move an inch as he grimaced and pulled back even slower. “Not a woman for formalities, I can understand that. Especially in a state such as this,” whistling out he looked you over in a way you could only describe as making you feel even dirtier then you were. “Why they didn’t even bother offering you new clothes, you’re stuck in the same bloody ones as you arrived. That will not do, a lady should at least have a pretty dress to go with such a pretty face.” 

“What do you want?”

He reacted none to the bluntness, your voice scratched badly like claw marks scraped down your throat. “Well I would be remiss if I didn’t pay the late Queen in the North a visit.” You bit your tongue to the point it threatened to bleed, it was a mockery. Is that what you were supposed to see yourself as anymore, here thrown away in the dungeons to waste in the home of the very man who murdered your king? “Oh, I’m so sorry. Sensitive subject, I know.”

His voice was so exaggerated in his inauthenticity, you bought not a word and you thought you likely weren’t supposed to. “If you’ve come down here to mock me, fair not. Bolton’s men have seen fit to do that the entire journey, I am not with a lack of torment.” 

It felt so unnerving, his eyes. The way they lingered on you in ways you couldn’t immediately detect the intention of and a glint behind them that terrified you beyond what anything you’d see. But you were lucky, you were too faded inside to show it as he spoke once more. “You wound me, my lady. We’re in the North you see, we supported our King in the North and his Queen. But, I suppose if he’s good and dead that doesn’t really make you one anymore does it?” 

You didn’t care if you were a queen, you cared that you were Robb’s wife and now you broke your promise to stay together. You swore a vow in love and now you sat with his blood in your mouth and son dead from your womb. “Then again, you are still a Baratheon, does that make you a princess now? No, that doesn’t seem quite right either does it. A girl like you doesn’t scream princess.” 

Finding the strength to turn away from him, you looked at the nothing of the dark wall. Your name quiet on your lips. “That’s all I am I suppose.” 

“I seem to have you at a disadvantage, I know your name my lady but you don’t know mine do you? You’ve likely heard of me, most call me Ramsay, others call me Roose Bolton’s bastard son.” Your back chilled as you shivered, despite the sweat and the heat in your mind. So his family is all in on it, that was just what you needed to hear. 

Turning your head to face him as it leaned against the wall, you raised an eyebrow dully. “Did you want something, or can I die in peace?” 

He tsked as he stood up. “Now my lady, you can’t die. We haven’t spent nearly enough time together for me to be sick of you. I came to tell you, once you’re better, I can find you a nice room, a hot bath and we’ll see about any nice, pretty dresses we can get for you.” 

Clearly, he did not care if you bought into him. It didn’t matter if you left this cell or not, you couldn’t see past the blood and the fog in your head marred by the strings of music. He only took a few steps away before spinning back to you in a dramatic fashion. 

“How silly of me, I did come here with a present actually. You see, I have a little task I have to leave for, and I just couldn’t bear the thought if something happened to him and you didn’t get a chance to meet each other. My own servant, a very special boy I’ve whipped him up to be.” You narrowed your eyes as you felt your limbs weigh too much, you’d have passed out from exhaustion were he still not insisting on talking. 

“If he does a good job while we’re away, I may just start lending him to you once we get you back on your feet. I’m sure he will be the perfect company. Reek, come say hello.” If you had anything left to bring back up to the surface of the world, you would have. 

Instead you lost all breathe, head spinning as you found the appearance of this so called present. Much like you, marred in grime and dirt and sickly appearance to their skin that matched with the matted hair grown out. As if their entire existence was in a detrimental fear, you felt a weight in your throat that kept you from any words. 

Dark eyes that refused to look at a thing slowly drifted upwards until they met the agony of yours and your heart pounded until it flattened to nothing and left you woozy. There was a recognition in his eyes that you were to delusional and feverish to understand. 

Something that in Ramsay’s delight of torment, did not see. A pain of who he was looking at and what state they both had ended up in, alone in the world trapped within the confines of the family of flayers and torturers. “Now Reek, it’s not polite to stare. I’m sure the lady isn’t quite ready so soon after her husbands tragic death, besides not like you have the ability to do anything about it.” 

He shook and you narrowed your eyes in confusion with a tilt of your head, you felt the need to vomit once more as the potion swam through your stomach like it had for days now. Leaving you once more, Ramsay had to pull him away when he took half a second too long to part from your eyes. The dungeons fell quiet and dark once more and your mind only had enough time to feel even more confused until your stomach forced more burning up. 

“And Theon? I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. Then I’ll take his head myself.” 

Collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain, you curled up with your knees back against your chest. The hurt and betrayal on his face that day, the way only you seemed to give him any peace as you both stood unified in what he commanded. But this was no longer such a day, such a time. 

The blue eyes you wanted to see were darker then those pale ones, and with an adoration you wanted to scream at. Robb didn’t want this for you, Theon. Neither of us did, you thought. You demanded justice at Robb’s side, but this was not justice. 

If what you were holding back cries of pain for was not justice, you couldn’t imagine what found it’s way into his terror to make Theon Greyjoy look as frail and petrified as you felt. 

He was fighting to call himself one or the other. Reek was screeching in his head that he would be punished for this, but Theon kept climbing the stairs anyways. It was quite late, and he was already under orders to bring you a meal but he was not given orders to speak to you. So why was he walking down and fighting to not do so?

Walk in, open the gate, sit the food down and return like Reek was ordered to do, but as he stood outside the cell door, it was like for a moment Theon screamed at him and sent Reek down past his consciousness. Voice stammering and weak did he mutter your name, he did it twice and maybe if he had to do it a third he would chicken out and leave. But you looked. 

Sat against the wall with your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them and your head tucked in the middle, you rose up and it was clear as day the tears. Theon wasn’t sure he’s ever seen you cry. Very few would have and you were good at keeping it to yourself, but then again, Theon was good at many things Reek was not. 

Placing a small vial on the ground before moving to sit the tray beside you. He couldn’t even stammer out the words before you huffed out another tearful cry and kicked the tray from you. Sending him back in a jump. The way you looked up at him, who even were you on the inside? Did you not see yourself anymore as Theon saw Reek in his reflection? Had you even seen the state of yourself, eyes dulled to a weakness you’d never shown, eye still discoloured from where someone must have hit you and a flush to your skin that he knew came from having nothing in your system. 

What happened? How did it happen? How did Robb- 

He breathed out heavily as he snapped his head to attention. It poured out before he could stop himself from saying it. “I was wrong. I- I took Winterfell and I was wrong…” You said nothing. Your lips parted but closed once more with a heavy swallow. “I…” 

“Theon,” your voice was so quiet. Somewhere in his mind, he recalled the people called you the Silent Stag, always quiet you were but just as notable. But this quiet wasn’t that, this was a whisper that worried it was too loud even in the stone of a dungeon. “I..we didn’t- it’s my fault.” You inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for the action before opening them with a calmer look that refused to look at him. 

“I didn’t know they’d do this..any of this..and we sent them. I’m sorry.” 

Both inside him struggled how to feel, Reek had nothing to accept an apology for and yet Theon knelt forward to the ground. Crouching he slowly opened the vial with a shaky breathe before holding it to you. He wanted to speak and you could see it but neither pushed until he whispered it out like a deathly vow being broken as you drunk the liquid. “I didn’t kill them. Bran and Rickon. I didn’t kill them, I lied.” 

Your lips fell open as neither of you looked anywhere but between your bodies on the floor. “Roose Bolton killed Robb. Shoved a knife in his heart, and a few times in me.” Likely you didn’t know why you showed him, or even told him, but Theon’s breathing quickened as you lifted the fabric. The skin underneath was utterly blood soaked in ways he’d only ever seen on those of the dead. But why were they on you if you were here? “If that isn’t vengeance..”

Theon wanted to stay and talk, but Reek heard the sounds of footsteps far in the distance and tore himself back. “I-” He didn’t look you in the eye, he couldn’t at this point. “I’ll come back.” 

Your voice was far away, your eyes had lulled shut back into a dream of stringed nightmares as you muttered, “Of course you will. He’ll order you too.” 

Your nails were bloody, but you think it was starting to carve properly. The nothing drawing in the wall that kept you occupied for most of the day now. It was silent for a while once you were better, guards came to bring you a meal and then it was back into the quiet. There was no outside world here, no wars once fought, no lives trying to find peace, nothing. Just the walls of your cell, and the carving you were scraping into the stone wall. 

No sense of time came to you, it could have been years and you would be none the wiser of anything. Another war could have come and passed, not an inkling would’ve found you. You only saw the guards and the dungeon. You only dreamt of the blood and the strings as you awoke everytime knowing you failed him. 

Every attempt to come out into your soul was hollow, something was missing and it was part of what made you human. You could only see the curls against blue eyes that looked to you desperate not to see you go. It broke your heart everytime you saw him. 

The horror in your heart was settled somewhat in those final seconds, you would go together as you promised. From this day until our last day. And yet his last day was not yours, and you lived on without him. Guilt and shame ate away at you for breaking your vow to always be together, wherever his soul sat with the gods now you wondered if Robb was ashamed of you. 

You lived on without him, and you lost his unborn son. There was nothing left of Robb Stark with you anymore and the only proof he ever was, was a scar running so jaggedly along your lower stomach that you could feel each time Roose stabbed it back inside you. Tracing it gently enough with your fingers. A terrible stroke of luck, or was it the gods forcing it onto you?

Because the longer you sat in that silence alone, the more you came up with ways to fix it. What reason were you to still be here, why were you still alive if your existence was less then a rats. It wouldn’t be easy in here, but you could do it if you were really desperate. You wanted to the more weeks passed into months as you were alone down here. Shut away from the world, a dead wife to the King in the North, sequestered down in a dingy cell in the Dreadfort. Captive of the family who did this to you, and nothing to do but think of how much Robb would hate what you’ve become. 

This shell was not the woman he fell in love with, and you weren’t entirely sure you could even get that woman back now. Maybe part of you really did die beside him, and what remains in your body now is just the base of grief and anger that will burn through you until you’ve had enough. 

The gods were cruel however. The day he came to see you, it was the understanding of why they bothered to keep you alive. A confident man, Roose Bolton walked up to your cell with the same collected look he has had since the day you met him. Glancing around the cell, he could see you made very little use of the space, as if always having to be positioned against the bars to see the opening of the main door.

“I assume by now you realize no one is coming for you.” Your eyes glared up at him in a silent contemptuous irritation. “The Seven Kingdoms all think you’re dead. Tragically killed at the side of your husband-”

“They know you’re the one who put a knife to him? Or have you let Walder Frey take all of the credit for that?” Roose raised an eyebrow at you, unexpected of the sharp and angry tone that came from an otherwise unwell prisoner. “Suppose it isn’t really you who the southerners care about anyways. You get to claim you killed an unarmed King, and his pregnant wife when you only did it because you had Tywin Lannister to hide behind the skirts of.” 

Stepping forward to you, he looked down with ease as you craned your neck up to find his own, the anger in your voice did not match your eyes. “It is encouraging see you have put your time down here to good use. I kill Robb Stark and yourself, and in return I am given the title Warden of the North until the son of Sansa and Tyrion Lannister comes of age to take over. Unfortunately, there has been a problem in his planning.” 

You twisted your face at the unpleasant imagery.

“Sansa has fled King’s Landing after the murder of King Joffery, and her imp husband is to go on trial.” A year ago you would have been thrilled at the news that your repulsive once cousin was dead, now though it was a non victory that felt hollow. The world indeed kept turning outside the walls and you were none the wiser of a single tinge of it. “Sansa’s son by Tyrion was intended to be the key to the North for the Lannisters as they have no other ties, now there is no child to inherit the North from me.” 

Biting your tongue, you exhaled harshly through your nose to will the angry beating of your heart down to something manageable. “Did you come here to gloat about your new title or did you just want to remind me of what you’ve done.” 

“My men are reclaiming what’s left of the Ironborn that stands in the road to Winterfell, and we will soon move there once my son has cleared the way. You will be coming with us. Willingly.” 

Your voice scratched as you huffed a laugh, “And do tell, my lord. Why would I ever go with you willingly?” You watched as he knelt in front of you, and the frustration in your voice did not match how you pressed yourself against the wall further. 

With every inch of your body you hated the quiet calm in his voice as he nodded to your attire. “Because if you do, I will make sure you are cleaned, properly fed, groom you up and dress you like a lady and not like that creature my son drags around. You won’t be able to leave the castle walls, or go anywhere outside without being under guard. But I won’t throw you back into a cell.” 

Not a thought came to you that imagined yourself like that anymore. Your life was drenched in blood and memories of pain that blurred out the rest in it’s grief. Would you feel more like a person to even just breathe fresh air? Was that worth playing along with the man who betrayed his people and murdered your king and child? 

Roose did not wait for any kind of response, moving towards the cell door when you asked, “Why? If I’m just a prisoner why bring me to Winterfell? No one even knows I’m alive, what would it matter if you keep me locked away in here?”

The blood inside you cooled to a freeze as you looked wide eyed with a hesitant fear that you know he caught onto. “If Ramsay is successful in retaking Moat Cailin, he will be granted a legitimate son and become a Bolton. The Lannisters won’t help me keep the North, but perhaps I don’t need them to. All the Stark men are dead, which means if Ramsay is a Bolton, he will be my firstborn son and heir. And he will be needing one of his own.” 

Roose didn’t elaborate but he didn’t need to. You almost begun to bite your tongue so hard on unknowing it could have bled. You felt sick as you had days ago, but this was an illness rooted in a fear and bloody memories of your last. “You truly think I would ever let him-” 

One eyebrow raised, his voice was patronizing as it was condescending. “Do you think you have any choice in the matter? Shall I reminder you how it is the world works?” 

You glared up with as much energy as you could summon, a sneer on your own face as you sharply bit back, “Do use small words, my lord. I’m not as bright as you.” 

You didn’t expect it to even effect him in the slightest. He rarely budged on anything, especially now when it is was he holds all the power. “You are a highborn lady, and if my son should succeed he will be a legitimate highborn to inherit my own lordship. You are also my prisoner, and I don’t think I need to remind you of my own stance on prisoner treatment. Ramsay doesn’t need your permission to use you to produce an heir.”

Do not show anything else you told yourself, do not let him see the fear in your heart. “I’m not a Northerner, Lord Bolton. I have no claim that could help you.” 

A lightness in his eyes was the most genuine you had seen in since that night and you felt even more ill thinking on it. “No, but you were the Queen that Robb Stark chose, you were the Queen every Northern chose, my lady. That is claim enough for what we require.” 

By the time you found any bravery left in your voice you called out to him before he could leave you alone in the darkness of the dungeon once more. “Did you ever believe in him? Or was it all just a lie the entire time? You served him for almost three years, was none of it ever true?” 

Roose sounded as if he was giving a simple order to a servant, no care for his monstrosity. “I believed in Robb Stark right up until I shoved my dagger covered in your blood into his chest. But loyalty does not buy me money or power, and Tywin Lannister simply had the better offer.” The dagger sat on his waist, blood for you to see and all. You’d felt many illnesses down here, but it was that which made you loose every sense left to you. 

The door closed and once more you were left in darkness. You weren’t sure when the tears had started, but this time you let them fall until your eyes dried out like sands in the Dornish summer. 

You should have died with Robb, and you truly were beginning to think it was necessary to find a way to go back to him, one way or another. He had told you once you in those days before your wedding that you belonged in Winterfell, but what was your belonging in such a place without the wolves to keep you company?

Kneeling in front of it, it’s fur looked on the darker brown side, with one leg bent at the knee in a manner that would’ve caused it to stumble down where it lay. Looking up it’s body you could see right in it’s neck, antlers soaked in blood. Your hands bare, you grabbed the sticky, bloodied end and as you pulled it out, whispering in the wind was a voice. “Tough old beast.” 

Looking up as you held the antlers now, the voice was that of Ned, but no where to be seen. Perhaps hiding in the blackness around you? But even now the sun shined more above you then the dark snow before, he still was nowhere. You looked over the object in your hand, a morbid twist in your throat passing back down as you placed it gently beside you. Moving around to the side of it’s face you could see a trail of blood. One pooled around the wound in the largest and leaders neck. “There are no direwolves south of the wall.” Robb? Both Stark men hiding where you could not see. 

Kneeling on the ground to look over the creature you heard a deeper, rasping voice in the wind “Now there are five.” All three were together, Ned, Robb and Jon until one more joined, younger and higher pitched.

“Where will they go?” Your heart rushing over, another whisper that sounded all around you but nowhere to be seen. This time that of Bran.

The whines of pups caught your eye, and looking to the litter around it, you found two other blood trails that followed. One to a bright one, whites and greys that were well groomed and pretty but there was a wound in it’s chest that bled out. One clean stab it had looked like as it lay the furthest away, so much so you could barley see it. 

Another sat beside where you found yourself kneeling. A handsome array of dark grey’s over it’s fur as your stomach revolted over the sight. Blood encased it all over, small punctures and one right by it’s heart until you could see it’s head nowhere to be found. “They don’t belong down here.” Ser Rodrick was next but once more it was as if they were all around you whispering in the winds, hiding what lies beyond the veil of darkness around you. 

Three remained, one darker with a blacker fur and two more pups that were in deep browns that matched that of the dead wolf they clung by. The commanding voice of Ned rang out as you looked to the three remaining pups, one girl and two boys “Better a quick death.” 

Blood from the grey pup next to you begun to spill over, rushing along your shift with a mind of it’s own like water and pooling around your stomach as the sound of Bran yelled out “No, please father.” 

Your hand ran along the side of the headless one with a morose sorrow, Ned’s deep voice with as much in his own wind filled voice, “I’m sorry, Bran.” 

Only it was Jon’s voice that turned your head up to still find them all hiding from you, but with a plead that spoke of the sight around you as if not caked in death and blood. “Lord Stark. There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house, you were meant to have them.” 

Your eyes stung with the heavy scent of blood as the three remaining young turned and ran off. The female all alone as she ran into the darkness, and the other two stuck together until a tree came into their view. One going around one side and the other wolf pup the other but never came back to the other. Finding a path alone in the darkness now split. 

Only death remained. The winds were quiet once more, and the voices of the men hiding from you no longer spoke. Just death and the running water beside you. Standing up you took a step back, turning to where you found the Stag you got only a few feet forward. 

There was no sound, no whine of a pup, no voice in the wind but you were compelled to turn around in your place. The snow and freezing, sunless dark had returned and no longer were there any direwolves but one. Larger then the other pups, but not quite as large as the biggest that had once laid where it stood, you saw it’s striking red eyes wide as it watched you. 

It’s fur was different then the others, a pure white that fit with the snow around him. Lips parting to speak it’s name, you heard Jon’s voice in the winds speak yours first. 

Eyes opening, you sighed into the warmth of the sheets and fire in the room. Looking around it was still the night as when you fell asleep. The sheets pooling low around you hips as you sat up, you could see Robb partially dressed looking over things at the desk. 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you couldn’t help but try and grasp for memories of what you had dreamt. You struggled with that the more vivid they were, you could barley recall anything beyond small images. Sighing out as nothing firmly came to you, you gently draped your self over the pillows behind, letting the sheets fall lower as you shifted your legs. 

His head turning to the sound, Robb paused as he looked to you, blue eyes looking from how low you were covered and up to your chest then face. A playful dark colour in his own swam over, leaning back with one arm on his desk and the other on the back of his chair as he turned to face you. A smirk on his lips as he tilted his head. “How am I supposed to sit here and plan a war, when you’re over there looking like that?” 

Smiling gently, you slid your legs down onto the coolness of the floor before standing, having no interest in covering up beyond a thin sheet, when he would just pull whatever it was off himself. With open arms he guided you to climb into his lap, now facing the desk again as you held onto his shoulders. “I do believe my King is good enough to focus on both.” 

Your lips finding his neck, gently pressing kisses down it as he sighed out, holding your hips firmly. “You, are a little temptress these days. What’s a man supposed to do with a wife this needy?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as you trailed back to to kiss the rough facial hair over his jaw. “How have I only just gotten you pregnant now? Clearly I didn’t treat my Queen the way she deserves nearly enough.” 

Robb pulling you to kiss him properly as you relaxed into his touch, forgetting the sheet it draped down in your lap, your bare chest pressing against what of his was exposed by his open shirt. You let one hand drift down to run over the skin you could find, but he never deepened his kiss. Just a tender, intimate need until you pulled away needing air. 

Breathless with a smile, you wrapped your hands around his neck. “I think he’s proof you treat me just fine.” 

One hand on your hip trailed over, his smile soft and tender to the point it could break your hear from being so full. “Maybe we’re lucky,” kissing down your neck again and back up until he reached your ear with his breathe hot. “Maybe I’ve given you a little princess as well to keep our son company.” 

You smiled as he bit at your ear and your an a hand through his hair. “Already getting greedy before little Ned is even in this world, yet?” 

Robb pulled back, leaning against the chair as he held you at both your hips. A bright look in his eye that could water if he didn’t try, “You want to name him after-” 

You nodded, leaning forward to run a hand through Robb’s hair again. “Someone should. Your father named his two eldest sons after his closest companions, Jon Arryn named his after Robert, but neither them honouring your father with the same. Who better to remember him by then you? The one who risked everything just to save his life.” 

Choking on something deep in his throat, he swallowed heavily but his voice was strained and rough trying to keep his emotions in check. The love and softness in his eye though, gave it away. “And our little girl?” You both knew what that answer was, as Robb leaned up once more to pull you into his arms and keep you close to his chest. “I think he deserves to have his sister beside him again, don’t you think?” 

You nodded firmly, keeping your face tucked into his neck. The quiet around you was calm until you of so quietly spoke up, “Think this will make her feel any better?” 

Robb sighed, running his hand up and down your back knowing that it had bothered you just as much as it had him. “She has to get over it. It isn’t her decision and if the lords who witnessed it all agreed with me and you, then it’s fair to say we made the right one. If it’s not us,” His hand over your stomach once more, “and it’s not them, then he’s the only one I’d want it to be after me. He deserves it, all of it.” 

The evening had been an argument, you were to leave soon for the Twins but a raven had come for Robb with news that started the whole thing. Reading it to himself at first, his jaw was clenched before handing it to you. Eyes sharp as he watched your face fall into surprise and then steeled it into realization. 

Catelyn was as confused a she was shocked. “I don’t understand.”

Your palms braced on the table with an irritated sigh as you looked at her, “It’s Tywin.” Your head shaking firmly as you tried to keep your jaw from clenching so tight it snaps. “He’s using Sansa to get a hold on the North.” 

Sitting down, Robb was running over something in his head as his mother paced on the other side of the table in front of him. Turning to you, it was clear the protectiveness in her fought with what you all knew you couldn’t do. It had already happened, there was nothing to change that now. “She’s still just a girl..”

You looked at her with a dark and unpleasant knowing. “I don’t think that’s the thing on Tywin’s mind when he hatched this one up.” You swallowed as you looked to Robb, “Cersei had tried to do the same with me.” Catelyn’s eyes furrowed as you looked to nothing instead. “I was fourteen, I had just bled for the first time, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone but my father, but..the Queen found out and well, at the time I thought she was trying to be helpful but then-”

“Then your father sent you to live with us for over two years.” Robb’s voice as tight at the memory just as he had reacted all those years ago when you first told him what you suspected. That your father had sent you away so suddenly to prevent Cersei from marrying you off to a suitor of her choice, one that would only be a gain for the Lannisters.

You nodded, “The Lannisters don’t care about anything after shes old enough to have a child, meaning shes old enough to be used as some pawn to be married off for leverage. Tywin marries her to Tyrion Lannister, they have a Stark Lannister baby and suddenly we have lions in charge of the North.” 

Her eyes closed as she collected herself, the only news of her daughters and once more there was not a single mention of Arya. None of you were comfortable with that that pattern could possibly mean. 

You leaned your back against the table beside Robb, “He means to take the north right from under us. And I won’t have it. Even if he wins this war.” Catelyn looked up to her son with a confused look but it was as Robb met your eye, knowing what his intention was. You could still hear the haunted words in your mind that she never allowed to happen.

“Make him a Stark and be done with it.” 

Looking to his mother with conviction, he and you both knew the argument about to happen as he spoke. “If Tywin Lannister wants the North, he will have to take it from me, from us, and if I die, he’ll have to take it from the heir after me.” Catelyn clearly felt unwell at the thought but neither you nor Robb looked at it that way. Not right now.

You sighed deeply, “If Robb dies he needs an heir, if I die or the baby dies as well he still needs an heir. Someone to take over as King in the North, someone who we trust beyond any doubt that he would be just as much of a leader.” 

The silence was palpable and you wondered if she had seen it coming or not. “I have a feeling you already have a name in mind.” 

“I’m naming Jon my heir.” 

Catelyn stood immediately, “Robb,” her voice disapproving and already pleading as she leaned over the table slightly, “He is not a legitimate Stark he can’t-”

“He can if it’s my order. Bran and Rickon are gone, we’ve hear nothing of Arya and even if my son is born tomorrow it will be eighteen years before he’s even of age. I need to name a successor now.” Robb stood slowly, pacing around the table to look at his mother with a calmness that brewed something in it’s background. 

“Do you remember the last time a King named a bastard-?” 

Words in your mind of Robb’s, soothing and warm telling you to remain calm. He wanted you there, but to let him handle his mother. He wanted you to rest, saying it wasn’t good for either you or the baby to let you get worked up this way. But as you watched her, you stepped up beside Robb and knew he was keeping back anger of his own as he motioned towards you. “Jon would never harm her. Or our son.”

Robb’s hand finding the small of your back as Catelyn found no allies in either pairs of eyes. Her emotions were running too hot it seemed as she spoke, “Like how you thought Theon Greyjoy would not harm Bran or Rickon?” 

His eyes blazed in an anger you knew her mother had not seen towards her before, and behind her there was a deep growl. Grey Wind giving away the intensity as she looked to see the direwolf’s aggressive and low growl towards her. Looking back at you, but you knew perhaps she was realizing the story she admitted in guilt only made it now much worse. “Watch yourself mother, remember who it is you’re speaking of. My father had four sons, not three.” 

“Sansa is alive, which makes her your father’s lawful heir-”

It was you who shot it down. “Sansa is married to a Lannister, we give her the north and the Lannisters will come marching at our doorstep behind her to take it. We’ve fought them for too long to just hand it over to them now.” 

She tried pleading but Robb, shook his head. “Sansa no longer holds any rights or position in my line of succession. She’ll always be my sister, but I refuse any action that allows the Lannisters to inherit our kingdom, our home. Jon is my brother, my fathers son, and he deserves as much as I’ve had.” 

Catelyns face betrayed her, and you felt sick that after everything she has said and done, she makes to treat Jon the exact same as the day she kicked him out into the cold during a Royal Feast. Jon hadn’t been allowed a place at that table, and now Robb wanting to give him the spot at the front, Catelyn still sees fit to keep him locked out just for his very existence. “Robb, a Snow is not a Stark.” 

“Jon is as much of a Stark as I am. He’s as much a Northerner as any of us. I trust him with my Kingdom, I trust him with my sons, and I trust him with my wife. He’d never do a thing against them, he’s got all of my father in him and more.” 

Robb’s hand was comforting around your back as you tried pushing down something that you hadn’t felt so strongly in a long time. Robb had trusted Jon with his wife, he just didn’t know that it was in the years before that. He knew you and Jon were close, and knew that he could trust him to keep you safe just without the understanding of how deep that once ran.

Sighing, she paced back a few steps with a hand to her forehead. “Jon is brother of the Night’s Watch. Sworn to hold no lands and take no wife. Those who take the black serve for life.” 

There was pride in Robb’s eyes towards you as you spoke, and a hopelessness in his mothers but you spoke with a heavy heart in as much a truth as you could spare. “So do the brotherhood of the Kingsguard. But that did not stop Cersei and Joffery from stripping Ser Barristan Selmy of his vows with no more then they simply chose to do so.” 

You couldn’t even be sure where this came from, but it was with a truth that you had no qualms of fulfilling as you finished, “If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.” 

Stepping forward he ran a hand over your waist before lowering his voice to something quiet but stern as you could see Grey Wind step up in his place to the other side of you. “Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would find it in your heart to support him just this once, mother. But if you do not, that does not change my decision. I’ve already had the other lords sign off on the decree.” 

With no leg left to stand on, that was when you and Robb took your leave. Now as you lay together in bed, the rain of the previous days did not let up once. Come morning you would make your way to the Twins with the still ever grumbling Edmure in toe. 

Robb’s arms wrapped around you and yours laying gently on his chest you both running your fingers gently on the others skin as he murmured low in your ear. “Probably best we don’t tell her what name we came up with for our second son.”

You laughed, head burying itself in his neck as he chuckled deeply. “Think we’re sending the poor woman into an early grave at this rate.” Staying quiet for a moment, you breached a topic that you seldom brought up alone. In the quiet intimate moments of the night between you and Robb, you had long since made it a conscious habit to keep Jon from your lips as much as possible. Until right now as the events of the evening boiled over. “I don’t understand. Her husband, his father dies, as do her own children and after all this time she refuses still to see him as anything but a bastard. I don’t get it, I’ve never gotten it.” 

His hand ran up and down your arm. “The fact she tried to even suggest Jon could be capable of hurting you or our children.” His voice was rough as his teeth gritted through an exhale. “Jon’s a better son then any father could ask for, better man then me it felt like sometimes.” 

Shifting up to look at him, better you lazily ran your fingers along his chest. “You’re both good men, you always have been.” 

Shaking his head he sat up with you, pulling your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, speaking as your eyes both watched the dark rain through the window. “You remember when you first came to Winterfell? How you were sick in those first days?” Nodding with a furrowed brow you didn’t recall much of anything from that time. “Father had Maester Luwin look you over, and he said that something on the trip north must have given you some kind of fever, that you’d spend the next few nights coughing and sweating it out before he could be sure if you’d make it.” 

It was serious, but you had been so young that the adults didn’t want to worry you with such past details. “I remember your father saying that he was preparing himself to send a raven to my parents, it was so bad.” 

“Luwin told him at least one person at any given time should stay by your side, you’re fever was so high if it got any worse that he’d need to know right away. He and my mother were going to take turns, but Jon volunteered right away. Said he’d look after you.” Your eyes narrowed, not knowing any of that but he continued.

“Three days you were sick, and I don’t think he ever left your side more then a few minutes. I didn’t know why, but he was adamant about taking care of you. My mother tried to get me to take over, but father just said to let him do it. Didn’t realize it then, but I think he wanted to let Jon have something for himself that my mother wouldn’t just take away from him.” You felt choked on the inside as you tried to relax more into his touch. 

Robb reaching up to play with the loose strands of your hair as he gently spoke close to your ear with a light laugh. “Only time I was allowed to take care of you was if Jon went to go get Luwin, saying that I’d only screw it up trying to tell him what’s wrong.” You breathed a laugh too, something in your eyes beginning to sting. “And my mother looked at that boy, and still never managed to find it in her heart to let go of her anger towards him. I’ve never understood it either, but I at least can do something to try and make it right.” 

You only whispered, voice heavy and a bit wavering. “I didn’t know any of this...”

Robb laughed, kissing the side of your head. “You weren’t awake for any of it, knowing Jon he probably didn’t want you to think he was only trying to trick you into being impressed.” 

Well, the joke was on Jon you supposed. You spent most of your entire life knowing him impressed with everything of who he was, and even now that feeling had not disappeared in the slightest. You loved Robb, truly and deeply, but another locked away part of your heart was taken all the way North to the wall with Jon and sometimes you just missed the ease of it. 

Jon was more then only someone you loved, he was your best friend. You and Robb both missed him.

The last time you had been at the Twins was a lifetime ago. Ned Stark was still alive, and the war effort had only begun as a fight to save his life. It was the place you all had sent some two thousand men to their graves in order to get the jump on Jaime Lannisters siege on Riverrun. So many victories since that had been easy until there was enough behind Robb’s ledger that suddenly they were too scared to come out of their castles and face him. 

Now Robb approached from the opposite side of the Trident, not as a boy or a lord but as King in the North, and you weren’t just the daughter of Stannis Baratheon anymore. You were Robb Stark’s queen, and the mother to what will be his children fighting for a free and independent North. In too many ways you didn’t feel at all like the person that crossed that bridge the first time. 

Yet you were really. Older, a bit wiser perhaps but the core of you felt the same as you looked to the man next to you. A softness that made you both melt and yet filled you with pride to be able to stand next to him. Edmure Tully however, couldn’t have looked more sullen if he tried. 

On the journey here, he had made more then enough comments, “When you made this deal he said I could choose whatever wife I wanted, now he’s picking for me” Catelyn shared a glance with you that would’ve been endlessly funny if the man didn’t continue on endlessly. “I’ve seen more then enough Freys to know what kind of night I’m getting myself into.”

Shaking her head she lectured her younger brother, “When I first saw Ned I didn’t think much of how he looked too, but we ended up loving each other greatly.” 

When he spared a glance to you, your eyes flickered over to Robb in the distance as an almost childish grin plastered on your face as you tried to hide it by looking down. “I’m afraid I can’t help on this matter.” Cat smirked to herself as Edmure huffed and you sat trying not to feel a bit flustered, for all the things that have happened to and between you, she was happy that it was you by her sons side. 

You made him happy, and he made you happy which despite the horror of the past few years, was the most Catelyn could ask for at that moment. 

Lucky for the lot of you, the rain had let up the day you arrived. A refreshing hint of sun peeking over the clouds and reflecting onto the water. Arriving, Grey Wind growled and made a scene as you and Robb approached the castle. Turning to him as a pair of Frey’s made a greeting, you and Robb tried to quell their worries but he was increasingly agitated. 

Only calming as Robb ran his hand over the direwolf with whispers that had the Freys watch in a fear and mistrust whereas the northerners all worried not. Informing a few of his men to keep Grey Wind in a stable for the night. “Have men keep an eye on him, when he’s worked up like this I’d prefer to let him out hunting,” 

The look in Grey Wind’s eyes as you parted was almost begging like a human but you were with Robb, and that was enough to let him watch you both leave. Not a clue between you and him what had the wolf so worked up.

The men making camp as your way was made inside of the Twins. The main hall was crowded with people, all of which in some way the man at the front’s children or grandchildren. Nearing ninety years old, he still found it in him to have such a young wife and your stomach churned at the thought to ignore how old, or how young, she looked. 

Hair stringy and long as his scowl has seedy and unpleasant as he sat there. Voice was as shaky and scratchy as he looked on top of it all. You stood silent, eyes colder then normal to the man who was giving nothing but an energy you did not feel well in. “Your Grace, my honoured guests. Be welcome within my walls and at my table. I extend to you my hospitality and protection under the light of the Seven.” 

Stepping forward, Robb kept a calm and appreciative tone. “We thank you for your hospitality, my lord. My Uncle and my family are grateful to have one of your daughters join in ours.” 

You looked to the side with a raise of your eyebrows to Edmure, who caught the look and made no expression beyond acknowledgement. Grumbled on the way here, but not anymore. Walder Frey smiled a bit to himself in an odd way. “My girls might not be too grateful, I offered any one of them to you, only for your mother to inform me you’d married a number of months earlier.” 

Robb didn’t glance to you, nor anyone but the Freys but you and Catelyn shared a look. It seemed, some bit of detail had been left out in what she and the lord before you all discussed that day. Arya and Edmure had been the agreement, but it seemed that were it not for you the deal might have extended to Robb. 

“One of them could’ve been your Queen, now none of them are.” 

He did a fine job of not showing it, but you could see in the small tension in his shoulders that Robb wasn’t pleased with such a suggestion. And from the looks of your men around you as well, it was uncomfortable for most of you. “Edmure Tully, why don’t you come see my girls for yourself, you’re the one marrying ‘em anyways.”

A half circle of girls stepped to the front of the hall, all varying in ages and some younger then you felt comfortable knowing was offered for marriage to a grown man. “This is Arwyen, my daughter. My daughter Walda, my daughter Derwa, my daughter Waldra,” The younger the group got the more there were. Naming them along as they go, two young girls of twins which Walder Frey had the indecency to comment to Edmure, “You could have had both for all I care.” 

Coming to the last of them was one that you struggled to keep a steady face for, “And here’s my youngest daughter Shirei, though she hasn’t bled yet.” Glancing to Robb with a knowing look that made the pair of you feel uncomfortable, “Clearly you don’t have the patience for all that. Now, let me see the one that had your mother needing to trade you out for your uncle.” 

Robb turned to you with a hesitant look but you stepped forward, keeping the unamused look on your face as he beckoned you closer. “Come closer, still can’t see you.” A few more steps and he had a sickening smirk like he was either toying with you to make you uncomfortable or Robb for pulling his wife so close to him in that manner. 

The man so openly looking you over, and you could feel Robb keeping a tight lid on his more possessive side to keep a peace between them. “Pretty, very pretty. Prettier then this lot that’s for sure. Very shapely as well.” You weren’t sure if you even moved an inch as he looked at you with slime in his eyes. “Oh, you try to hide her under that dress. If you wanted to hide her, you shouldn’t have brought her here in the first place. I can always see what’s going on beneath a dress.” 

When you had first met Theon Greyjoy, he had made some out of line comment to Robb and Jon about showing a “girl like her what a man really is”. You were only fourteen and the boys sixteen, and even then you could still see the hot temper coming out of both of them for saying that. 

Now? You couldn’t see Robb, but you knew without a doubt he was angry beyond belief, but you needed the Freys as an ally and if you stood there and took it, then unfortunately everyone else was just going to have to stand there and watch. 

“I’ve been at this a long time, your grace. I bet even with that baby of yours in there, you take that dress off and every man in here’d get nothing but hot and dumb for it.” He looked at Robb, “When I was your age, I’d have broken fifty oaths to get into that without second thought. Lucky you were married to a thing like her before coming to me.” 

The silence in the room was deafening until finally he clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ve enough room in the hall for you lot. We’ll set up tens outside with food and ale for the rest of your men.” 

Robb’s voice was rough and held back to the point as you stepped back you could see his eyes blazing angry. “Thank you, my lord.” 

Exiting the hall, Robb tugged you roughly to his side as he exhaled harshly. “He’s lucky I need his allegiance or I’d have ended this before he got more then two words out about you.” You turned to him, pausing for a moment as you were all to make your ways to prepare for the wedding. 

Your hands finding his chest as he pulled you closer and covered yours with his bringing them around his neck in your small moment of privacy. “It’s a shame, I find you quite handsome when you’re protective.” 

With a smirk, Robb leaned in to hover his lips over yours. “I think possessive is a bit more accurate, my Queen. You did marry a wolf afterall.” Pressing his lips ever so briefly to yours before pulling you alongside him. 

Just as much as he didn’t let you do much to get yourself ready, you in return did the same. Having Robb stand before you so you could be the one to adjust his formal attire, taking the chance to admire how little you got to see him in this kind of clothing now. The black was soft with textured with subtle ornate patterns draped down his sleeves. His cloak was similar as the length of the fabric was simple in matching darks, but the clasps around the front clicked together with silver coated direwolves that suited him far too well. 

Smoothing your palms down his chest he called your name gently as your mind seemed to trail off for a moment as you looked at the silver. Finding his eyes, he tilted his head in a curious manner. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” 

Truthfully you weren’t sure what. The dream you had the night before you left Riverrun was so far away from your full memory but you kept going back to it trying to find where pieces of that puzzle fit and what it was saying. But as you looked at his eyes, bright and full of an adoration as he looked down to you it was hard to care. 

Shrugging you just ran your palms over his shoulders, “Just admiring you.” 

With a small smile, Robb leaned in to kiss your cheek before whispering close to your ear. “It’s cute how soft you’ve gone for me.” Your eyes raised with a playful protest but he just laughed, pulling you to his side and making his way out to make our way to the others who would be joining in the ceremony. “To all these men, you’re this silent and cold leader always standing harsh and dutifully by her Kings side and then I get you alone, and you’re still just as needy and loving as you were our first night together.” 

Looking down to your feet as you linked your arm around his with a small smile before glancing up to the setting sun of the day on the shining water. “I think I’ve always been that way, it just took you a little longer to notice.” 

For a small moment it was just the two of you, looking over the camp of men that you both found yourself leading and it felt like you were supposed to be here. If not at war, then at least here by Robb’s side. 

The approaching Roose Bolton giving you both a nod, “Your grace.”

Robb reaching his free hand to firmly shake his, “Happy to see you made it through all the rain.” 

“As am I.” Stepping forward, he spoke lowly as to not attract attention of the others around. “If I may, your grace about Lord Karstark, a bold decision to execute the Lord of their House while we are still at war.” Your eyes narrowed at him, something by the flicker of his eyes he certainly noticed. “Bold, but there is little talk of any dissension amongst the remaining lords and if by the buzz in the air is to go by, it was a bold choice that payed off.” 

Roose was always a man pushing for more stern punishment, and while in some way you understood it you also did not agree with what he saw fit as punishment. You found no lie in his eyes as he and Robb looked to the other, and feeling the still relaxed stance of the man next to you? Robb seemed to come to that agreement himself. 

His voice firm, but appreciative. “You’ve always given me good council, my Lord. I haven’t always taken it, but we wouldn’t be where we are standing today if not in part for your skills.” There was a pause in his response as Robb spoke, glancing at you and finding the same truth as you looked at him. 

“It’s always been a pleasure working by your side, but some credit is due to your Queen’s influence as well. I recall saying I looked forward to seeing how you faired in war against your own people and you have not disappointed. Our king is indeed lucky to have you at his side.” 

Catelyn approaching with both Brynden and Edmure in toe, she raised her eyebrows. “Pleasure to see you again, Lord Bolton.” 

The ceremony itself was both familiar in practice but still odd. Certainly as you sat beside Robb you recalled how different your own was. Not shut away in a building with too many rules governing it, but out in the godswood in a quiet ceremony with only spoken words quiet between you, Robb, and whatever the old gods had heard. 

In that quiet, back to the crowd and a life you were not taking with you, you had prayed to them to let you find a real, genuine life and love with your new husband and as he kept his arm around your waist now, your eyes finding the other brightly? The old gods had done more for you then any prayer under the Seven had ever granted. 

As Edmure stood towards the top with the Septon behind him. With lights and fabrics, candles all around and if you recalled far too much talking. The disgruntled look that Edmure was trying so desperately to hide sat still so plainly on his face. You did feel sympathy, his father died and then he was thus dragged to the Twins to marry a girl he’d never seen before and didn’t agree to on his own terms. 

But, it worked for you, so maybe he should try to look a little less grim you thought. 

Walder Frey shambled along the floors with the bride, her face covered by an ivory vale that has Edmure swallowing nervously. The silence was calm and serene to many, but no doubt a curiosity for the man’s own family as what reaction lay in waiting. You saw nothing wrong in the appearances of the Frey Girls presented earlier, but some men were in clearly pickier in appearance then the girls deserved. 

Bringing him up, he gave away her to that of Edmure. The slow reach to uncover the veil and in a smirk forming on both you and Robb, he had found quite the beautiful bride underneath. You and Catelyn shared a raised eyebrow to the other at the boyish grin on her brothers face now, all that complaining and for what? A beautiful bride that had him beaming with joy. 

Robb’s hand pulled you a tad closer, keeping his fingers stretched out to trace lightly over what he could reach of your stomach. Sitting down it was slightly more visible, the growth of your stomach to accomodate the tiny pup inside you. It made you melt at the sight, and it only made Robb more proud each time he saw any difference in it. 

As the Septon spoke, you two only found the other’s eyes. Never did you expect to be here with him, but all you could see was a future you both desperately wanted. Was it a weakness of yours, a wedding with a man you love or was it the baby toying with the fragility of your emotions, but when you felt something choked in your throat, Robb moved so your heads leaned slightly against the other. 

His warmth comforting you as your closeness did for him. 

The reception was more that you felt familiar with. Food and drinks everywhere, and a rowdy crowd that remembered none of the bloodshed outside such walls. With drinks and ale everywhere you and Robb sat together at a table near the front of the lot, being kept luckily on your own for the most part. You smiled at the delight on Edmure’s face face, noting the same kind of looks as Brynden and Catelyn did before the former took off, a nod between you and the Blackfish in your own uniquely bonded amusement. 

It was odd, having a chance to sit in front of this amount of food. For so long now the luxury of a feast was unknown, and not once did neither you or Robb allow your meals to be more exuberant then that of the men fed after. “If my appetite as a boy is to go by, he must be making you ravenous.” 

Both of you sipping at your drinks, Robb having gone from one cup of wine to water thereafter. “It should be, the last time I was in a wedding crowd this big I didn’t eat much either then.” 

Smiling as he leaned back in his seat to look at you, a fondness swirling in his eyes.  “The last time we were at a wedding you were nervous because of what came after, not the crowd itself.” He laughed at how easily flustered you looked as you briefly turned from him. Everything you two had done together and yet all it took to bring out that embarrassment in your cheeks was for him to bring your first night up. 

Had Robb known what was in store for your lives after that night? Well he was grateful he didn’t, if he were to be honest. He cared about you, and being a gentleman the first time he fucked you was difficult enough. No way of knowing how much you of all people could beg and plead for him to use you like a whore, and even now that fact drove him utterly insane.

Pregnancy suited you so well, he thought. This glow women always spoke of didn’t really exist the way they told it, but it did in your eyes. In how much you melted when either you or him had a hand on your stomach, and how easily you two planned for everything after. You both were sure it was a boy, and as he looked you over, Robb couldn’t help but wonder if his father would be proud. 

He’d done things he’s sure he wouldn’t be, but overall? He hoped he would, a wife he adored with a son on the way and aspirations to continue to lead the North with the morals he raised him with. And to be remembered in more then just in their familys crypt, but in the son born of the war raised to rescue that sons grandfather. 

To often he thought of how it wasn’t fair his father couldn’t be here for it. For Robb’s life with you, to see his grandchildren grow up in Winterfell. To not be there to see how much Robb, and you, were honestly fighting for a life for his only remaining brother, one that he deserved. He once told you that he hated that he wasn’t there enough for Jon, and that meant Jon wasn’t here with them now. Wasn’t by his brothers side, by his best friends side too where he belonged, and how Snow or Stark, Robb so passionately wanted to mend that broken bridge. 

He could easily imagine that were Jon in this room now, the man would’ve found an early fill of drink before slinking off to the darkness to find somewhere else to go or a smaller group to spend his night with instead. Or, more accurately if he was being honest with himself, he likely would still sit right beside the two of you now. His brother usually only finding the patience for such feasts when Jon stuck by your side. You were nothing but gentle about how the brothers deserved to be in the other’s life again, but Robb also know it still hurt you to not have him around.

You were better friends then anyone else, and once you two were old enough to be trusted more on your own, either of your spare time was almost always found with the other. Jon never said anything about it, but Robb knew it didn’t just hurt leaving his family behind, he knew leaving his best friend behind hurt just as much. And part of Robb wished you let yourself be honest about it, but you never would. You would never make it about yourself, always ensuring you put them ahead of whatever your own feelings were.

His mother ever insinuating Jon would hurt you or the baby was delusional. You were the mans best friend, the person he was closer with then even any of his siblings. Robb loved his mother, but not the way she refused to give up this hatred of a child that had done nothing to scorn her but exist. She could protest all she wanted, but he would be leaving the North in the only hands who deserved to rule it. 

Glancing to you, he also knew how Jon would’ve made fun of him for how lovestruck Robb knew he was looking at you with. Leaning forward he sat closer to you, “To think in another life it might’ve been me up there.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him with play before nodding up to the happy couple, “What? Being fed blackberries from Roslin Frey’s hands as I sit down here and watch all on my lonesome?” He laughed easily at the idea which only made you narrow your eyes even more playfully. 

“Any man would be lucky to have you, but maybe I should have reconsidered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you feed a wolf like that who wasn’t Grey Wind.” He could see you were moving to playfully shove at him, only he raised his hand far faster and stronger. Moving his face in to sit close enough to yours that his breath could be felt on your skin. Voice hardly a rough whisper with a darker look in his eyes and a wolfish smirk on his lips. “Striking your King is an act of treason.” 

In a surprise to him, you pulled your arm back with his hold still on you to press a short kiss to his lips before smiling against them. “And what is to be my punishment, my strong, handsome King?”

Robb gave you a kiss of his own before letting you go, “You’ll receive it as soon as your king gets you alone and naked in his bed.” Both chuckling as he let his arm drape across the back of your chair and run along your arm. 

Walder Frey up at the house table gaining the rooms attention with a short banging on the tables before shouting with an amusement in his tone. “The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Lord Edmure has wrapped by daughter in a cloak. But they are not yet man and wife. The sword needs a sheath.” 

Robb moved back around your waist as you leaned fully into him to hide your laughter that the other guests so freely gave. Now this was something he didn’t allow you to have, and had no regrets for, but Edmure and Roslin Frey were not you. Walder looked to him, “A wedding needs a bedding, what does my sire say?” 

He looked to you, your eyes raised up briefly with a smirk before Robb looked to Walder Frey with a smirk of his own. “If you think the time is right, Lord Walder, by all means, let us bed them.” 

Cheering and music roared, as did the laughter as men and women alike rounded to the couple. The Frey girls clearly having an exuberant amount of fun as Edmure played along with ease. He was a bit of a trouble, and not the leader that his uncle was, but Robb was happy to see such fun on his face. After losing his father, a feeling he knew all too well, he deserved this. 

Robb stood next to you as all gathered to watch the event, Roose Bolton beside his mother as they spoke no doubt of the very subject. The air in the room finally simmering as the doors closed behind the couple now leaving. The band standing by the sides in the back begun playing a stringed music that gave a new air to the reception. 

Turning to you with a hand freely running across your stomach, you two looked to the other for a moment before Walder Frey’s voice caught his attention. “Your grace,” You gently nudged Robb forward to see Lord Frey where he stood. “I feel I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve given you meat and wine and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve. Afterall, my King is long overdue a wedding gift for he and his Queen.” 

Robb’s back was turned to you, as yours was to the crowd behind you. Doors locked, and the music had stopped, their instruments no longer in their hands but something else. Only if wasn’t either that was what none saw coming. Catelyn yelled Robb’s name, and yet just as he turned it was what greeting him that shocked. 

None noticing until it was too late, having moved to stand behind you, Roose Bolton suddenly grabbed you with one strong arm, and the other reached around, plunging a dagger into your stomach. Once, twice, three times in the same spot each time digging deeper and twisting until it pulled out soaked in blood as it dripped from you. 

Robb barley managing to find the words to say your name, but you paled. Stumbling in place as you looked down and back up to him, your face wasn’t even in pain, only an almost innocent confusion. Robb’s heart shattering in a horror he had not ever felt watching as you looked to him to explain what just happened before the chaos around erupted. 

The musicians having shown their true skill and crossbows brandished, arrows shot out. You collapsing to your knees before trying to grab a knife only to have an arrow shot clean through your upper arm and one to your back.

Robb though, as soon as he moved to you, found the arrows slamming right into him. The chest, and arms, many pricked at him as such force threw him down as the hall was shot all the same. Freys all around brandishing their own knives and moving to murder the men which weren’t picked off. 

The pain meaning nothing to him as Robb’s eyes found you, laying on the ground to the side as you were so pale and covered in red from your wounds drenching you in blood. Trying to move, you looked up to him with a pain trying to reach to him as Robb could barley find his way to you without being hit more. 

Your face drenching in a lifelessness that only intensified the more you bled, and Robb could feel it in himself as his muscles screamed. Managing to crawl his way to you, but his hand found your side he lifted it up to see that same hand utterly soaking in your blood.

Your eyes looking at the other desperately, as he ran his other hand over the side of your face as your breathing came out in pants increasing in hysterics as you tried to hold on for him. The bloodshed and screaming begun to fade only as his own men were taken down. You looked to him, trying to tell him to run but Robb too could see the blood in your mouth making the words choke as tears found both your eyes in an agony that surpassed any wound on either of you. 

Robb trying to find any strength to stand, in a rage at what they had done to his wife, his son and yet you lay there begging for him to go on as if you hadn’t promised to always be together. The words sounded almost far way in his head as Lord Frey spoke.

“The King in the North arises.” Only as he found any strength to stand as if he had any plan beyond the rage in his mind, Catelyn leaped forward with a blade, yanking Walder Frey’s young wife out from her hiding spot, bringing her back up to her chest and holding a knife viciously to her throat.

“Lord Walder, enough. Let it end, please.” Her voice was ragged from a yell he’d never heard from her but Robb looked to you, your body barley able to move as you looked to him like you could find no other thing keeping you alive but him. “He is my son, my first son. Let him go and I swear we will forget this, I swear it by the old gods and the new.” 

No, Robb thought, something fading inside him as he bled out and he could only see how little you had left in you, maybe minutes, more likely seconds. He had stood to fight, but how could he? You were his wife, his Queen, the love of his life you had only ever stood by his side. You fought in battle by his side, and he was supposed to go on without you? Without the son he could see now in your arms in Winterfell? 

His mother pleaded for him to run, to walk out but he found himself unable to. He promised he’d never leave you, you would always be together and what life waited for him without you in it? “On my honour as a Tully, on my honour as Stark, let him go or I will cut your wife’s throat.” 

The callousness of Lord Frey to his wife, as Robb stood barley holding together as his own lay bleeding on the floor and his life shattering before his eyes. “I’ll find another.” 

As if asking her to leave, but without the strength of words, Robb got out a weak, “Mother,” only it meant nothing. The man who plunged a dagger into your stomach came to him and Robb found no fight left. Roose Bolton in front of him with the blood of you and your son still dripping from it found it’s way into Robb’s chest as he spoke one last thing to his king. 

“Jaime Lannister sends his regards.” 

Robb felt himself fall back, quickly he felt the fading he found in you. For seconds, he found the strength to find your eyes as he faded, his fingers trying to reach to yours barley in front of you trying to do the same. In an instant as Robb watched you, you looked at him with a desperate love and agony until they glazed over. 

Looking through him as everything in your body stilled, and no more was there any life left in you. It wasn’t more then a few seconds, did Robb feel the heavy call of his own. 

You were the one true love of Robb Stark’s life, and he found little feeling in his heart but some peace as he watched your lifeless eyes in the last seconds of his own life. He would follow you, and together you would find each other in what lies beyond the veil. 

Somewhere in his fading mind, he heard the desperate cry of his mother before none at all. And then no life was found in the hall. None in Catelyn, none in the lifeless stomach where a son was growing, and none in either the King and Queen in the North. 

In minutes, Robb had lost everything, lost his people, the North, his son, and most painfully of all, had lost you, before he too lost himself. 

Ser Davos Seaworth walked the halls of Dragonstone, even as far as he had come, he could still hear her cries. The Princess was unlike anything he had seen before in her, and it broke his heart all over again as he had not the strength to keep it from her. 

She sat with him often now as he read the ravens sent to King Stannis Baratheon. She would help with the harder words, and he would often smirk telling her she better be a good secret keeper. He had paused reading one particular raven scroll, she looked up with her bright eyes, “Onion Knight?” Oh the sweet girl, the only one who was not himself that called him that in admiration and not jest. “What is it, you’ve been doing so well it can’t be that difficult of a word-” 

Shireen had stood to come to his side, but he held a hand out to stop her. Unable to keep the shocking horror at bay that sat over his face. He hadn’t waited to let her mother or father tell her. He knew it was not his place, but the way she fell into his arms like Davos was in fact her father, brought the tears to his own. 

Walking to Stannis now, the last time he had seen you was on his mind. You looked right at the Stark’s side, like you had become the wolf you married and now none of it mattered. Finding Stannis standing at the edge of the room of the painted table, his hands perched on the edge of the stone wall over the sea as it stormed outside like the gods were crying for you too. 

In the room was her, the red woman. His eyes trying not to find her but she in a surprise to him, looked as if she too did not grasp what had happened. Stannis’s voice was full of pain and anger, not obvious to many from his tone, but Davos knew him well enough to see the turmoil now haunting the King. “You told me, she would come to my side. You told me my daughter would come to me, the Stark boy too. You saw it.” 

Davos had no sympathy for the words she spoke that day, just a taunt of a life now that you and your husband would never have. Even worse, your death was the first time any on Dragonstone had heard you were with child, a son. For all the words and war raged around Robb Stark being a usurper, there now was a darkness over the already dim island that was felt by all. 

Selyse had went to Shireen. She would find no comfort in her husband, but Davos found some in that he had left mother and daughter to cry together. He knew what losing a child felt like all to freshly. It wasn’t anything any parent deserved to feel, and as the little princesses cries sounded still in Davos’s head, he hoped the King would find reason this time. He would make him. 

He told him to accept Robb Stark’s terms, and he would find an ally in the North but his King had not been in the right mind to accept it. He hoped now, that Stannis understood what could have never happened. 

“My King-” 

“No.” Stannis barley turning his body to look at her before finding the sea once more. “She was my daughter. She didn’t deserve this, any of this. I raised her to do her duty and she found that duty in standing by her husbands side and I let that get her killed. My grandchild killed. Where is the answer in your god’s flames now?” 

Still, she insisted. “The Lord of Light still shows me the same, her and her wolf both-” 

“Her and her wolf are dead.” 

Davos took charge by making himself known. “Your grace, there is a raven you should see. It’s....I think is is urgent you read it. It comes from Castle Black. The Night’s Watch pleads for help.” 

Jon had dreamt of nothing but that sight, and he didn’t understand what he was watching until he finally woke from the delirious sleep being shot with arrows put him in. He had seen you on the ground, your stomach soaking in blood until there was nothing left in your eyes, but it never let him see more, never gave him an answer. Until he woke, and Sam came to him with news.

Standing by the window Jon could hardly tell what on earth he was feeling. For so long his life had been a fight against him to realize that the true threat lay beyond what the Night’s Watch and Free Folk spent their years killing each other over. That something else was coming, and neither side of the Wall took it seriously, neither side was willing to put things aside to fight it. 

But then he woke, and Sam told him of you, of Robb. Wincing through the pain as he put his undershirt on, Jon looked distantly out the window to nothing but his own memories of his brother. “I was jealous of Robb my whole life. The way my father looked at him, I wanted that.” Putting his final leathers on top he could almost smile seeing the boys they one were. “He was better then me at everything. Fighting, and hunting, and riding and girls. Gods the girls loved him..eventually even my girl.” 

Sam knew, he had been told of you probably with more honesty then Jon had ever spoken of you in his entire life. He was allowed to be honest, and of how painful it was to know you finally found a life and love in the brother who already had everything Jon wanted. 

“I wanted to hate him, but I never could.” 

It wasn’t a nightmare in his dreams, it was you. The last he would ever see or know of you, as the haunting vision of you laying on the ground bleeding out with a horror in your eyes that Jon couldn’t protect you from. He couldn’t protect you from any of it, and he was angry for ever being foolish enough to pretend as if Ygritte was anything like you. 

You never forced Jon into anything, only ever showing a love and support that only he found in your eyes no matter what he did or said. Jon had you laid out bare for him on his own bed, and the second he hesitated, you assured him with soft and gentle words, asking if he was alright. 

Only minutes later, before he was even fully undressed, it was your turn to hesitate, but even in your panic, worrying you had ruined things, you still looked back up at him. Assuring him it wasn’t his fault you weren’t ready. The moment he told you he wasn’t sure he was either, you told him that if he’s willing to wait for you, you wanted to wait for him. Instead he gave himself to her, because it was that or death and he managed to trick himself into thinking it was love.

But a love for her didn’t feel like it did losing you. His family gone, his brother, his closest companion was gone without ever knowing how much Jon wished to fight by his side. And he had lost the only woman he ever loved, ever wanted to love. 

He had lied to himself enough. The only space in his heart before, now and forever will be for you. Even if his last memory of you was a vision soaked in blood hundreds of miles out of his protection. 

Sam asked him quietly if he was okay. “No. I’m not okay.”

Jon knew there was a bigger war to fight now, and he was forced to do it without the people in his life that meant the most to him. For a second, Jon could see your stomach not in blood, but pregnant and he shook the thoughts away from him. He couldn’t think of you pregnant, and dying so viciously as you lost it, Robb, and you all together. 

He knew you had seen something, these visions in his head showing you and only once did those visions coincide as you saw each other. And it was that which made Jon push it down. Only an anger left simmering in him, the thought that you died, thinking Jon no longer loved you. 

Jon knew he would never be okay ever again. 

You had wrote to Jon all about the fight you got into with him for that one, how you had been lectured heavily by your father despite the fact that the most hurt he got was being knocked into the mud after a bit of a scuffle. Jon had gotten you harder far more times just training you in the basics. You had hoped he wouldn’t have changed his mind, wouldn’t think you were stupid like your cousin did. You hoped with a childish intent that he may have thought about you like you were him.  

But he was already sixteen and no doubt had found far more girls his age, and far prettier ones at that to fawn all over him. You hadn’t even bloomed yet, according to your handmaidens no boys his age wanted to be with a silly girl who wasn’t even a woman yet. It was a strange feeling, and you had no one to talk to about it, you wished your baby sister had been born years earlier so she could at least read and write to you about it.

But you hadn’t gotten to fester in such a new, and first time crush for long. It was the middle of the year when your father told you. He said that at your age, you should expect to have your womanly blooding come to you soon and it was important you do not share that with people. He was strict when he sat you down in his office, telling you without room for question, “Do not come to anyone except for me. Not your uncles, not the guards, not your handmaidens. You tell me and keep it to yourself otherwise.” 

He hadn’t said why, nothing about when your mother explained the process to you made it sound like a dirty secret. She said all women go through it, why was it to be kept hush you didn’t know, but you knew you were to listen. He wasn’t a man with much will to bend the rules, your father. So the day you woke up having bled through the night, you intended to keep that rule. 

Leaping out of bed at the shock before you remembered what it was, you wrapped a thin overcoat around you to cover the bleeding nightshift, bending under your bed to grab a blanket you knew was kept there to hide the sheets before anyone came in. Only when you unravelled the blanket, one of the older handmaidens had walked in. “Oh gods be good, congratulations child.” 

You narrowed your eyes but she walked right past you and stripped the sheets from the bed as you stood in frustrated protest. Glancing up to you she looked at your attire, “Get dressed child, you cannot visit the Queen like that.” 

Your eyebrows raised and face twisted in confusion, “Visit- why?” 

There was barley a chance to speak before she was shoving you to the other side of the room to get dressed. You had been the only girl the Queen could try to dote on for a while, previous she hadn’t had Myrcella yet and even now she was only two years old. Trying very hard to whip you into shape as a proper highborn lady of the court and always finding ways to make it so.

Unbeknownst to you, she had informed your handmaidens that when you bled for the first time, they were to send you to her. Using the guise of your mother not being here, so she would be the only to steer you into womanhood. 

As you walked into her quarters, you could see little Myrcella on the bed. Her blonde hair grew long and quick as her mothers, done up at that moment into pretty ringlets on the side of her head as she played with an array of toys spayed out in front of her. The Queen herself looking far more immaculate then you ever could hope to be, but there was a kindness on her face that at the time, you didn’t have quite the right level of skill to sniff out if there was a degree of falsity in it. 

Strangely enough, in those days, the kindness was genuine. Just not the agenda that came after. 

Sitting you down at the chair across from her writing desk, she offered you some water. “The first can always be a bit difficult, if there’s a lot sometimes you may even feel a bit woozy.”

You shrugged a shoulder as you glanced between your glass and the Queen, “It wasn’t that. Just more...” as you trailed off she tilted her head in question before you finished. “I didn’t think it would be painful.” 

The Queen was sympathetic, but the smile on her face was one of much greater knowledge. “Wait until you birth a child.” You could recall when your mother gave birth to Shireen, the only sounds heard in the entire castle were her yells and cries and yet when it was over she castle was still so quiet all could be heard was Shireen after. 

Coming up to her bedside, she ran her hand over Myrcella’s hair with a smile of love that was rare. “She was a little easier, but Joffery was a whole new kind of pain.” Your brows narrowed as she so easily fussed with nothing in particular on her daughter who let it happen. “I laboured a day and a half just bringing him into the world, sometimes I screamed so loud I thought Robert would hear me even in the  Kingswood.” 

Taken back, you looked at her in question. “He was hunting?” 

That fondness on her lips faded away into something less comforting, making her way over to you at the desk and sitting in the seat next to you. “Robert prefers to leave the birthing to me, and he takes his men out to hunt and kill and only returns when the labouring is all over. Like a trade of commoners, he gifts me pelts and trophies, and he in return is gifted a baby.” You felt an odd discomfort in your stomach, you would never describe your own parents as even remotely in love but not once did your father flee while Shireen was being born. “Not that I wanted him there, I had an army of midwives, Grand Maester Pycelle, and I had my brother. The midwives tired to tell him he couldn’t be in the birthing room, and he just smiled. Asking which one of them proposed to keep him out.” 

A fondness in her eye trailed off as she looked at you, a more cold and stoic expression that was becoming more common on you here then the days you first arrived. “Your husband will show you no such devotion.” 

Looking up at her, there was an innocent heartbreak in your eye that while she did not speak of it, she understood the life in the making. Cersei was a woman who loved her children with the only goodness in her heart that she had, and yet she knew you rarely got anything from your own parents. Not having met your mother but she could only imagine the kind of woman that marries Stannis Baratheon isn’t as much warmer. 

You said nothing, biting down on your tongue as you looked away. “You will not be a Queen, my dove, but you are still a highborn lady and that means we are raised to have a very specific place and purpose in the world. Your red flower means that you have become of age that you can take up that mantle, marry a high lord and your new duty is to have his children for however long he has use of you.” 

Your father didn’t even live on the same Island as his wife now, and she hadn’t been healthy enough to give him a living son in the years between your birth and now that Shireen was born. Was that all marriage was to them? Was that all it would be to the King and Queen once the woman in front of you stopped being able to have his children? 

“You will marry a high lord, find yourself dragged to a new home you know nothing of and have his children because that is what ladies like us are to do. You don’t have to like it, but that is why they need us.” 

Finding your voice, you spoke up with indignation. “Pardon me your grace, but you make it sound like it’s foolish to even consider trying to find a husband that would make me happy.” 

A flash of something in her eyes passed once more. Leaning forward to brush a wild strand of hair from the front of your face. Impossible to recall now, but still a young girl, there had been a time when the Queen still had a place in her heart for you. Her tone was quiet, as if to hide form her daughter who couldn’t possibly understand her at that age. “I know you’re smart enough to see me and Robert for what things are. I tried to love him, and for a while I think I even did. I wanted it to work so badly in the early years, but it never came to be. We never shared a moment, an inkling or even any real softness that I dreamed of.” Your name came softly from her lips, “Women like us do not get to have such things.” 

Sitting there, your hands rung together in your lap as your jaw clenched. An unfairly charming smile and long black curls that flashed through your recently blooming mind. Were you just stupid children that would never last? Would you see him again one day and he’s turned as cold and uncaring as the Baratheon men you were raised around were? Why did that hurt so badly? 

“The more people we love, the weaker we are. We’ll do things for them we know we shouldn’t, play the fool to make them laugh, lie to keep them safe.” You tried hard to not think about how you lied to your father about where you got all those cuts and bruises, worrying that he would be mad if you told him the truth. 

That Jon had started to teach you because you both just wanted to do it, wanted to spend time together. He wanted to teach you, and you wanted to learn but perhaps your father wouldn’t be as forgiving to such actions as Ned Stark was when he finally caught you. So you lied, wanting to keep him safe. 

“You will be wed off, have your husbands children, but you should love no more then them. We have no choice but to love our children and that way the men in your life will never be able to hurt you. Not in here.” Her hand gently resting over your heart, like she had already seen a future for you that you were not privvy too. 

It was that night that your father called you into his office, telling you, “Pack your things now, come dawn I’m putting you on the first ship to White Harbour, and from there you’re to stay with Lord Stark in Winterfell.” 

You stammered, the idea wasn’t horrid but it was out of nowhere with no explanation. “How long am I to stay?” 

“Indefinitely. I’ve send a raven to Lord Stark and he’s been informed that you are to remain in his care until further notice.” 

Further notice, was two years at it turned out. Two years of spending time with the Starks, the new younger growing litter of Stark children, and finding yourself increasingly flustered by how much more mature that dark and curly haired boy had grown, filled out, and had a much deeper rasp of a voice then when you saw him before. 

It was just over half a year before you returned to Kings Landing when he kissed you. He was taller, and much more mature by that point at eighteen, and your nearing sixteenth name day heart wasn’t sure it understood the tension between you until that night. 

A game of hunting and hiding in the woods with all four of the eldest of you, it was late into the night and rain had been pouring down when he snuck up and dragged your back into his chest. Still playing the same and ignoring the strange beating in your heart you tried dashing off still, but Jon was strong and tossed your back against a tree. 

You had no idea what he was doing until Jon had already begun to kiss you. All memories of Cersei telling you that your husband would never be a man who loved you left you that night, because even as a teenager, you knew that Jon kissed you like he already did. 

But you were not two people who would become like your parents, or the King and Queen. No, you were just two best friends who spent from that day until departing on the Kingsroad in a love that you were never allowed to have. The world wanted you to be like them, and they married you off without the care of what came with it. 

Your father didn’t care if you had a loveless marriage, because being in one was not part of your duty. 

But as you walked through the ruins of Harrenhal the morning before now, it seemed like the moral of the men was only raised by such an announcement that stemmed from love. Word travelled fast that you were with child, and you couldn’t escape the words of congratulations and brimming air amongst the men with a “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, knowing how much our King keeps you locked away all to himself at night.” 

The Greatjon was loud, but none of the following laughs were at you. All was a laugh with you, that it may not be a fight, but that the men found some ease of mind in the clearly good news. 

Even as you departed, leaving Roose Bolton and his men to hold Harrenhal, there was a genuine feeling in his tone as you shook hands to depart. “I dare say, your grace but being with child suits you.” He chuckled when you raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s been a number of months since we’ve seen the King calm in anyway, and longer since you’ve actually smiled.” 

Giving a small one at that moment, he then pointed to Grey Wind not far from you. “I think that one knew before even you did. Quite possessive wolves are known to be.”

Your husband would show you no such devotion the Queen had said, and yet the sheer amount of time Robb spent keeping you by his side with a hand somewhere on your person or stomach told you that if this wasn’t love and devotion what would that actually be like in the real world? 

For Catelyn though, it was a struggle. It seemed like most of the major developments in your life with her son were in times of grief. Bran laying in bed unconscious after falling from a tower? You and Robb marry. Her husband is beheaded? The North declares Robb their king and you his Queen. And now, rumours that her youngest sons were dead and that her own father had passed away? You and Robb announce you are pregnant. You knew she wanted to be happy for a grandchild, but so much of it was written in blood. 

A blood that seemed to be felt through more then just her, except that the other children’s blood that was spilled now allowed itself to fester and taint with dissent. Lord Karstark was becoming an increasing problem. Agitated, bloodthirsty and unwilling to temper his tongue even as he walked beside you and Robb. “We’re at war. This march is a distraction.” 

Robb’s voice was cut with an edge as he didn’t spare the man even a glance. “My grandfather’s funeral is not a distraction.” 

“Are we riding to battle at Riverrun?” At a no, he titled his head. “Then it’s a distraction.” 

You could feel the anger growing in Robb, but he kept his cool as he was so skilled at now. “My Uncle Edmure has his forces garrisoned there. We need his men.” 

Gods he had no idea when to stop, throwing both of you onto an edge that was bordering on insubordination. “Unless he’s been breeding them, he don’t have enough to make a difference.” 

Robb stopped, forcing the man to look at him with a harshness in his face. “Have you lost faith in our cause?” Lord Karstark trying to argue he has faith in revenge, Robb narrowed his eyes. “If you no longer believe-” 

Karstark raising his voice, you stepped forward to stand closer at Robb’s side with a tensity that he seemed to sense right away. “I can believe until it snows in Dorne, don’t change the fact that-” 

Your voice came out more angry then you expected. Taking the man right off guard as he looked more wide eyed to your rageful ones. “Lord Karstark, I think your King has made it clear that you are stepping out of line. Out in the open is neither the time nor place for your ire, and it is not welcome either way.” 

A hand came to rest on the small of your back as you continued. Your voice stern and face unblinking as you did so. “You may be free to see the funeral of your king’s own grandfather as a distraction, but you are not with the freedom to insult the man you’ve sworn your sword too.” Opening his mouth to speak, but he wisely chose to close it once more, noting the judgmental eyes of some now looking at him get reprimanded like a child. 

“Your grace-” 

“Where should we take the fight to, my lord?” You couldn’t see, but it took quite a bit of restraint for Robb to not smirk at how flabbergasted Lord Karstark looked. “You want a fight, tell us then, where and how should we take the fight to satisfy your bloodlust? How long after that battle do we spend waiting for you to get impatient for another? War is not battles and blood, it’s about knowing when not to fight and to stand and wait as your told.” 

You felt an anger inside of you that felt like is was bordering on unhealthy, but the sheer hubris to stand in front of his King and tell him so uncritically what he thinks is a mistake would not be allowed. Robb was more then capable of handling Lord Karstark alone, but what kind of wife, a Queen were you to stand there and allow it to happen? 

“I believe you had duties to attend to, my lord.” 

Robb’s tone was firm, and nothing short of a command to leave. Both if your eyes watching take off as you glanced to each other before he pulled you around more to face him. “He’s only going to get worse, and I’m going to have to handle it when it does.” 

Finding his eyes you could see the conflict of what was running through his head. Lord Karstark was going to rant and rave until he explodes and Robb isn’t going to shy away from serving justice that is deserved. “He’s forgetting it’s not a lord he’s speaking too, I think.”

Robb ran his hand around your waist, stretching is thumb to run at what he could reach of your stomach. “And I think if we couldn’t win this war, the Lannisters wouldn’t be trying so hard to run and hide from us. Lord Karstark thinks wars are only won if we find a fight everywhere we go, and yet I can’t even get close to meeting Tywin Lannister on the field of battle.” 

You smirked, “Which says a whole lot more about your skill then it does his, if you ask me.” 

Looking to the others eyes for a moment before Robb huffed, looking out to the camp before leaning back into press a kiss to the side of your head. “Do me a favour, and take it easy for now.” You tilted your head ready to protest but he had the charming audacity to kiss you before you could speak. “That was an order, my Queen.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you gave a tiny curtsy which pulled a loving smirk from his lips. “As your grace commands.” 

It was resting that you had found yourself approaching Catelyn. The look in her eye as she turned her head to see you, the conflict in them was tragic. Flickering to your stomach before turning back to the task at hand, only to drop it with a regretful sigh onto her lap. Your name coming calmly off her tongue, “I should apologize. I’ve barley said a word to you since Robb told me.” 

You calmly walked around where she was sat at, finding your own space on a mostly flat rock to face both partially at her, partially to the camp around you. “I didn’t come here to ask for that, I came here because you’re in pain and it hurts to see you in so much of it.” Shaking your head, you bit your tongue before sighing. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this since...”

Since the first time you came across her like this, now only a second child was added to the grief. Sitting the woodwork in her lap, she ran her fingers across part of it as the waver in her voice fought to stay down. “Rickon was so upset when I left. He was too young, his father and sisters left and then me and then suddenly it was only him and Bran alone without us. I don’t even know if Luwin ever told him why we had all gone either. And Bran-”

“He understood.” Her eyes were wide as they darted up to yours. Finding a fading memory back when this all was so much more simple. “When Robb and I left, he understood. He was worried, trying not to be scared in front of Robb. But not mad. Not upset. He knew you were all gone fighting for each other.” 

Whatever solace she found in that gave her enough to swallow the pain. A tiny smile that didn’t reach her eyes Catelyn once more traced over the working. “Part of me wonders if I should be used to making these by now. If I did one for Bran and Rickon each, I might just be good enough to do it with my eyes closed.” 

You leaned forward, pressing your forearms across your knees as you thought to Bran in that bed, how devastated she looked at his side and now all this time later the gods saw fit to test her resolve again. 

Gazing over the details, you missed that Catelyn was glancing at your stomach. So far no major signs of change, but it wouldn’t take long for you to show she knew. “I made one once even before Bran’s fall.” 

Looking up to her with a question in your eyes, you could see something not quite the same as the grief of now and then, but something a bit more conflicting that sat heavily inside her. “It was many years before that. One of the boys came down with the pox.” 

A weight in your chest fell. You had told her of the nights none knew if Shireen would even make it, she was a baby when she caught the Greyscale and your mother was terrified it’d kill her before it had even a chance to spread. You knew too well what a mothers fear of her child with such afflictions. 

“Maester Luwin said if he made it through the night, he’d live. But it would be a very long night.” Lost in the hazes of a memory as if she was looking down to one of the boys right before you as she relived the fear in her throat. “I sat him with, all through the darkness. Listened to his ragged little breaths, his coughing, his whimpering.” 

Not knowing this at all, it must have been far earlier then you’d ever stepped foot in her home. “Which one was it?” 

Catelyn paused. Looking at you before peeling away to look beyond with a burning bright blaze of shame waving off of her very person before she spoke. The words low and struggling to find the same emotions as before. “Jon Snow.”

A coldness flooded your veins, and your eyes gave it away without hesitation. Catelyn, it seemed, found no strength in the moment to look you in the eye anymore as a tear in her voice only served to rip away at your chest until she found your heart and plunged the blade right through. 

“When Ned brought that baby home from the war, I couldn’t bear to look at him. I didn’t want to see those grey stranger’s eyes staring up at me. So I prayed to the gods, take him away. Make him die.”

You didn’t look at her back, you felt bile rise in your throat and plummet back down to your stomach at the words. Searching so far back to your mind, only finding the ten year old that you met on your first day in the North, one that was as curious of you as he was healthy. And yet...

“He got the pox. And I knew then, I was the worst women who ever lived. A murderer. I condemned this poor, innocent child to a horrible death, all beacuse I was jealous of his mother. A woman he didn’t even know.” 

Her conflict didn’t match yours. Hers was with guilt, yours was in a horror that made you feel as ill as you had that first day you arrived, the kind of horrible twisting poison that sent you fainting to the stone floor of their home. Only you had nothing to see then, now, you only saw the face of the one you watched disappear for what neither of you knew would be forever. 

“So I prayed to all seven gods, let the boy live. Let him live and I’ll love him. I’ll be a mother to him. I’ll beg my husband to make him a Stark and be done with it, to make him one of us.” 

“And he lived.” It was a shock any sound came from you at all, you watched nothing but a woman who treated him as a stain on her own family, the pain that caused him to see himself with a self loathing for his own existence. A denial of any love that caused him to think the only life he’d find was shut away at the Wall until his death. 

“And he lived. And I couldn’t keep my promise, and everything that’s happened since then. All this horror that’s come to my family, it’s all because I couldn’t love a motherless child.” 

Comfort her was the tiny whisper of reason, she deserves to hear something from you but as you felt your hands shake in their still hold, you could only see him. You could only see Jon in the ice and snow instead of having a place at his families side. Instead of being able to stand next to his brother right now with the same respect that everyone have Robb. 

Instead you could see him out in the cold, dressed not in black, and with those that did not look to be any Night’s Watchmen you’d ever seen look like. He didn’t even look as you last saw, hair longer and more wild, older and stronger looking with just as much conflict as you’d watched him be forced to feel living with the very woman next to you. 

In an instant though, that image flashed to something else, flashing to a bright red hair, a pretty face and a look on her that you knew from your love with him in secret only out in the open. Something that was free, and pretty, and wasn’t a burden to him the way your position always was. 

You felt sick. You couldn’t sit here and see this, you didn’t understand what your eyes were even showing you nor did you hear Catelyns concerned call of your name multiple times before you stood up. What you were seeing in flashes made no sense until they all came to something that you and him never had together. Something that you’ve had since him, but were never allowed to truly have with Jon but with this pretty hair of red.

Were you walking through the camp or alone in the woods you wouldn’t even have known at that point but this wasn’t like the dreams that came to you in the dead of night these were as real as the green around you. In a second that moment, that intimacy that made you want to cry was back to elsewhere with him. 

Somewhere high made of ice, looking beyond the sights and just as a kiss was to taunt your vision it was like you both looked at each other. You saw him as clear as anything, and it was like he saw you to, sending him back in a shock before it all disappeared in a flurry. 

Your heart raced as you stood near the edge of the camp before finding a small pool of water. Kneeling in front of you as you ran the liquid over your face and tried to wash away the sights of what just happened behind your eyes and the loud booming words Catelyn just spoke to you of. 

Two hands grasped you, sending you flipping around in an erratic startle only to find the soft blue eyes of Robb as he gently grasped the sides of your face. Him muttering your name pulling you close as your hands hovered above his chest. “Hey, hey, what happened?” 

Your mouth parted and eyes wide but you had not a single clue what just happened to you, and you had not even the words to begin explaining it. You just shook your head as you finally reached up to hold his face as he did yours. This you knew, this sight you recognized and the warm soothing nature of his voice, comforting touch and a face you’d seen every single day for two years that looked at you with the love you gave him. 

Robb tried getting something from you, but your mind raced and spun and needed to be reminded where you were. Ground you in your life. Leaning up you pressed your lips against Robb’s and a calm washed back over your body. Simmering your nerves and veins as it all settled into the pit of your stomach before finding a home in the life you and Robb were creating together. 

This was real, and you had to keep it that way. Not whatever images and nightmares and dreams were being thrown at you for so long now, you didn’t understand what they were and as Robb’s kiss was soft and coaxing, he pulled back to run his thumbs over your cheeks. “Tell me we’ll love him, our son, tell me that we’ll both be here to love him.”

Robb narrowed his eyes before something dawned on him instead, “Him? You think it’s a boy?” His hand running flat over your stomach and it finally pulled a calmer breathe of a laugh from you. He took one of the news, and was steering you to whatever could calm you down easier. 

One shoulder shrugging you found the back of his neck to wrap your hands around. “Mormont says it’s why I’m so erratic lately. That it could only be the influence of a hot tempered Stark man doing that to my insides.” 

Robb looked at you, and not that he would tell you in this state, but he had a chat with his mother later on about what on earth she had said to you. Little could she suspect what that would spiral towards. 

In this moment though, Robb pulled you up to rest your face gently in his neck. “We will love him, together. It’s not just you and me now.” He massaged the your stomach in such a soothing manner, voice low only for your ears. “It’s us. All three of us, now and always.” 

You two stayed there for a little while, him calming down whatever had just happened to you. That was until Greatjon found you. His loud, booming voice, causing laughter from both you and Robb, as well as the small group of other Umbers passing with him. 

“Now that’s our King. Ready to give the lass a whole litter of pups before she’s even had the first one.” 

Coming into Riverrun was likely the most North you had been since this war had begun. It was also the calmest place it felt, the river behind the castle was calm and felt untouched by the wars ravaging around all. The castle stood mighty, looking unlike most of the places you had been in years. The fields and ruins, or surrounded by small structures to serve as battlements in your more early campaigns. 

It felt much like what the traditional castles sounded like in Shireen’s books. Tall but reasonable, not build heavy for a warmth like Winterfell, or immaculate and impressive that was the Red Keep and certainly a far from Dragonstone. 

Riding next to Robb, you glanced at him with a curious gaze. The man in question catching you looking away with a small smile. “What is it?” 

Shrugging as you looked him over, “It’s just hard to imagine you here, back then I mean. It feels like the longer I know you the more like a Stark you become.” Many of Catelyn’s children took attributes of her family strongly then that of her husband. For a long time, only two of the Stark children didn’t look anything like her, one for obvious reasons, but as you stood by Robb’s side you saw so much more of his father in him.

Perched tall on his horse, his hair lush and the diminishing light as summer had ended last year turned the colour to a darker brown then it’s highlights of red. Facial hair on him just as dark and well groomed but sat thick in a way you know your mother would’ve disapproved of for you. Eyes were bright reflecting off the water but they were full of a heavy responsibility that had you yearn to look at them even more. Perhaps this was just what pregnancy did, but lately it was like Robb was trying to look particularly handsome to drive you crazy. 

Only realizing when he raised an eyebrow did you realize he said anything, shaking your head with a naive, “Sorry, what was that?” 

He rolled his eyes with a smirk, “So, I listen to you but all you do is look at me like a piece of meat.” His grin at your playfully offended face spoke volumes of cheek. “I said I was only born here, I don’t even have any memories of growing up outside of Winterfell. From what I’ve heard about Dragonstone, you certainly don’t look like you grew up there.” 

Maester Cressen used to say it was no place to raise a child, and in ways he was right. Built by Valyrians said to have done so using arcane blood magic, it was a sharp contrast to much of the kingdoms of Westeros. It was easy to envision Aegon and his sisters riding their dragons to plot out the conquer of a land that didn’t belong to them from the seats of volcanic rock that made the air smell of salt and brimstone. You certainly did not fit the image of belonging there. 

“I don’t think anyone wants to grow up there. It’s dim and depressing and I’m fairly certain if I showed you my childhood room, you’d ask me why my father raised me in a dungeon cell.” You both chuckled lightly. The early days in your first visit to Winterfell, once you were back on two feet you had found yourself riding all through that of the wolfswood with he and Jon, you always surprised how far the North seemed to go unencumbered by dangerous terrain. 

As the castle drew near, the only ones of your army that remained with you was that of Robb, Catelyn, and Brynden. The other lords would be given their stay once the family departed to the lake for the funeral. Edmure Tully awaited the arrival, causing a brief moment of looks shared between three of you in pause. 

None of you had discussed it, but you all had come to the same conclusion as to what had happened, but that would be a situation for later. You could feel an annoyance inside that had you shaking your head to rid of. Where would this war be right now, had the instructions been followed as specifically directed. 

Edmure greeting his sister in a quiet embrace, noting only two of them were here. 

Lysa Arryn had been a headache. She closed off access from the rest of the kingdoms, keeping the Knights of the Vale rooted and untouched. No amount of bargaining from Robb had done any good and Brynden has discussed that many men within the Vale armies would side with him were it not for being under the control of Lysa. And now it seems, she didn’t bring herself back to the world of the sane to attend her fathers funeral, or let her son that of his grandfather. 

Much of the funeral was quiet. In what you think was unique to the Tully’s instead of taking place spread out an a sept to be cremated or embalmed, the oils and stones were placed onto Hoster Tully before his body was spread out respectfully in a small boat, and doused in gentle oils. 

A brazier was lit on the dock over the water as it drifted off. On the docks stood by the brazier was Brynden, near the back was Catelyn, then Robb and yourself. Watching from their own spots were a various number of people all there to see their lord off. 

In the middle, Edmure held a bow. Hoster Tully’s only son, and heir to Riverrun it left him both as proper lord and the charge to light the boat to send him off in peace. The first time he missed, you glanced up to the sky. There was a slight breeze that he was aiming just off enough to steer the arrow as a miss. 

The second time he did missed, you narrowed your eyes as it continued to drift further away without his work. Everyone stood in silence as he paused, taking a third shot and you know this might have been the worst time for it, but there was a slight awkwardness about the situation that had you and Robb, like you were two teenagers again, glance at one another with a smirk trying desperately to hide itself and failing. 

Three times of misses and eventually the boat carrying Hoster off would reach too far and there was just a second of childishness between the pair of you that had you both looking down at the side sight of Catelyn’s firm gaze. You both grabbed the others wrist, as he almost unnoticeable pulled you just a bit closer to his side. 

Brynden had to take over. Grabbing the bow from his nephew and looking up to gauge the winds, and with one simple shot, the lit arrow plunged into the boat and the fire spread out in an instant. A calm relief over the family as they watched until it was no longer within their sights. 

For a brief moment, looking at that of boats and fire, you wondered how close he came. How close of a call to a much more hellfire version of this image did your father come to at the Blackwater Bay. Who you unnervingly thought, were the ones who didn’t make it and you had no knowledge of? Was it just your father that survived and the rest of the men you’d seen over and over again as a child were gone?

The words had mentioned that of green flames and wildfire. As the ceremony ended, you hadn’t even realized how you had reached across your chest to hold at your other arm, and noticed even less that your nails had dug into the skin enough to begin to bleed. 

A crowd had gathered in the main hall, some of your men as well as that of the River Lords, on your way in Brynden had noticed your arm. Beckoning you over to the side as Robb glanced down with narrowed eyes. He said nothing, but kept an eye on you sat up on a small table as Brynden carefully wrapped up your arm. 

You hadn’t looked up to the processions a single time as they all spoke, keeping a harsh eye on the trickles of bleed soaking through the wrappings. You hadn’t at all noticed how hard you were digging them in to that degree. Edmure standing near the middle, spoke of his actions in the recent move against the Lannisters. 

The smallfolk were grateful, and in front of the majority, Robb allowed him the moment in the sun to explain his actions with a patiently controlled stare. “He crossed the river to give battle and we routed him. Maybe four hundred Lannisters killed, another hundred taken prisoner. The Mountain was lucky to escape with his life. They’ll think twice before picking another fight with the Tully’s.” 

Brynden could see how much your jaw clenched trying to keep something burning inside of you. It wasn’t just a plan for Robb, it was a strategic manoeuvre to trick Tywin’s forces that Edmure had overstepped on. Did Robb say something? It was hard to tell but judging by the slight knowing smirk on Bryndens face as he tied off your wrappings, it was not a message Edmure was receiving. 

“I will not stop until they have their justice. This I swear to you.” Glancing over briefly, Robb’s eyes landed on you before turning to the crowd. “I need to speak with my family.” 

The gruff man nodding you over, giving you a light hand getting your two feet off the table as Robb outstretched an arm, bringing you over to his side. His own gaze reaching up to your arm, running over the bandage with his thumb and looking to you with a silent narrowed expression. You gave a tiny shake of his head, that clearly he wasn’t going to just accept as your shrugging answer. 

The hall empty save for those Tully and Stark, Edmure begun to step forward to speak. “If I may nephew, I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the Stone Mill, which may have some bearing-” 

As your jaw clenched, and Robb reached down to gentle run his hand across your stomach it was Brynden who spoke up. His voice frustrated and exasperated as you felt. “Why don’t you shut your mouth about that damned mill. And don’t call him nephew, he’s your King.” 

Edmure looking more casual then the tension radiating inside the room like he couldn’t feel it in the air, “Robb knows I meant him no disrespect-”

“You’re lucky I’m not your king I wouldn’t let you wave your blunders around like a victory flag.” 

Robb was seeking your eye that was trained pointedly on his chest as he could feel you boiling up before him. Edmure did not make your frustration any easier, and the complete lack of comprehension only made Robb more angry and spiteful. But he kept it together, especially since you were the one right now having trouble with it, he took up that mantle. 

“My blunder sent Tywin Lannister’s mad dog scurrying back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs.” Your eyes flew up, meeting Robb’s as he ran his thumb over your stomach firmer with a warning in his expression to calm your nerves. Brynden could see the words ready to spill from Robb’s mouth at any moment the longer Edmure spoke. “I think King Robb understands we’re not going to win this war if he’s the only one winning any battles. No, there’s glory enough to go around.” 

“It’s not about glory.” Robb’s voice was not quite a shout, but it was loud and lecturing and caught Edmure off guard. As Robb moved to step forward he let his hand slid to the small of your back, gently keeping you within his touch as he narrowed his eyes at the man. “Your instructions were to wait for him to come to you.” 

“I seized an opportunity.” 

He was quiet and calm, and you were thankful he was better at this then you right now. Perhaps he was the only thing keeping you in your head. “What value was the mill?” Edmure explaining that it was the Mountain garrisoned across from it. “Is he there now?” 

The man still hadn’t gotten it. All three of you in the room understood except so far, for Edmure who almost went back to being proud of his last minute scheme. “Of course not. We took the fight to him, he could not withstand us.”

Robb almost hissed at him as he narrowed his eyes at his uncle. The blue a much darker as his touch on your was firmer. You beside him with eyes sharp and cutting into him with something silent that was just as unnerving. “I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west, into our country where we could surround him and kill him. I wanted him to chase us, which he would have done because he is a mad dog without a strategic thought in his head. I could have that head on a spike by now.” 

He seemed to pull you closer as he had stepped closer, as you gently grasped onto the arm your body was partially turned to face. Robb’s tone was like whisper but the distant look in Edmure’s eyes told him that he was starting to understand. “Instead I have a mill.”

Flickering between his own uncle, then to his King and Queen, he hesitate before speaking, this time much more uninspired by his hubris. “We took hostages. Willem Lannister, Martyn Lannister-”

You turned now to face him entirely as well. Only your voice went from rageful silence to offended volume that spoke louder then Robb’s quiet intimidation. “Willem and Martyn Lannister are fourteen years old.” A disgust that two teenage boys could be considered hostages, when boys barley younger then that, boys who were the King’s own brothers, were hostages and now found themselves dead. 

Robb looked him in the eye. “Tywin Lannister has my sisters. Have I sued for peace?” Edmure answering a dejected no, “Do you think he’ll sue for peace because we have his fathers brothers great grand sons?” 

Another no as you raised an eyebrow at him, “And how many men did you lose?” 

You bit your tongue remembering the number of bodies found at Harrenhal as he answered you, palm pressing into your forehead at the image still. “Two hundred and eight. But for every man we lost, the Lannisters-” 

Dropping your hand you stepped towards him, voice echoing off the walls as the image of the bay on fire tried painting yourself in you mind. “We need our men more then Tywin needs his.” 

Edmure stammered, finding none on his side as the entire plot to keep the Lannister forces away from Blackwater Bay was ruined. His simple job to follow his King’s instructions would have kept those very men from being pushed back into the west. Instead, they were chased out early, and it wasn’t a far ride east to get to King’s Landing where Tywin finally sat with the power of the crown at his fingers. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

Robb had no more mind for this, “You would have. Right here today at this gathering if you had been patient.” Brynden commented with his own voice laced with irritation as he looked to his own nephew that there seemed to be a lack of patience around here. Robb nodded to the man, “We’re done for now.” 

The halls were quiet, not many roamed the castle that day and the ones who were there quietly did their duty or gathered together to mourn their loss. Much of Riverrun seemed to exist with large windows, letting in the light that looked out onto the greenery of one side or the Trident on the other. 

Not much space was there in the shadows, but down an empty hall Robb turned to gently rest your back against the stone, a small pillar keeping your vision from being spotted as he gently grasped your cheeks and leaned in to gently press your lips together. Your hands reached up instantly, finding his neck to run your nails over as he kept his own kiss soft, almost comforting that helped melt your tense muscles into his. 

Pulling back he pressed your forehead against his as he spoke in a low murmur. “I’m not telling you to not be angry, you have every right to be.” Another gentle kiss to your forehead, “But we will come back from this, I promise.” 

Looking up, the ease of going from King to just your husband always surprised you. The way he could give you that soft look that was boyish and sweet instead of powerful and commanding. “I know we will.” Sliding a hand back down to run through the facial hair at his jaw before nuzzling there and pressing a kiss to the scratching surface. “You’ve won this war all on your own so far, I’m not going to let one man’s mistake ruining that now.” 

He smiled, also looking much more boyish. “My wife is that confident, is she?” 

You kissed him one more time before running your hands down to press gently against his chest, feeling his heart beat under the thinner material. “I told you, you were born for this.” 

Narrowing his eyes playfully he nudged your nose with his, “Thought you said I was born to be lord of Winterfell.” 

Looking up at him, you felt yourself lean back casually against the wall, pulling at him to come closer and join. One hand pressed against the stone beside your head, the other running across your waist, his eyes narrowing at the fact that he couldn’t just tease the skin by your hips. Not even letting you respond he playfully bunched up one side of your dress as he smirked. Leaning in closer. 

“As much as I like you in these pretty dresses, I finally found something I hate about them.” Pressing a kiss to your neck and one right below your ear as he whispered into it. “Harder to touch you whenever I want if you’re always this covered up.” 

Breathing out a laugh, you pulled him in for a kiss that you both smiled into as you ran your hand through his curls. For a little moment you two felt so normal, just a husband and wife sneaking a moment together late in the day instead of being the King and Queen with too much weight looking at you like it’s your fault it was all thrown onto you. 

Robb gently holding your jaw to lean up more towards him as he crowded you closer to the wall, he would deepen it just a tad bit more each tiny sigh of need you gave into his kiss. Never pushing too far, but enough to keep you chasing his lips everytime he pulled back. And each time he gave in and kissed you right back. 

Grey Eyes and Black curls travelled far closer then he had been in years and yet still so long away that you may was well existed in different worlds. The gods were trying desperately to tell him something, he was sure of it. High up on the wall, there was a moment it truly felt like you saw one another. Like your eyes locked in shock to see the other’s gaze on you before the image shattered with a blow of cold wind. 

He didn’t know what they were saying, but he was starting to think that it was a message to stop lying to himself. The longer he trekked with them, with her, the more obvious it became how this had to work as long as he could keep it up. Then in moments like now, where he was so close to being able to trick himself into thinking this was normal, that it was fine, and that he wanted this, he would see you. 

He could see you, feel you as if you were there and before his eyes and when the world returned to him, it was all a lie. It was pretending to be someone that didn’t exist and lying to himself about ever wanting this, or even being okay with it. And even worse, he had a feeling that you’d see right through how much he was lying to himself right away. 

He was lying to every single one of them about his real intentions, and yet the lie you’d care about was the one he was telling himself. And the gods taunting him with images and sounds and feelings of you was just one big sign after the other that pretending to be one of these people, pretending like he hadn’t tricked himself into forcing an affection onto her, was just that. 

Something had been trying to guide him onto what felt like the right path since he came to the wall, and with each passing day it felt like that something was warning him that lying to himself about being this, being one of them and being with her? It was trying to tell him, that was the wrong path and he knew it. 

Jon didn’t however, know what seeing visions of you had to do with the rest of it.

The boys were around the same height, and clearly brothers. Dress them in the same clothes and one may think they were identical. On your person was a full skin of fresh water, and food sat down next to you by Olyvar, who was as good as your squire these days as Robb’s in honestly. 

They were short for teenage boys, kneeling down they eyed you as the slightly more wide eyed one stepped forward before the other reached an arm out. “Martyn Lannister, right?” Your eyebrows raised at him, who now looked at you with a suspicion. 

“How do you know?” 

You shrugged one shoulder, “Older brothers are usually the more protective ones.” Looking over them both, they were slightly covered in grime but nothing else stood out. “They haven’t hurt you at all, treating you well?” 

Willem nodded, but Martyn paused, looking at the things with you. “No. Unless your here to poison us.” The boys seemed to not be able to figure out how to feel about you, on one hand you knew you were the on the side that warred against their family, on the other hand you were knelt by their cell bars with food, water, and a calm and collected attitude towards them. 

Narrowing your eyes at them impressed, you picked the skin up and gestured to him with it. “Smart. You’re in a cell, you’re being held captive and your familiy’s enemy comes down offering drink.” Using your teeth to yank the cap off, you took a sip and swallowed it down before reaching through the bars with the rest of it. 

Slowly reaching, Willem took it with a gentleness and a nod as you found the energy to give him a little smile as he said, “Thank you.” 

Tilting to the food beside you at Martyn, “Trust me a little more now, or am I going to be leaving you boys a little less food to prove your safety.” The boys were too innocent to be Lannisters, sharing a little look and with a nod from Willem of please, Martyn approached. 

His hand reaching out before pausing mid air, looking at you with doubt. Blinking slowly, you grabbed parts of the food, sliding your fingers through the bars until he took it on his end, doing the same until all but their actual plate sat with them. Willem speaking through a mouthful. “Thank you.” 

Martyn narrowed his eyes, “You’re Robb Stark’s wife.” You gave a gentle nod as he looked to his brother before turning back. “Is it true? What they say about him? That he can turn into a wolf at night?”

It was difficult not to smile, there was a childlike wonder in the boys eyes as they looked at you. In a way, you didn’t think that was incorrect. Something wasn’t the normal state of things, the way he could control Grey Wind like he was somehow part of him. “Is it scary if I say yes?” Willem didn’t hesitate to nod, a soft laugh leaving you a the look in his eyes. “They do call him The Young Wolf afterall. Such a name doesn’t just come out of nowhere.” 

Martyn spoke up this time, “And does he really eat the flesh of his enemies?” 

Oh it had been a long time since you heard that whisper about him. You bit your tongue to not smirk not wanting to give the boys a scary impression. You mostly came down here to offer food and water, and to ensure an answer Robb’s inquiry that they hadn’t been mistreated in their capture. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Lion cubs aren’t in a wolves diet.” 

You had only just gotten up when Martyn jumped up and over to the bars. “Is he going to kill us? They all say that Robb Stark kills every Lannister he finds.” Swallowing his own nerves down you looked at him softly. When you were that age, you weren’t worried about anything more then not embarrassing yourself too much in front of the boys. But they were here. 

Tone much softer, more quiet but a sincerity you knew perfectly well you could tell them the truth on, “The King in the North does not punish a son for his fathers sins. For now, you two will remain here, but alive, and unharmed. I promise.” 

They both looked to you, a relief in each their green eyes. Martyn shouting, “Thank you for the food...your grace.” You nodded once and turned from them. Quietly telling the guards you’ll send for them to be able to bathe in the mornings before departing. 

Pulling you up onto his lap, Robb slowly begun to pull of your shift, his own shirt tossed off and his breeches undone as he carefully slid the sleeves down your arms. “I’ve sent word to Walder Frey, we agreed moving the wedding as soon as we can.” 

Letting him pull it up off of you, he gently tossed it onto the pile with his own as he flipped you onto the bed, slowly dragging your underwear as he paused to eye the growing wetness between your legs before climbing back up to hover over you. “It’s the least he can do, Edmure. I understand to the people it was important,” your hands begun to run through his hair. “But we don’t win wars fighting the small battles. He led a small battle, and it led to my father losing a bigger one.” 

Smoothing a hand down your side before he ran it over your stomach, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “He’s barley made a move since then, hasn’t he?” Shaking your head solemnly, Robb leaned down to capture your lips more firmly this time. 

His other hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you leaned up partially against him, slotting himself between your legs. Muttering through his barley held on ability to leave your lips for more then half a second, “We have to be more careful,” Kissing down the length of your neck, they were nibbling and light despite his beard leaving burns in it’s wake. Burns he learned you adored the feeling of it. “Tywin in Kings Landing, we have to watch out for each other. Especially now, especially with this.” 

His mouth leaving sloppier kisses down the middle of your chest until he reached your stomach, hovering over as he looked with a heavy gaze. As if he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have such a thing. There wasn’t even much there yet, a small bump that only Robb could see in moments like this but it didn’t matter. 

His son was in there, your son. A sight which for two years seemed like a distant fantasy only dreamt up in the luxury of your short time in Winterfell. His blue eyes were bright almost like there was water hiding behind them as he pressed one more gentle kiss to the skin there. The tenderness of a father to his infant before he lunged back up. 

One arm moving around your back to press your body into his and the other wrapping back behind your neck to seal you in a kiss. His teeth bit more roughly at you, opening you up for his tongue before he groaned. Feeling your hands gently reach between you to pull his cock free. Face twisting up in a sneer at your hand wrapped around his thick length, hardly letting you stroke him before reaching between you to snatch your hand. 

Leaning up with blazing eyes as he looked down at you his own chest heaving as he looked you over, your wet cunt so close to his cock, the very start of a bump at your stomach and your chest that was turning as sensitive as your neck. 

His free hand reached up, slowly dancing along your skin until he grasped at your breast, tightly groping and watching your head throw back at the instant spark of pleasure in your veins. “Is this the baby?” Leaning down you squirmed at his hot breathe over your nipple, “Making you this sensitive for me?” You swallowed heavily, nodding only to arch up with a cry as his teeth bit down as his fingers pulled at the other. His teeth gentle, but he yanked and tugged with a more sturdy force before grinding his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Robb, please,” 

Your vision spun around, Robb kneeling you up on your hands and knees. One hand roughly running through your hair, pulling it to the side as he bit along your ear. His knees spreading your thighs out more until you felt his cock slide between them. “There’s my good girl, letting her husband do whatever he wants with her.” 

Your lungs heaved, your chest felt like it stung and no doubt you’d have a barrage of new colours surrounding them and your neck come morning. “I’m yours, please, anything you want...” He slid in with no resistance, his own groan buried in your neck at how slick you were so fast. 

Taking all of him in one thrust as you cried out, arms shaking from the stretch and pressure inside of you. Pushing deep, he looked down at you with his hands tight on your hips, pounding forward as he pulled you back onto him. 

The way Robb would flip, how earlier you both leaned against a corridor wall kissing sweetly like teenagers, and now he had you bent over in front of him like you were the whore he paid and he the brute to use you for his own cock. But worse was how you’d let him, how much you wanted him to treat you like meat in bed, because outside of it you knew a truly loving man was behind it. 

It was as if this was the only times you had. Robb would keep you at his side, a hand on you at all times but he preferred to only ever have you in a bed. A long drawn out event leaving you both breathless and thoroughly spent. As his cock fucked into you now, one hand dancing between to rub and tug at your clit the same way he fucked against the sensitive part of your walls.

You moaned and cried and had no knowledge if you were speaking words that even made sense other then his own name as pleas. The first time you both came, he spilled deep inside of you as you were kept as much on his cock as possible, the second he painted your cunt and upper thighs completely as you shook from your second orgasm, that had you shake. 

Carefully draping the sheets over you, Robb had turned you on your back, him on his side as he kissed you so sweetly, murmuring whispers of gentle praises and love as you came down when the knock came. 

He pulled the sheet up on you as much as possible and wrapped it slightly behind you as he pulled you up to his chest, arm wrapped around your front and splayed his large hand over your stomach as he told them to enter. 

What you didn’t expect, was his squire there rushing out there had been an incident. Somewhat had happened, and Lord Edmure and the Blackfish required both of your presence in the main hall. It was quite late, throwing on enough to cover the both of you as he led you to the sight. 

Standing there, Robb stood partially behind you. You both seethed, your insides shaking in disgusted horror at the sight. Willem and Martyn Lannister laid dead, mutilated as they they had been forced out of their cell and into their deaths. 

You couldn’t stop seeing the slightly awe inspired boys that had thanked you so kindly after you just showed them some kindness of your own. Edmure stood with Brynden with their own more controlled reaction, and poor Catelyn sat to the side like she couldn’t decide between looking at them once more and breaking entirely. 

The rage inside of you was burning. Out of all the things he could have done, he chose the most horrific path of betrayal he could imagine. Robb’s voice was rough as he spoke trying to keep it even. “Bring them in.” 

Tearing your eyes away from the sight, their eyes still wide open as they died in what must have been such fear to watch five men walk in led by Lord Rickard Karstark who had none of the decency to look ashamed. Robb looked to Brynden asking if that was all, getting a confirming nod in return. Your teeth gritted as you looked at them with no reason to hold back your contempt. “It took five of you to murder two unarmed squires?” 

Lord Karstark looking to you with a fire in his own eyes that you wanted to burn out. “Not murder, your grace. Vengeance.” 

Robb was never as intimidating as he was standing beside you with an energy that could strangle with how heavy and intense it was. “Vengeance? Those boys didn’t kill your sons. I saw Harrion die on the battlefield, and Torrhen-” 

“Was strangled by the Kingslayer.” Karstark trying to justify what no one could. “They were his kin-” 

“They were boys,” Robb’s voice echoed in such an angry roar to them it vibrated through your bloodstream. The men said nothing, and he spat out “Look at them.” 

Lord Karstark nor his men behind him had any courage to do so. Instead he looked to Catelyn and did anything he could to pretend he was justified. “Tell your mother to look at them. She killed them as much as I.” 

Catelyn, who had released Jaime Lannister once he had already been brought back from the escape that killed Torrhen. You didn’t buy it, and neither did Robb. “My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason.” 

Yelling back at his own King like he had the right after what he’d done, made you feel like you were ready to knock the man into the floor. “It’s treason to free your enemies, in war you kill your enemies. Did your father not teach you that boy-”

As Brynden knocked him to his knees with a hit to the gut, you also felt yourself step forward on your own before Robb firmly grasped you around the waist. Tugging you right up to his side as you partially faced one another. “Leave him.” 

Slinking his head up like a snake that never knew when to stop. “Aye, leave me to the King. He wants to give me a scolding before he sets me free. That’s how he deals with treason, our King in the North.” 

You looked up to Robb as he did you, your eyes both with the same understanding that had him holding onto you so tightly. His hand almost coming around to your stomach, he looked down to you. Full knowing you were telling him exactly what he was thinking. “Escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon. Hang the rest.” 

Finally you both looked away from the other, back to the spineless lot of them as one plead a pathetic case. “Mercy, Sire, I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.” 

Looking at his men Robb was confident and unwavering. “This one was only the watcher. Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” The man pleading the entire time as they were escorted out until Edmure closed the door, sealing you all back in the quiet with the murdered boys. 

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun.” Robb refused to let you pull away from him but slid his hand up to run soothingly over your back as he felt the tension shimmer down a bit. Edmure continuing, “They were Tywin Lannister’s nephews, the Lannisters pay their debts. They’ll never stop talking about it.” 

Robb rightly refused the notion. “Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer?” Taking all of the responsibility on his shoulders as King, and men like Lord Karstark had the audacity to question his authority. 

Edmure tried to suggest a compromise. “It wouldn’t be lying. We will bury them and remain silent until the war is done.” 

Robb looked to him, his own anger trying to keep at bay. “I’m not fighting for justice if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks. No matter how high born. He dies for this.” 

Catelyn stood, trying to come to a sense that neither you nor her son would agree with. “The Karstarks are northmen. They won’t forgive you for murdering their Lord. Spare his life, keep him as a hostage.” 

You managed to pull away, your hand pressing against your forehead as you exhaled deeply as you walked to the window. “That’s the solution, he murders two innocent boys and commits treason and his punishment is to what? Keep him here and hope that sends a message?” 

Catelyn looked to you but found nothing to plead with just as she did the choice in her son. “They are loyal men to us, we show their family kindness and they will continue to fight at our side-”

You turned in place. Leaning against the window with your arms crossing over your chest. The boys right in your eyeline when you were the one to tell them they would be safe here. “Show too much kindness people won’t fear you. They don’t fear you, they don’t follow you. We can’t show that kind of mercy for this.”

Robb looked at both his mother and uncle with no room for question. “I’m not fighting for a free North if the kind of people I fight with are traitors and child murderers. Lord Karstark committed his crime and he knows his judgment for it. His men choose to stay they will not be punished for his crimes, but if they leave then it’s their choice as well to break their oaths to our House.” 

“And their vow to their King.” 

Your eyes met and in that silence, Robb watched as you nodded once. He was right, and you would stand by it. “Come the first light of dawn, bring him to the courtyard and I will execute him myself. That is my decision, and my decision is final.” 

The bodies were taken from the room, and the remaining Tully’s left as well. Your back had turned to the rain pouring onto the river out in the dark when you felt Robb wrap his arms around you, pulling you back into him. “I need you to watch that temper,” Your eyes narrowed but he kept you firmly in his loving hold. “It’s not good for you, either of you to be this angry. You leave that to me, I want you calm and healthy.” 

You sighed out, the sizzling anger still there but you didn’t want to risk anything harming your boy. Your hands found Robb’s pulling them to lay over your stomach. “You’re making the right choice. We can’t just fight a war to win, we have to fight and prove the kind of people we want to be in the process. And that out there is not it.” 

His head leaned over yours, running his nose down the side of your hair gently. “You shouldn’t come. To the execution.” You tried to protest but he continued. “It’s my crime to punish, not yours. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my choices and theirs, when you’re in this state.”

Robb allowed you to turn in his arms. Your hands finding the sides of his face as he found your waist, running his hands up and down them. “My place, is by your side, my king.” Robb sighed out deeply, but his eyes were thankful. “I will not have these men judge you but not me for serving due justice. Your actions are mine to stand by, and I will stand beside you on this in here and out there.” 

Leaning to press his forehead against yours, the weight of a love only the two of you could provide at that point was palpable. Leaning down, Robb kissed you once more. 

The rain continued into the morning, refusing to let up as if even down here the gods understood the weight of the actions. Not many were present for it, not many needed to be. Two men bringing Lord Karstark out to the still dark court, Catelyn, Edmure, and Brynden to the side as witnesses with the few scattered who dared show, and on the main steps stood Robb, and by his side, you. 

In every punishment there was a protest to do it with mercy or kindness, but you had shown those boys kindness and they were not shown mercy in response. Justice was justice and what kind of rulers were you and Robb if you showed that kind of mercy to lawbreakers. 

Standing before him, Lord Karstark looked unashamed. “The blood of the First Men flows through my veins as much as yours, boy. I fought the Mad King for your father. I fought Joffery for you. We are Kin. Stark and Karstark.” 

Robb didn’t blink even as the rain poured down. “That didn’t stop you from betraying me, and it won’t save you now.” 

Like he was the lecturer when two children’s blood drenched his veins, he spoke. “I don’t want you to save me. I want it to haunt you for the rest of your days.” He looked to you, only to find the same expression as the man before him.

A voice full of ire as Robb commanded. “Kneel, my lord.” 

His sword, strong and unsheathed as you held its holding. Robb holding the high sword, blade pointed to the ground with both hands on the hilt. Knelt over it slightly as he spoke his judgment. “Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold. Here in sight of gods and men, I sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?” 

A man with nothing to be shamed for blaming Robb for actions that were not his, and yelling of a justice he brought on himself. Your eyes blazing with a fury and Robb’s with an anger that fed his delivery of a Just King. “Kill me and be cursed. You are no King of mine.” 

Robb gave one powerful slice, and it was over. 

The only person to follow his rage out of the court, was you. His arm pulling you close and as soon as you both got into private, you let him take that rage out on you once more. You both needed it, and right now the only peace was found in the other. 

Steve’s previously perfectly gelled hair is mused from the frequent hand running through it, with the top two buttons undone and his sleeves haphazardly shoved up to his elbows. He’s barely managed to change, sounding more and more concerned since returning to the room Tony arranged for Bucky to stay in. “Why would they be ambushed in one of Tony’s warehouses?”

“The warehouse was an ambush,” FRIDAY calmly repeats from the ceiling intercom, having reached out as soon as Steve returned. “The warehouse was sold by Mr. Stark years ago once the company changed. The HYDRA drive was recovered, but not without casualties.”

“Maggie?”

“… She was the main target. I have not heard from them since Agent Romanoff gave emergency treatment-“

“Emergency?” Steve demands, heart dropping to his stomach. He was so worried, so focused on recovering the piece of his past he had left, the only family he could rely on since he became Captain America, and now he was paying the price. Maggie was paying the price.

“She was hit by a bullet, Maximoff tried to keep the wound closed but there was still significant blood loss. After Romanoff consulted Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark they went dark as the safe house was considered compromised.”

Of course. “Keep me posted as soon as you know where they are. I want to see Maggie.” He lets the call end before releasing a heavy breath, leaning against the back of the couch. “This is my fault…”

“No,” Bucky says firmly, watching his every move. “You couldn’t have known it would have been an ambush.”

“No,” Steve sighs. “But I also haven’t been trying. I’ve been pushing off everything Maggie says, from missions to the wedding to everything she’s faced with HYDRA.”

Bucky nods slowly. “So basically what I warned you about?”

Steve ignores his friend’s slightly smug dig, lost in thought. “I really messed up.”

“Maybe,” Bucky grips his shoulder, just like he used to before the serum changed them both. “But even if you’re a stubborn punk, you two will get over this. Just talk to her.”

Steve sighs before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the engagement ring from his pocket. “I don’t think that’ll work this time…”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “She gave it back?”

“Found it on the dresser in my room.” He examines it, lost in thought. Though it’s simple, it’s perfectly Maggie in its subtle charm. “I deserve it… But I’m going to get her back. Whatever it takes.” He nods to T’Challa. “I’m going after them. I’m bringing them home.”

…

The first thing I’m aware of is a musty smell, an almost damp heaviness that takes more effort to breathe through and hurts my side with every deep breath. The air is cool and clammy against my skin, and when I open my eyes I can see the dampness making the dark ceiling shine. I wince a bit as I turn my head, trying to see as much as I can despite the sharp pain in my ribs and how the room spins when I move my eyes. “Natasha? Wanda?”

“Here," Wanda gently takes my hand, hers feeling almost uncomfortably warm. “It’s ok, you’ll be ok.”

“Where are we?” I manage to croak out, mouth feeling like dry cotton and throat almost raw.

“We found a cavern to stop in,” Natasha is on the other side, and I manage to turn my head to see her gathering bloody gauze and shoving it in a section of her bag. “You rest, we managed to stitch it up but you still lost a lot of blood.”

I cringe a bit as I swallow, trying to focus. “Steve?”

“We dropped contact,” Natasha says softly, looking over at me. “It’s safer until we know we aren’t followed.” I manage to nod, and she passes me some water and a straw. “How are you feeling?”

I take a sip, some of the sharp throbbing in my head easing. “I’m ok.” Everything hurts, but we’re safe and alive. “As soon as I’m able to move, we can get to a safer area.”

“Don’t force it,” Wanda rests her hand on my head, easing some of the pain. “We can accelerate some of the healing, but the blood… Well, we need to make sure you’re well enough to travel before we move again.”

I grunt a bit, managing to turn to look around the cavern. There are two backpacks resting by my feet, in close reach for any other emergencies. I notice the frown on Natasha’s face before the gun appears, and I try to sit up when she shifts. “Natasha-“

“Stay here.” She doesn’t look away from the entrance, silently padding into the open as Wanda checks my gauze. Though Wanda seems unconcerned, I can only imagine how exhausted she must be between the mission and trying to help me heal faster.

“Don’t worry about me,” Wanda says quietly, magic still floating around the wound. “I’m keeping you stable until we return to the compound- Banner’s machine should be able to regrow the cells and help you recover faster.”

Natasha returns, and seconds later I see Steve in uniform and rushing to my side. I blink, sure it’s a dream, but he gently takes my hand and strokes my knuckles as he kneels beside me. “Steve…”

“Shhh, rest baby,” His voice is soft and gentle, grip flexing before he leans over and presses warm lips to my temple.

“What are you doing here?” I frown, trying to move my hand free and a bit overwhelmed. “Why now? Why after all this time?”

“Did you think I would let you go?” I make a face, opening my mouth to argue, but he continues on before I can speak. “I love you, Maggie. I’ll never let you go again.” I try to move, but nurses move as Wanda lifts me with her powers, bringing me into the jet and a machine before the pain in the shift takes over, bringing me back to the darkness.

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“Soon, White Wolf,” T’Challa smiles a bit, watching Bucky’s nervous pacing in the hall. Though they’ve already done their openings, the recess the prosecution requested has done nothing to ease Bucky’s nerves. “I’m sure you’ll do well. Between Tony and me, you have the best defense team money can buy.” He glances at his watch. “The girls should be on their mission by now; they will let you know once they find something.”

“You also have a reason, Buck.” Steve steps in to block his best friends’ path, squeezing his shoulder and not even reacting to T’Challa’s confirmation. “What happened to you, what you did… That wasn’t you.”

Bucky’s silent for a moment, looking past Steve’s shoulder to see Ross’s smirk as he heads back to the stand. “But I did it.”

…

“Damn it!” I curse, shooting into gunfire from where I was hiding behind the metal shelves. “Nat, Wanda, it’s an ambush. I need backup on the lower floor, I already have the data, but it won’t mean a damn thing if we don’t make it out of here.”

Red light swirls, and I hear cries of pain before it falls silent again. “I think I’ve subdued most of them,” Wanda grabs my hand, helping me back to my feet. “I’m grabbing a few more files before we go, in case not everything is in the hard drive. Between Stark and Shuri we should be able to-”

“Move!” I shove her hard, gasping out as pain floods my senses, making me stumble back and grip my side. I feel something warm and wet, and I wince as the added pressure only makes the pain throb. I glance down to see more pooling between my fingers, and I curse, gripping the shelf as Wanda knocks them out with her magic. “Fuck, the drive…”

Wanda uses her powers to help close the gash, using her other hand to grab the drive from my pocket. “It’s fine, what you should be worried about is you.” She uses her powers to help me walk, keeping her eyes out for more. “Maggie is hit, we need to retreat to the van and stop the bleeding.”

“FRIDAY, get Tony and send a ride,” I manage, wincing as I try to focus through the constant throbbing and feeling more and more dizzy as the seconds pass- a bad sign, but not one I want to distract from the goal. “The safe house is likely compromised if we were ambushed.”

“I’m on it,” Natasha says calmly, though I hear a strangled scream from her side of the comm.- thankfully not hers. “Just make it to the van, we’ll get you help.”

I nod weakly as the dizziness becomes harder to ignore, releasing a trembling breath when Wanda’s magic releases me and I collapse onto the seat, unable to do anything but try desperately to hold on. “Steve…”

Wanda and Nat share a look, Natasha looking uncharacteristically concerned as she works the controls. “Message him, FRIDAY. He should know the mission was compromised.”

…

“Your crimes against America, the world, are insurmountable.” Ross’ voice carries across the crowded room, full of reporters and families of known victims of the Winter Soldier. “You’ve single handedly caused a majority of the world’s most influential crimes, all at the hands of HYDRA.”

Bucky adjusts in his seat at the stand, looking uncomfortable. “I did,” He swallows, unable to look away from families with tears in their eyes. “I did, and I remember all of them.” The jury whispers amongst themselves, and he continues. “I remember them all because I relive them over and over again.” He closes his eyes when he hears the break in his voice, thinking of Howard’s stunned face. “Every night, I just see their faces… It’s gotten worse since I remembered. I know how out of control I felt. I remember feeling helpless, like I was watching someone else hurting everyone around me. Then the pain of being frozen back up like a piece of meat,” Bucky shakes his head, swallowing but determined to be as strong as he can. “I hated it. I hated thinking or feeling, because it hurt too much. It hurt to think about who I killed, what I left behind, if someone had a wife or kids they wouldn’t see again. And I- I tried to run, tried to wrap my head around what I did and make amends by staying away from everyone.” 

“And you ran, instead of facing the consequences.” Ross shakes his head. “You ran because you knew you were guilty.”

“I am guilty.” Bucky watches Steve shift in his seat, the king placing a hand on the blond’s shoulder to keep him under control- the Steve he knows well. “I ran because I needed time to understand what happened in the gaps they iced me, and I wanted- needed- to understand the crimes I committed so I could work on atoning for them. I don’t deserve to be treated differently from anybody else.”

“Your Honor, the jury has reached a decision.” A voice from the stands calls, rising with a sheet of paper in his hands. “We do not need further time to evaluate.”

“Your honor, I’d like to say something,” Bucky clears his throat nervously, but he forces himself to make eye contact with everyone who was related to a victim- to someone he hurt or killed. “No matter what these results are… I want to apologize. To the families and friends of those I- I made suffer under HYDRA. It’s not enough, and it never will be, but I am truly sorry for what I did and I will always try to atone for what I did. Your family and friends didn’t deserve what was done to them, and I take full responsibility for what I did as the Winter Soldier.”

The judge clears his throat, the jury’s paper in his hand. “The findings of this court and jury are as follows… James Buchanan Barnes is hereby cleared of all charges, and pardoned for his war crimes under the torture and exploitation of HYDRA.”

Bucky blinks back tears, seeing the room erupt with cheers and questions, but what makes his tears fall is the sight of the family and friends standing and clapping, nodding to him in at best acknowledgement and acceptance of HYDRA’s influence on his acts. Ross looks peeved, but says nothing as he returns to his sear and Bucky is guided through the exit by security, T’Challa and Steve on each side as they ignore the flashes of cameras and questions the press is shouting at him.

For better or for worse, Bucky Barnes is a free man.

…

“How long do we have until we’re back at the safe house?” I wince at the sharpness in Wanda’s tone, her using some of her powers to help keep the wrap secure on my side. “I can only do so much before she’ll need medical attention.”

Natasha curses in Russian, and I feel the engine push as she speeds up, the rough terrain hard on the large gash on my side. “We’ll be there any minute, I can stitch her up before Tony’s jet gets here.” She curses again as the van hits a hard bump, making a strangled noise escape my lips where I’ve tried to be silent. “FRIDAY, have Tony speed up the jet and contact Steve. We need him home.”

“Captain Rogers has not answered any messages since 3pm,” The AI chirps, and if I didn’t know better I’d think she sounded apologetic. “Would you like me to contact King T’Challa?”

“No,” I grind, tensing as I try to fight through the wave of pain. “If he’s not answering it’s because he’s busy.”

Nat frowns, not bothering to hide the disapproval on her face. “Maggie…”

“Right now I care more about not bleeding out,” I manage weakly, crying out a bit when we hit another bump and nearly blacking out. “Nat-”

“Damn it,” Nat curses, stopping and jerking the gear into park as she nearly leaps over the seat. “Wanda, I need you on standby. We don’t have much time, I need to- Maggie, stay awake! FRIDAY, get Bruce and Tony on the line!”

It’s too late; the darkness sweeps over me, and I finally rest in sweet relief from the pain.

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“Soon, White Wolf,” T’Challa smiles a bit, watching Bucky’s nervous pacing in the hall. Though they’ve already done their openings, the recess the prosecution requested has done nothing to ease Bucky’s nerves. “I’m sure you’ll do well. Between Tony and me, you have the best defense team money can buy.” He glances at his watch. “The girls should be on their mission by now; they will let you know once they find something.”

“You also have a reason, Buck.” Steve steps in to block his best friends’ path, squeezing his shoulder and not even reacting to T’Challa’s confirmation. “What happened to you, what you did… That wasn’t you.”

Bucky’s silent for a moment, looking past Steve’s shoulder to see Ross’s smirk as he heads back to the stand. “But I did it.”

…

“Damn it!” I curse, shooting into gunfire from where I was hiding behind the metal shelves. “Nat, Wanda, it’s an ambush. I need backup on the lower floor, I already have the data, but it won’t mean a damn thing if we don’t make it out of here.”

Red light swirls, and I hear cries of pain before it falls silent again. “I think I’ve subdued most of them,” Wanda grabs my hand, helping me back to my feet. “I’m grabbing a few more files before we go, in case not everything is in the hard drive. Between Stark and Shuri we should be able to-”

“Move!” I shove her hard, gasping out as pain floods my senses, making me stumble back and grip my side. I feel something warm and wet, and I wince as the added pressure only makes the pain throb. I glance down to see more pooling between my fingers, and I curse, gripping the shelf as Wanda knocks them out with her magic. “Fuck, the drive…”

Wanda uses her powers to help close the gash, using her other hand to grab the drive from my pocket. “It’s fine, what you should be worried about is you.” She uses her powers to help me walk, keeping her eyes out for more. “Maggie is hit, we need to retreat to the van and stop the bleeding.”

“FRIDAY, get Tony and send a ride,” I manage, wincing as I try to focus through the constant throbbing and feeling more and more dizzy as the seconds pass- a bad sign, but not one I want to distract from the goal. “The safe house is likely compromised if we were ambushed.”

“I’m on it,” Natasha says calmly, though I hear a strangled scream from her side of the comm.- thankfully not hers. “Just make it to the van, we’ll get you help.”

I nod weakly as the dizziness becomes harder to ignore, releasing a trembling breath when Wanda’s magic releases me and I collapse onto the seat, unable to do anything but try desperately to hold on. “Steve…”

Wanda and Nat share a look, Natasha looking uncharacteristically concerned as she works the controls. “Message him, FRIDAY. He should know the mission was compromised.”

…

“Your crimes against America, the world, are insurmountable.” Ross’ voice carries across the crowded room, full of reporters and families of known victims of the Winter Soldier. “You’ve single handedly caused a majority of the world’s most influential crimes, all at the hands of HYDRA.”

Bucky adjusts in his seat at the stand, looking uncomfortable. “I did,” He swallows, unable to look away from families with tears in their eyes. “I did, and I remember all of them.” The jury whispers amongst themselves, and he continues. “I remember them all because I relive them over and over again.” He closes his eyes when he hears the break in his voice, thinking of Howard’s stunned face. “Every night, I just see their faces… It’s gotten worse since I remembered. I know how out of control I felt. I remember feeling helpless, like I was watching someone else hurting everyone around me. Then the pain of being frozen back up like a piece of meat,” Bucky shakes his head, swallowing but determined to be as strong as he can. “I hated it. I hated thinking or feeling, because it hurt too much. It hurt to think about who I killed, what I left behind, if someone had a wife or kids they wouldn’t see again. And I- I tried to run, tried to wrap my head around what I did and make amends by staying away from everyone.” 

“And you ran, instead of facing the consequences.” Ross shakes his head. “You ran because you knew you were guilty.”

“I am guilty.” Bucky watches Steve shift in his seat, the king placing a hand on the blond’s shoulder to keep him under control- the Steve he knows well. “I ran because I needed time to understand what happened in the gaps they iced me, and I wanted- needed- to understand the crimes I committed so I could work on atoning for them. I don’t deserve to be treated differently from anybody else.”

“Your Honor, the jury has reached a decision.” A voice from the stands calls, rising with a sheet of paper in his hands. “We do not need further time to evaluate.”

“Your honor, I’d like to say something,” Bucky clears his throat nervously, but he forces himself to make eye contact with everyone who was related to a victim- to someone he hurt or killed. “No matter what these results are… I want to apologize. To the families and friends of those I- I made suffer under HYDRA. It’s not enough, and it never will be, but I am truly sorry for what I did and I will always try to atone for what I did. Your family and friends didn’t deserve what was done to them, and I take full responsibility for what I did as the Winter Soldier.”

The judge clears his throat, the jury’s paper in his hand. “The findings of this court and jury are as follows… James Buchanan Barnes is hereby cleared of all charges, and pardoned for his war crimes under the torture and exploitation of HYDRA.”

Bucky blinks back tears, seeing the room erupt with cheers and questions, but what makes his tears fall is the sight of the family and friends standing and clapping, nodding to him in at best acknowledgement and acceptance of HYDRA’s influence on his acts. Ross looks peeved, but says nothing as he returns to his sear and Bucky is guided through the exit by security, T’Challa and Steve on each side as they ignore the flashes of cameras and questions the press is shouting at him.

For better or for worse, Bucky Barnes is a free man.

…

“How long do we have until we’re back at the safe house?” I wince at the sharpness in Wanda’s tone, her using some of her powers to help keep the wrap secure on my side. “I can only do so much before she’ll need medical attention.”

Natasha curses in Russian, and I feel the engine push as she speeds up, the rough terrain hard on the large gash on my side. “We’ll be there any minute, I can stitch her up before Tony’s jet gets here.” She curses again as the van hits a hard bump, making a strangled noise escape my lips where I’ve tried to be silent. “FRIDAY, have Tony speed up the jet and contact Steve. We need him home.”

“Captain Rogers has not answered any messages since 3pm,” The AI chirps, and if I didn’t know better I’d think she sounded apologetic. “Would you like me to contact King T’Challa?”

“No,” I grind, tensing as I try to fight through the wave of pain. “If he’s not answering it’s because he’s busy.”

Nat frowns, not bothering to hide the disapproval on her face. “Maggie…”

“Right now I care more about not bleeding out,” I manage weakly, crying out a bit when we hit another bump and nearly blacking out. “Nat-”

“Damn it,” Nat curses, stopping and jerking the gear into park as she nearly leaps over the seat. “Wanda, I need you on standby. We don’t have much time, I need to- Maggie, stay awake! FRIDAY, get Bruce and Tony on the line!”

It’s too late; the darkness sweeps over me, and I finally rest in sweet relief from the pain.

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“He and his high lords can sit around their table arguing about strategy and feel like they are accomplishing something, but we’re the only ones doing any of the real work. And we wouldn’t be anywhere but dead a long time ago without you.” Even now, this long into war, Robb still voiced his doubts, never got to sure of himself that it couldn’t go wrong. 

Sometimes, on the quietest of nights, you both would speak of what happens when this war is over, what then? So much of your life now, your lives together, had been about war but the truth was it wasn’t fair to ask to much of ‘what then’. The what then of war, was making sure you win because the alternative was death. 

Neither you or Robb had asked for this, but the responsibility fell onto your shoulders and if neither of you did it, who would? You had to trudge through the mud, feeling like each day without a win was a loss, because otherwise you have no other choice but to lose absolutely everything. 

When you begun to arrive back at the camp, something was wrong. Something was quite wrong, the men were in a state and anger was ripe. A group of men approached at haste both looked to the other with a weary gaze. “Your grace,” 

Robb asking what happened as you both climbed down and in an instant you realized that it was going to be something with quite the chain reaction. “The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.”

The seething silent rage in his eyes was blazing, “How?” They glanced at one another and he raised his voice to repeat himself. They told of the events, of Jaime Lannister bashing the head in of Ser Alton to grab Torrhen Karstark’s attention, and how he strangled Torrhen himself and ran off into the night. That wasn’t what they were speaking of though. Speaking of how he was found, dragged back and yet he still escaped once more. But escaped wasn’t really the right word. He didn’t escape the second time on his own. No, it was far worse then that. 

Robb looked to you and found the same feeling within you as well, this only could have happened because you both were gone. Those on the war council had agreed it was the smartest plan to have both of you to confront Stannis Baratheon, and yet one person had used that absence. Robb’s shoulders were tense as his hands flexed in a restraining temper. 

It had been an intimidating sight to see apparently, the sheer anger in the King and Queen’s eyes as they moved together in furious haste though the camp amongst the growing contempt the events had caused. One that made quite a number of people back away for fear of crossing your paths. Multiple men were guarding outside the tent and opened it for the both of you where more men stood guard inside, as well as a more composed Roose Bolton, and a Rickard Karstark that you knew had full reasons to be as angry as the pair of you were. 

Catelyn sat with a look in her eye, mixing a shame with worry as she looked to her son. Robb’s voice was quiet and even but none were fooled at what lay beneath. “Why?” 

It was likely there was a bit of work on her end to keep any tears back at what she knew was coming, “For the girls.” 

“You betrayed me.” She tried pleading to him, only getting as far as is name until he raise his voice to her. “No. You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyways.” 

Looking up you glanced to Karstark, a quiet understanding of the pained gaze in your eye behind an almost shaking fury to keep yourself tempered. You and Robb had seen Harrion Karstark die on the battlefield and now he’s lost another son and watched Catelyn send his murderer away. Trying to explain herself you found it hard to rationalize it when you knew too well what this meant. 

“Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya are captives in King’s Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free.” And somehow that gave her the right, you thought exasperated. 

Karstark for what you knew a night ago would have been unbridled rage, spoke with a quiet agony as Catelyn felt the guilt compound onto her. “I lost one son fighting by your son’s side, I lost another to the Kingslayer. Strangled by a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father it he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.” 

Catelyn tried to keep her composure, rationalize it, “I grieve for your sons, my Lord-” 

You were the one who cut her off. “These men don’t need your grief, they needed justice. And they can’t do that now can they?” What was the point of how hard Robb worked to keep his men running in order, if everyone did what they considered to be fair. It couldn’t be fair, war wasn’t. 

“Returning Jaime Lannister might be the only way to buy life for my daughters.” Your eyes narrowed, that didn’t sound like her voice coming out of her and it dawned on you exactly who did. A chill running through you, just what had he been offered this time? How on earth could she even consider his words as any truth? 

Your voice in a breathless disbelief that she would ever trust him. You had looked him in the eye with the only trust you and Ned Stark had left, and that trust led you both to knives at your throats and a sword through her own husbands neck. “Petyr Baelish has played you for a fool.” 

Robb stared his mother down, his own voice quiet and he played the lecturer and her the one in need of scold. “You realize what it is you’ve done? You’ve weakened our position, you’ve brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back.”

Looking to the men, he gave a final order, ignoring her plea of his name to listen. He had enough of that for one day. “Make sure she’s guarded day and night.” Turning with you he looked to Roose Bolton, “How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?” 

“Fourty, your grace.” 

“Send another fourty. With our fastest horses.” Without another word to his mother, Robb led you outside, making your way through the camp. “He betrayed you, he betrayed my father and now she let him do it again.” 

Your voice hissing in an urgency. “If they don’t find Jaime by nightfall, we have to be gone. The Lannisters would have planned this, we can’t risk any chance of them getting word of where we are.” 

Robb nodded, “Start getting them ready, we leave as soon as it gets dark. Push onto them and we’ll get behind by the time Edmure draws them out.” 

You paused before walking away, looking at him like he was being weighed down by every force and from each side someone or something threw his work right back in his face. An intensity like he couldn’t stop finding new sides to be betrayed from. “Robb,” 

His brows narrowed as he looked to you, only the short few steps you took did his eyes wash over him a softer need. Cupping both sides of his face as he drew you in by the waist. His kiss was harsh, but you could feel it in the way he touched you how swirling his head was. Keeping your lips to his for a beat longer then intended, he pulled away pressing a final one to your forehead. Soft only for his ears did you run your hand over his cheek, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over your waist as Robb resisted the urge to pull you right back into him. “And I love you.” Giving you a playful nudge backwards, “Now off with you.” 

He watched you walk away, his family tearing itself apart as it all kept resting on his shoulders but the only thing that was keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground anymore was you. Robb couldn’t even be sure if he’d see his siblings again, but then he could look at you and his heart felt full at how much he needed you to breathe. 

You believed in him, supported his decisions and had never even argued. Early on he would wonder if you were keeping it to yourself for his sake, but the more he got into your mind the more he just found someone who matched him. Saw the war and his people as he did, and refused to let anyone think you were not right beside him. 

Ending the war wasn’t going to be easy, but the more time he spent with you, these past few months especially, the more Robb yearned to bring you home to Winterfell. Watch you spent the first snows of winter swollen with his child and know you can raise them safe and free there. Your nights deserved to be spent in his real bed, being treated like a real Queen not the one you had to be with a sword in your hand. 

Robb wished they didn’t, but the red woman’s words had haunted him. So freely speaking of you with his children, the dream you told him that made him take you as many times as you could stand it. His own mother had betrayed him, but at least Robb had you, and a dream of a future where he could be a proper father to those children you dreamed of. 

The atmosphere of the camp was miserable to be in, everyone held their own opinion about what happened and none of them wanted to voice it as you passed by in risk of angering their leaders more then they already had been. 

What were you to focus on, what were you to prioritize at this point? One of your dearest friends betrayed you, your husbands mother betrayed you, and your own father readied to set sail to King’s Landing in a matter only of days now. You could see his plan perfectly, as well as the one Robb has put into play. Only so much of them you could even control, but as you slammed down a bag over your shoulder with a huff and a nod to the squire passed onto you came to one thought. 

If you left in a few hours, there might not be a chance to do so for who knows how long. You had to take the chance now and yet you had no idea what made the thought consume you. Your eyes scouring the camp and found no trace of anyone who would take much notice. 

Your feet walked for you, before you mind had a chance and by the time you caught up to the idea you were already pulling back the entrance to the tent in question. “Your grace. Do you require my attention for something?” 

As you stared at the man, you swallowed heavily. Eyes ready to sting like it was a mistake to do this, but you nodded. Grey Wind sitting outside the tent dutifully as you made your way inside. 

The sky had fallen into a golden colour as you stepped outside finally. The beauty of the light made your eyes sting, and biting your tongue to keep your face steady. However your lungs found it hard to breathe, and your heart pounded harder trying to compensate. A dread you didn’t fully understand overtaking you as you felt the people around you slow down. 

Your breathing the only thing you could hear and little in front of you that could be seen, not knowing if the world spun or if it was you. You supposed it was bound to be your turn, everyone seemed to find something to throw onto Robb lately and yet you didn’t think you had anything to add to it until now. 

Unsure if you had been standing there a while until you were nudged over by Grey Wind. A whining sound leaving him as he nudged your torso before looking up at you. Tall enough even on two feet that you barley had to raise your arms to run your fingers through his fur. He seemed insistent about something as he nudged you again before you shook out head out of its spin. Narrowing your eyes at the direwolf, “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Whined again as you ran a hand over his ears. “Come, considering I’ve heard to screams to for a Lannister head I assume we’re heading out soon.” 

Coming up on the bare bones of the war council’s tent, Robb was sat with Roose Bolton. His blue eyes looking up at you narrowed. You clearly didn’t realize your eyes still tinged with red and a crestfallen expression before you stepped inside. You could guess what this was about. “Still no word?” 

Robb watched you still, but you only stepped closer to him on both feet and keeping your attention on the other man. “We’ve sent a dozen ravens. None have returned.” 

Arms crossing over your chest you tilted your head with a heavy breath. “There’s no way he thinks we don’t already know, which means he’s trying to hide something.” 

Robb finally peeled his eyes from you back to the issue at hand, as Roose nodded in agreement. “There’s an easy way to find that out. My bastard is only a few days from Winterfell, once he captures the castle-” 

“Theon has my brothers. If we storm the castle-” 

You’re glad Roose seemed to have some confidence, beacuse there was little to be found in either of you. “He wouldn’t dare hurt the boys. They’re his only hope of escaping the North with his head.” 

Robb looked up to you, a far away look in your own eye trying to figure out what ever did he think he was going to accomplish with this? What could Balon Greyjoy possibly have said to him that was more important then the over half his life spent with Eddard Stark? Robb’s voice was low as he spoke. “Send word to your son. Any Ironborn who surrender will be allowed to return safely to their homes.” 

Raising your eyebrows, you caught on easily to the path behind this thoughts. Bolton looked unconvinced, “A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace. Too much...” 

“Every ironborn with the exception of Theon Greyjoy. He betrayed our cause, he betrayed me and we will hunt him down no matter where he runs.” You didn’t know if your hand was shaking as it rose to run over Robb’s shoulder blade, but it took a lot of focus to pretend like it wasn’t regardless. 

Roose nodded as you added, “Ironborn won’t stay locked to the land for long before they need any excuse to leave. They took Winterfell because it was open and Theon wanted it, not because they have any use in staying there. They get an easy offer of life, and they’ll turn on him the minute they hear it.” 

“I’ll send word right away.” 

Once alone with him, you knew you should tell him, you knew it was important to say it but for once you found yourself unable to deliver the final blow. As he raised his hand to grasp yours, he pulled you down onto his lap. Your hands finding his neck to rest around and him your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. “I want you to keep an eye on the Karstarks.” Meeting his eyes as you pulled back he squeezed your waist tightly, keeping himself rooted in clarity through you. “They’re grieving and angry, and if they take this too personally I can’t have that kind of dissension in my ranks. You have the best eye for that, and I need someone I can trust who won’t mince words.” 

Nodding, you could see the struggle in his eyes like the only one he thought he could keep every faith in was you. He had so much on his shoulders from what felt like every corner of the realm and the second something goes wrong out of his control, it all falls to his blame. Stannis didn’t need to take Kings Landing just to turn the tides on this war, he needed to take the Iron Throne if just to give Robb a second to breathe for once. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but yet only a sigh came out as you ran your fingers through his hair for a moment. “Most of the first troops are ready to head out, if I leave with them now I can have the scouts up by tomorrow night and we should be hitting them just as Edmure has the Mountains garrison crossed over.” 

Robb shook his head, standing you both up, “I’m not sending you alone. Have Olyvar ready my horse, I’ll meet you there before the hour’s up.” 

Riding through the night was easy, it was quiet and the only sounds hitting you being the chattering of night above and the trotting of hooves below. Not often anymore did it give you the chance to retreat so much into your mind, but you and Robb both needed that quiet together. 

You couldn’t imagine him as such, Theon. Dressed in garb like the Ironborn and spouting their words like he’d always lived by them. You’d grown alongside him watching the surly teenager grow into a man and you couldn’t figure out where that man had went, or if he was never there in the first place. Had he hated the Starks the whole time? 

It was the conversation you both had right as you had set out for war, not even crossing past the borders of the North when he brought it up. That Catelyn shouldn’t be treating you like you were not her family, only to bring up your real one. What reasons though, did you have to suspect that he meant it in the manner for himself? 

You both had a unique perspective to the other, spent much time in the North without being one in your blood, and both of you had strained, or in Theon’s case non existent, relationships with difficult fathers who never treated you like one. Both had followed Ned Stark and understood the world from his perspective and worked by his side often on the same things. 

He knew that you had chosen to go to Robb instead of your father and he tried to broach why you’d do it, maybe shutting down that conversation was a mistake. You knew what being Stannis’s daughter meant, and had you gone to him in the first place you knew what they would make you. Maybe to Theon, it seemed ludicrous to refuse the offer of being a Princess. 

If he was Balons last living son, that would in their independence, make him a Prince. Was he really asking you why you would choose against a similar choice because he was already thinking that far beyond? Why swear himself so openly to another King, to someone like a brother to him if he was already considering this new path? The only answers you could come up with, were simply more questions. 

What would he understand of such conflict? He wasn’t stuck between two choices from the start, there was nothing from Balon until Theon went to him. He brought the conflict on himself where you had no say in the position. The moment you were thrown in that cell, there was a choice you had to make and between life and death, and when life was chosen you had decide what the family that needed you the most was. 

Theon made the wrong choice, and he chose the people that hadn’t known anything about him for so long he returned essentially a stranger. If he were smart, he would surrender with the safety of the boys and accept the justice of his sins. If he were smart. 

“You’re going to scare it off.” 

The sounds of the flowing water streaming down the river was as loud in your head as it was the memory which followed. It was your last visit to Winterfell before Jon Arryn’s death, over two years ago now but it felt far longer. A life that seemed now to never exist. 

You and Theon were crouched down, leaning slightly over a thick tree log that had sat untouched by the riverside. Both with bows in your hand, you had been out there for a number of hours and there was no sign of stopping until he relented. 

Close enough that he could whisper in your ear Theon leaned over, “You’re going to scare if off.” Not quite raising your bow, you moved it into position as you eyed the deer. “It’s way too far, you’re not going to nail it and then it’ll take what? Another two hours for you to get a better shot?” 

Glaring to the side at his confident face you resisted the urge to shove him over. “I’m not going to miss.” 

Raising his eyebrows in a playful jest, he shrugged. Watching you move your arms into position before reaching over to nudge your wrist up slightly. You whipped around to face him, dropping it entirely as you glared at him with a whisper, “I don’t need your help.” 

“You’re too high, you’ll barley graze it’s head.” 

It had been a number of hours now, the pair of you finding things to shoot at in increasing challenge before he came up with nailing a deer in the eye from such a distance away. Getting on the other’s nerves each time one of you did better then the other, until now as the sun set you both knew he was picking at your stubbornness on purpose. “Going to graze an arrow past your head if you don’t shut up, Greyjoy.” 

He turned slightly, his back more resting against the log as you knelt perched forward still. “Knowing you’re aim, you’d have been aiming for my face and missed.” Ignoring him with narrowed eyes forward, you kept your hold on the bow light as you watched the deer kneel its head down to eat. “You can always just admit defeat, there’s no shame in it. Besides the mocking I’ll do ‘till your end of days.” 

“And if I hit it?” You turned your head to glance at him with an amused smirk. “What do I get?” 

Theon took full advantage of how quiet you were trying to be, knowing any other time you’d shove him right into the lake next to you. “Could think of a few things, pretty girl like you.” Riling you up more he pressed on with a grin you knew was smug as you were too concentrated to argue back, “Find a way to lighten up that attitude of yours real easy. I’ve never seen you with a guy, you’re probably wound up way too tight it’d be easy to get you to relax-”

In an instant, you raised up, drawing your arm back before releasing a shot. Landing it right on target with ease. Theon’s head whipping over to look with a disbelieving, “Shit,” You stood up before him, holding a hand out to yank him up as well as he looked a mix of impressed and shamed for being bested. “I was gonna get you to do all my inventory count.” 

Finally, you let out a loud breath of a laugh as you peeled off your gloves finally with your teeth before shoving them in a pocket. “I thought of what my prize is too.” Nodding to the deer with a smirk, “You get to drag that thing back, yourself.” 

“Since when did your aim get so damn good, Baratheon?” 

You looked back as you walked away, “Maybe you’re just getting worse at it, ever consider that?” 

By the time Theon had gotten back, it was obvious he and the river had a bit of an incident trying to get the deer across it, and failed. You and Jon had been perched just outside the walls watching Bran run around with Rickon. The loud slap as he tossed the furs around his shoulder at you was nothing but disappointing to him as it came nowhere near hitting you as he meant. 

His face falling flat as the pair of you had a good laugh over it, until that was when Jon turned on you, grabbed you by the arms, holding you back against him as Theon proceeded to dump the contents of his skin of water all over from the top of your head. Lord Stark had come out at that point, seemingly unsure if he should laugh or scold you three for being more childish then the actual children you and Jon had been out there to watch. 

Sitting around one of the small fires as you stopped for that night some days later, by morning you’d push onto Harrenhal, and you were far away enough that the men could catch their breathe first. Such days felt so long passed that you could see a different person entirely in them. You laughed, and joked, and still knew how to have fun and now everyday was a crushing pressure that could sent you deep into the earth should you let it. 

Coming into your vision were a pair of feet before a body sat down next to you with a groan. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?” Glancing up to see Brynden Tully, you just shrugged looking back into the flames. “Neither of you are very good at that lately, it seems.” Following his eyeline to Robb who was just as tired yet distracted as you were.

“Hard to sleep when your busy chasing ghosts nowadays.” His twisted face seemed to lighten as he relented. The pair of you in quiet for a moment before you felt a twist in your stomach that spilled into your veins, leaving you more on edge as it flowed through you. “The longer the Lannisters hide from us, the more antsy the men are going to get.” 

“We’re at war, your grace.” He gestured to the lot of them all around with a casual degree, “They’re going to be antsy until their back at home in their beds or dead in their graves.” 

Your forearms rested on your knees as you leaned forward, just how long would either of those be at this point. How much longer could the men hold out on a war that your opponent refuses to fight. “Everything we’ve done, and I know they all look to us, to Robb, like it’s our fault we’re here. They feel like we’re losing, and I don’t know how to change that.” 

Brynden leaned in to match your posture, “You can’t.” Glancing up with a raised eyebrow to him. “Most of these men, they aren’t leaders. Their soldiers. They don’t care if we’re winning the war, they want to feel it.” Pointing to Robb your felt that twist in your stomach sting more. “They’ll all blame the King because the Lannisters aren’t here to take their anger out on, but the smart ones know they’re nothing without him.” 

Robb had a good mind for warfare, a great one in fact. But the fact of the matter is that war isn’t just bloodshed and battles, it’s a game of strategy and the side that has no patience is the side that starts to loose. He hadn’t lost his patience, but then you saw those like the Karstarks who didn’t know what to do with themselves if they weren’t taking their grief out on the enemy. 

“And the ones who don’t figure that out?” 

With a darker, partially far away look as you both met eyes, there was a mutual feeling that came to a similar conclusion. You knew it, he knew it, and Robb knew it but what were you trying to do if he sacrificed justice for morale? What were you fighting for if he didn’t lead his men with the values that shape a good man? And which of the discontent ones would be the first to break. 

A hand slapped around your shoulder as another large figure sat beside you pulling you more into her side. Bless Maege for not having any issue with treating you with such a casualness when you were deep inside your own head. “I mean no disrespect, your grace, but you look like shit.” 

Face twisting into a bemused grimace as you nodded, “Don’t know how I could possible take that as insult.” Two skins were in her hands, as she nodded to the other man with a look almost saying to leave if you weren’t mistaken. Brynden took no offence, as he unbeknownst to you, recognized the look on her face as one he’d seen many times before ‘leave the women to talk’. 

Handing you one, Maege nudged “Have a drink,” 

If anything was on your side it was the ease in which you just shook your head without a suspicious sort of pause. “Don’t really think that’s going to help at this point.” 

Shoving it in your hands regardless, Maege bit open the cap of her own. “It’s not supposed to help, it’s supposed to trick you into thinking it’ll make you feel better when all you do is feel worse. Besides, yours is full of water, don’t worry.” 

Opening it slowly, you peered inside and when finding no scent you took a good sip, the water feeling soothing as it ran gently down your throat. The unsaid words along them having burned you up on the inside for almost two days now. “Been a real shit few days, hasn’t it?” 

Maege laughed, giving you a pat on the back as she did so. “Hasn’t been the best, but none of these fuckers have a clue what leading an army is like. They wanna kill something, good for them, that’s not gonna change even if we do get a fight. They’ll be hot for a night or two and then get that same itch, as long as we’re out here.” 

Shrugging one shoulder you glanced to her, “What about you?”

Her expression was light, looking around the camp. “Doesn’t matter how I feel. We chose him to lead us, we chose you to lead us and my opinion ends there. King in the North says we jump into a fight, we fight. He says we stand back and draw them out quiet, then we do that.”

Pointing to the Karstarks she leaned into your side a tad quieter, “Either they smarten up, or they don’t but none of this shit is up to them. What the King does isn’t up for debate.” 

You bit your tongue, taking another sip after to soothe the sharpness in your own mouth now. “No, it’s not. At least with what they’re arguing about. I’m pissed, furious at what she did but it’s not her fault that Torrhen was killed by the Kingslayer and I don’t think he has any clue how this is all making him look.” 

Maege shrugged, “Aye. I can sympathize with what she did, really, and I know you can too. We’re mothers afterall, but that also means you and I know it’s not such an open and shut crime.” 

It took you a moment, nodding absently before you felt a shiver run down your spine. Your hands tensed as they sat in front of you as your eyes flickered just enough to the side to see her leaning towards you. “I’ve had five of my own, your grace. I know what that expression you’ve been walking around with is saying. Or not saying.” Nodding subtlety to Robb she asked, “He doesn’t know?” 

Your head hung down, a wave of strong crushing guilt slamming you in your heart all at once as it biled up towards your throat. You shook your head no, and Maege in a quiet tone, one softer and fair more consoling asked why. 

You shrugged as a fake laugh made it’s way to your face. “Look around you, look what he’s been dealing with? Everyone’s fucked him over one way or another, he’s carrying this war all on his own and now his own mother’s betrayed him. You think he needs me adding that onto his shoulders?” 

Her voice was still quiet but strict, her words slow and separate like enunciating a lecture to that of a child. “You are not a burden to that man. You wanna know what we all see?” 

When you didn’t answer, she took it as a yes anyways. “He’s so in love with you it’s almost disgusting if it weren’t also so fucking endearing.” The taken back look on your face must have been something because she laughed heartily at however you just reacted. “He doesn’t just call you his Queen, he treats you like one. Looking for any excuse to have a hand on you in any way, kiss you just out in the open like he doesn’t care. Probably because he doesn’t.” 

You didn’t have the bravery to look up at him, not just yet but she wasn’t done, “And it’s not just him. You might be the most tense, on edge person in this whole army but the second you look at him, you’re like a puppy.” 

Flickering up to quickly glance, you felt your heart sink at the sight of him standing tall and powerful like he was. “Ah, see? That look there, the one on your face right now.” 

Flattening it out quickly, you at up and took another drink, wiping the droplets off with the back of your hand. “We’re at war, we’re out in the middle of the West fighting the Lannisters and he needs a firm hand at his side not another thing to worry about.” 

Maege looked at you for a good long while. Leaning forward, she took a sip of her own before inhaling deeply. “Do you know why the Mormonts have been so loyal the Starks as long as we have?” 

Raising your eyebrow you dryly responded, “Because the alternative is breaking your oath?” 

Smiling to herself, you looked up as she was almost lost in her own memory. “The King’s protective of you a lot, he lets it sit right on his face and in his actions how protective he is. All them Starks are really, real pack animals that defend their own. We’re not to different to that. We’d do anything to keep our own safe and damned what comes in the way of that we find a way to deal with it.” 

Her eyes glancing to where you both knew Lady Catelyn was, “Even if protecting his own means going against others to do it. He’s not just pissed at what she did, he’s lost too much already and risking our position? Causing this shit in the camp? That just puts you in danger, and you’re the one thing the King has left and he’s desperate to protect it. You’re not a burden, your grace, you’re keeping a man together who think’s hes got nothing left.” 

“Sounds like you know what it’s like.” 

She shrugged, leaning back as the stress in your shoulders lightened a bit. “Sort of, I know what it’s like to have your family betrayed by one of your own.” Your eyes squinted as you thought to those early days in King’s Landing, “You know about my nephew? Jorah?” 

“I know he ran off to Essos, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Her face twisting for a moment as she clearly recalled it. “It was all before you were born, but basically Jorah found himself a wife none of us liked, then when she got too expensive for him he racked himself up in serious debt. So how does he pay it back?” She huffed a bitter laugh. “Of all the crimes he could have committed he starts to trade slaves. Nothing gets him the money to pay off like the lives of innocent human beings, right?” 

Gesturing lightly to Robb she continued, “It was Ned Stark who ordered it.  Called him a traitor for committing one of the more reprehensible crimes the North ever outlawed, and sentenced him to death. No trial, no question, just called for his execution. You know what we did?” 

She looked to her King once more, “We accepted it. Sure it hurt to hear, but not for a second did any of us stand there and argue with him over it. He disgraced himself and what else was there to do but trust in Ned Stark’s judgment? Didn’t make it easier, but we knew losing out shit would only make it worse.” 

You looked up to the Karstarks before asking, “What did everyone else think, your men?” 

“It wasn’t their business. It’s our family and it wasn’t our place to argue with Stark over it, and so it sure as hell wasn’t anyone elses business how we handled it. Honestly, I think if Jorah just faced his sentence like man maybe it wouldn’t have taken us so long to get our shit together again. Instead he ran off like a coward and now we all have to live with the fact that to everyone else it looked like we just let him get away.” Her eyes squinted as she shook her head to herself. 

Being blamed for a crime you had no control over by a member of your own family, you looked up to Robb and yes, you thought. You do get why she hasn’t changed her opinion of it at all. “How’d you deal with it? At the time I mean, after he fled.” 

Whistling in dismay she took a drink. “My brother always said I was the one with the temper, but let me tell you I’ve never seen that old fucker more angry then the day he found out Jorah fled to Essos. Fuck I had to be the one to give him the news, went all the way up North just to tell him what I knew would make him lose it.” 

Your eyes narrowed in question, “Up North?” Considering where Bear Island was in your memory you came up short as to where this all would’ve taken place. 

“Brother’s up at the wall. He gave up his seat and everything to join them and give his boy his chance as Lord, so you can image how mad the was to learn his son threw away everything he passed to him personally.” Given the temper you’d seen on Maege, you could only dream of what those day’s looked like. “It gets easier, you get used to the bad shit and you move on. You and him will move on from it as well.” Nodding to Robb.

For a minute or so you were quiet, a tiny voice telling you to ask and you found yourself vulnerable enough to let it overtake your logic of silence. “How’s he doing? Your brother?” 

She smiled, a real smile. “That old bear’s Lord Commander now. So safe to say he’s doing well for himself. We kept in touch in the first few months of this shit, told him what’s happening and to pass that all onto the King’s brother.” 

There was nothing to press on there, her brother was Lord Commander and so he passed details of what happened over to Jon. But as you looked up at Robb, part of you thought to yourself that he shouldn’t have to only have you to trust. His best friend, his brother, he should've had the chance to be here too. 

It’s not fair Robb only has you now. The other man who was at his side betrayed him and it wasn’t fair because the one person who you know would stand by him better then you ever could was as far way as the brothers could be from the other. 

“He has Jorah’s sword now.” You whipper your head to look at her totally confused as she nodded to Robb. “His brother. That’s why I was up there in the first place, Jorah had the decency to leave behind the family sword. Fancy thing, Valyrian steel. Longclaw we call it, been in the Mormont’s family for five centuries and for over twenty years it just sat at the wall mocking my brother.” 

“But, then this dark haired Snow comes along and for the first time that fucker finally had a real emotion for once. Had the bear head hilt remade and everything. Carved it to look like one of those direwolves and gave it to Ned’s own boy. Funny how all this shit works out.” 

You paused as you looked to the ground, like you could see the hilt in your mind, like somewhere in the mess of dreams that kept you lost at night, you’d seen a sword, the hilt with a white wolf and red eyes and suddenly for the first time in a long time, you almost lost yourself in thinking of how much you missed him. Only broken by Maege before it got too far.

“Anyways, you got me way off track, I came over here to tell you, to do him a favour and be the one scrap of good news that he hasn’t had in weeks.” 

Not giving you a second to think, she stood up and nudged you away from her direction as you paused to turn around with a bewildered but amused look, “I’m sorry Mormont, did you just shove your Queen?” 

“Please, the King’s about to do a hell of a lot more then just that in a few minutes.” 

You’d feel flustered, but the closer you got and the louder the voices became from Robb and Roose, you lost any single sense of that courage. It all ran right out the window, “We should set the siege lines a thousand yards from Harrenhal.” 

What were you supposed to do, come to him and distract from a tactical move he’d been planning in depth and so close to it? You weren’t beside him to distract him, you needed to be his support because none else would. Stepping to them you were noticeably distant, something almost high strung about you that set the air around you on edge. 

“They won’t be able to hold a siege, not in a ruin like that. If the Mountain’s still garrisoned there, he doesn’t have enough fortification to withstand a siege.” Robb eyed you, something far away in his own gaze that you tried very hard to ignore. 

His own voice was rough, like the stress was eating away at him on the inside. “The Lannisters have been running from us since Oxcross, the only way we get them to fight is to push them into one and they can’t do that in a castle that’s barley standing.” 

Roose glancing to the pair of you, almost as if he hesitated to voice his thought before giving up and speaking anyways. “The men need a fight.” 

Your eyes were sharp as they cut to him, “And they’ll get one when the Lannisters finally decide to give us one.” 

What a fight it wouldn’t be. The sun shining over the forever smouldering castle ruins, there was nothing of Lannisters left in there, nothing behind but your own dead. The lot of you arriving in, something felt noticeably wrong. Dead Northmen and yet no single sign of the enemy and not even an inkling that they had drawn forward where Edmure was to lure them in. No, it was like they had just packed up and left.

Turning in place, the sights were ghastly. Blood of the dead, and the burning and rot of those there much longer, ones that weren’t soldiers or any kind but people. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted as you walked towards a pile of men slaughtered like sheep. Had this truly been the first time you’d faced this in months? Had it always looked this morose or were you just naive enough to think a bloodbath would be kinder then this when it wasn’t done by you.

Your gloves sticky as you peeled back the sigil sewn into the men, the flies buzzing around them spoke of a fight that took place too long ago to add up, how long had they been gone? An eagle spread over what looked like a dark field on their persons had you narrow your eyes. 

Standing up, you could hear Lord Karstark in the background. “They rot in the ground while their killer runs free?” 

You eyed the bodies burned and hanged so black they were like charcoal, the clothes of commoners still hanging off their remains so far burned there was nothing like flesh and meat for the insects to bite into. “The Kingslayer won’t remain free for long. My best hunters are after him.” 

Catelyn from where she stood identified what you had as well, “My fathers bannermen.” 

Your eyes shifted to Brynden, a tilt of your head in a dark curiosity that had him eyeing the dead with his own judgments in silence. You had been chasing ghosts, but this was not the nothing that was normally left behind for you. This was the remains of a battle you’d missed that had no place in Robb’s strategy. 

Turning to his men, Robb indicated towards his mother. “Find her a chamber that will serve as a cell.” 

Your eyes drifted before he could catch yours, making your way to a number Umbers clearing out a space below those hanging. “Let me.” Men nodding, as you climbed up multiple crates stacked, balancing carefully to cut down the bodies as they dropped to the ground with little resistance from the rope. 

Your hands on your hips as you glanced to the others. “Start bringing down the rest of them I’m not leaving them all to hang for their loved ones to find.” 

From what you could see there were at least twenty old ones, and maybe eleven more fresh that still held a burning scent if you got too close. You had been cutting down another pair, some smaller then the rest as your stomach begged you pay no mind to the size. The faces as unrecognizable as the anxiety in your stomach. 

Others had begun to care for the dead soldiers around the court as some had names to identify, others had to be made note of their sigil and passed on. Blood weighed heavily in your nose and thick on your tongue, no solace was found in such a task but at least you’d find some use. It was some time later when Roose Bolton came to your side, “Your grace.” Nodding to him you both looked to the scene for a moment, a conclusion that seemed to come to his as well and no doubt had hit Robb. 

“We’re waiting on word from Riverrun and Kings Landing.” You nodded, carefully trying to pull the leather from your hands without completely soaking the skin underneath. The attempt was fruitless.

Your voice was tight and rigid as you spoke. “The men you have, looking for the Kingslayer.” You ran your teeth over your tongue in a sting before you shook off the twisting and churning in your stomach. “You trust their loyalty as much as their skill?” 

A curious look in his eye, “I do.” 

“Good. Because if they catch him, he’ll offer whatever he can to walk free and neither me nor the King have the time for that.” You watched the half smile on his face as his eyes did not match the motion. 

His chuckle didn’t either. “I assure you, your grace they have their orders and they’ll do whatever they can to follow them. They know the punishment for disobeying a command.” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, he seemed off to you, but it was difficult to place where that was coming from. A suspicion ran through you like something you hadn’t pinned was running through your own mind. “If I may say, your grace. It seems like you’re more on edge then usual.” 

Your look was harsh as it was blank as your arms crossed your chest. “I think all of us are more then agitated at this point. Some more then others.” 

Whatever it was you were trying to find in the other just wouldn’t come out, but you had no question that there was something he wasn’t saying just as you were. Only the thing you weren’t saying couldn’t have possibly lived in the same area as what he could be ruminating on. 

The ruins of Harrenhal were not what you had imagined. A great castle encased by a never ending smoulder that left it haunting and cursed with the dead burned alive inside. Only as you walked through the echoing halls, even as the darkness swooped over the sky, you felt nothing of it. Standing at it’s best, you could envision a mighty fortress. A hundred thousand men marching on these walls and a hundred thousand men would be repelled, now it was a place fought over to be ignored. 

On a ledge overlooking one of the courtyards, the space ran as a bridge between once massive structures with carved arches in acting like windows. One foot resting up on the incline as you leaned back against the stone the other foot planted firmly on the ground as you looked high to the night. 

Stars were bright, shining and the moon not yet full but bright as ever. No distracting red to shine with an ominous glow, no clouds looming over to pour down over the blood soaked grounds, just the yell of men below and the cawing of birds in the night above. 

Maybe you could find the strength to prey to the gods, ask them to spare your sins and turn you into a bird and find a place to live out in painless quiet. You’ve heard Highgarden is beautiful in the summer. 

Looking over the raven scroll once more you wanted to scrunch it up and toss it to the wind. Tywin Lannister was now stationed in Kings Landing as proper Hand of the King, the city still stands and Stannis Baratheons fleet suffered a great loss. Just as they were minutes from breaching the gates, coming up behind them in a last minute attempt were Tywins forces backed by that of the remaining Tyrells. Pushing what was left back to the sea.

A sea that burned, the hellscape this very castle is spoken so commonly of was actually that of the Blackwater Bay. Tyrion Lannister had set the water on fire, or more accurately, wildfire. A substance you heard much about, yet never had seen of your own eyes. Bright and green that burned so hot it could not be even stood next to without feeling it’s effects. 

Created by the Targaryeans as the last of their dragons died to keep their fire and blood as true words to oppress with. The absence of any life in the West made sense now, they had moved to push on King’s Landing, because they were not drawn in on the other side. 

The Riverlands did not draw the Mountain and his troops out, instead they were pushed back enough to give them all time to turn around and make a rescue of their captiol. Many thousands had died in the firestorm of the sea, and no words except that of Stannis himself spoke of any life. None other you knew from your life on Dragonstone had any mention and perhaps you didn’t have the right to it. 

That wasn’t the only news though. No it continued to get worse. Roose Bolton’s bastard had gotten to Winterfell and there was nothing left. Just as your own troops had found. A torched castle with scours of a massacre left behind. Bran and Rickon weren’t found, and word from the men there seemed to speculate they were dead. 

You could dream, but there were no demands, no rumour of them as a hostage and nothing of the Ironborn were that of kidnappers. Bran was around Shireen’s age, he didn’t even have the chance of life that could’ve meant much. Rickon was six, how much of this war did he even truly understand? No words of their wolves sighted either. 

Six Stark children, and only four of them remained, as six direwolves and perhaps only three remained as well. As if he could hear you think, Grey Wind approached you with a nudge to your abdomen. He huffed resting his head there satisfied when you rested a hand over his head scratching his ears. You’d seen this beast rip the hearts of men from their still beating chests and bear battle with his master stained with blood. Yet now he lay across you, no more then a large dog. 

The world saw fit to make the wolves stand alone in this world. But Stags? How long had they even lasted? Two were dead, and the third stands against the forth. Somewhere across King’s Landing you had known of Robert’s bastards and yet they were all as alone as the last of you. 

Only, as Grey Wind looked up at you, your stomach twisted and suddenly were filled with the blackness of lightheaded sensations. Moving to pull your leg over the bend, you wavered as you stood up. One hand pressing against the stone wall as your eyes closed and a low rumble came from the large direwolf next to you. Nipping at the edge of your shirt he pulled you away from the window as you opened your eyes in shock. “Alright, alright.” 

Looking at the dark eyes staring up at you, you ran a hand over his face. Some comfort finding itself nestling in the pit of your stomach as you did so. Nodding your head at him to the side, he turned on a dime and walked you through the halls of ruin. 

Coming into the door, you quietly shut it behind you as Grey Wind slipped in. Robb sat on the edge of a bed, elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Your heart yearning for the possibility of healing his with no hope behind such a wish. You were slow as you approached, saying nothing before coming to kneel before him. Raising his head, the redness was already passing and his eyes were the remnants of what was once tears. 

You hesitated to reach out to him, this was a raw offence he did not deserve. His youngest brothers by what was once a brother to him. Your face was as fallen as it had been much of the day, only now you had to try and be the one there for him regardless. “If I ever see him again, he’d better be thankful that all I’ll do his take his head. Bran can’t walk, Rickon was six what does he think he’s proving to anyone by murdering two boys who can’t even hope to fight back?” 

There was a choke in his tone that wanted to yell or cry but had no more tempered energy to do either one. Finding his eyes, you tried to kneel as straight postured as you could, keeping the shaking of your lungs to yourself. “He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone but himself. They found all the ravens dead, he tried to hide this.” 

Robb sighed out, his hands falling to rest along his thighs as they curled into fists. “He knew Bran and Rickon their entire lives, they’ve known him their entire lives. They saw him like a brother,” 

Catching his eyes, he finally looked into yours properly before closing them again. His exhale much shakier this time. “The Lannisters take half my family from me, and now Theon kills the other half. What am I even left with?” Opening once more he looked to you, a plead for answers in his eyes while his fists tightened in the rage of not having any control. 

“Robb,” You started, a breathy whisper before he reached up suddenly. His hand finding the back of your head as he leaned to press your foreheads together. His breathe hot on your skin as he spoke. 

“My own mother betrayed my trust behind my back, the only brother I even have left?” His jaw clenched as your hands gently found the courage to dance lightly across the part of his chest exposed to the air. “I let him vow himself to the end of the world because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for what he deserved. I think the only one I have left anymore is you.” 

One of your thumbs trailed over his jaw, as your heart raced. Pushing the images and memories of the other back down deep for Robb’s sake. You couldn’t keep this from him anymore, it was cruel. You didn’t breathe an inch as you spoke, “My love, you have more then just me. I promise.” With nothing but nerves and anxiety racing inside you, you gently opened the tight fist in his lap still, running your fingers along his until he could feel his tensity loosening. 

Robb thought you were trying to hold his hand, his brow furrowing when you took it and pulled it off his lap. Barley able to hear you as your own voice was so small, so unsure of yourself as you moved his hand to brush lightly under your shirt over your stomach. “You have us.” 

It took him a moment to even register what you had done, pausing before turning to look down at where you held his wrist that brushed over the sliver of bare stomach. “Us?” His eyes were bright as he whipped his head up to look at you, almost confused for a moment as you could see it all hit him. 

The nerves in your head ready to make you pass out as he looked back down. “You- you’re really?” 

Suddenly in his own mind, Robb put it together. The sudden distance in yourself that begun not long after you returned to the camp, the way you kept away from him and then compounding of everyone having found a way to wrong him and he felt angry. Angry that he had given you the slightest idea that he’d be unhappy with you, that he hadn’t paid more attention. 

The way you hadn’t been quite yourself, more needing of physical touch then normal to the point you even commented. You stared at him, for once too scared to try and read past his narrowed eyes and lips parted in shock as he suddenly sat up, grabbing you and hauling you into his arms and straddling his lap as he buried your face in his neck. 

He huffed out a laugh in disbelief, before letting out another. More came turning into a laugh of joy before pulling back long enough to press a kiss to your lips. Barley leaving them to speak softly, “My girl,” a smile a real smile that had barley been on his face in weeks painted over, “My perfect girl.” 

Pulling you back into another kiss, passion exploding in your mouth as you held the sides of his face as you tried not to let tears fall from them. You failed. Robb sat you on him back a little, one hand on your waist as the other ran over your stomach, “Why would you keep this from me? Why would you think I didn’t want to know about this?” 

Your chest rose with a bile that you didn’t want to form into a sob. Swallowing hard the tears did not give such an obey of order. He touched and looked at you so softly, you’d cry if you tried explaining yourself in full. All that came out as like a confession of a misbehaving little girl you once were, “I thought you’d be mad,” 

His hand now smoothed over your stomach firmer, thumb running back and forth as he narrowed his eyes in guilt. “Mad? At what for giving me the one thing I’ve dreamt of having with you for two years now?” 

Resting now on his shoulders, you held all the sadness for the both of you. “We’re at war, we have no idea when we’ll not be, the last thing you need-” 

Your name came out surprisingly stern from Robb’s lips. “Look at me.” Moving to keep your face looking right at his with a warm hand on your cheek. “War or not, you’re my wife, the love of my life. Do not think for one second, that you haven’t just given me the happiest news of my life. War or not, it’s you and me. It’s us,” His hand running over your stomach, “Now and always.” 

You wanted to say something back, anything that would return the love but all that came to mind was tears and the relief that he wanted this, he wanted this and through all of the noise inside your head? All you could do was wrap your arms around him back as he kept one of his around you and the other pressed against your stomach. 

It had been a long time in this war since you’d thought about what you genuinely wanted, but right here in Robb’s touch you found that answer. This, you wanted this. His voice was deep and the wavering of his was heard over the other clear distinction of a smile. “I hope you like being with child, my queen, because we have a whole list of names to get through.” 

The laugh you let out was choked in a sob that he yet was thrilled enough to make him laugh. “How about we have this one first, then we can go from there?” 

Robb pulled back, running his nose along the length of yours. “Oh no you’re not getting off that easy. You should know by now, there’s nothing a wolf wants then to see his mate with a whole litter of pups.” 

Your eyes crinkled in a mock protest before he kissed you again, rough but quick. “You’re that confident?”

He shrugged as you both grinned, barley leaving the other enough to not feel your breath on your faces as he jested. “My mother had five children and I don’t even think they were trying for that many.” Robb turned his next kiss more sultry. Moving your jaw to the perfect angle to bite at your lip before kissing you with a greed and a tone in his voice that made you shiver. “Me on the other hand, maybe I’ll just keep you pregnant long as I can. Help my perfect little wife make us a perfect not so little family.” 

Turning you to lay you out flat on the bed, Robb pulled your shirt up and off, giving him free reign to run his hands and lips over your stomach. “May as well start now,” Crawling up the length of your body until he caged you in hovering over you. His lips brushing against yours in a soft tease, “No harm in practising for later, right?” 

Nodding, you reached up to run your fingers through his curls as he consumed you with his kiss. All biting your lips until they were red and swollen before licking his way into your mouth. Pulling away suddenly, leaving a trail of saliva to snap between you as he yanked off his own shirt before moving to impatiently pull yours until you lay bare beneath him. 

Your heart raced and your blood burned as he reached for the laces of his breeches only to catch your eye, the hunger in his must have matched what you felt in yours as he then knelt straighter up. Looking at you with an eyebrow raised as he ran a hand over your jaw, “Show me how a good girl treats her King.” 

You’d collapse if you weren’t already laying down, a dizziness hitting you as you kept your eyes up on Robb, his blue eyes were as dark as the sky beyond his window. It wasn’t fair how easily he had you at his mercy, how much you wanted to be. Pulling the material down his legs until they reached where he sat on his knees, you braced your palms on his thighs before Robb tsked. Running hand through your hair before finally moving to lay you back down. 

Standing, he yanked them the rest of the way off standing bare to you as your thighs clenched together at how thick and heavy his cock was. Coming to sit on the bed beside you, he reached one hand to gently slide between your legs and push a space for his hand. Fingers brushing your clit before gently running over it with a slightly firmer pressure. 

“I’ve been a bad husband,” You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head. “You’ve been upset, and I didn’t even pay enough attention to notice what was wrong.” Trailing down to run along your soaked entrance before sliding back up to your clit in a teasing pattern.  “You’ve stood beside everything I’ve said and done, always supported my decisions, but I haven’t been there to take care of you back.” 

This time you found your voice, stammering part way through as he slid a finger deep inside of you, “Robb you do take care of- me, fuck,” A gasp making you breathe out the rest in moan trying to hold back. “I don’t need you to be anything but exactly who you are.” 

Head thrown back as he slowly slid his finger out before pressing a second in deep to the knuckle, his other hand running along your forehead to move your hair gently off it. “You don’t deserve to be pregnant in the middle of a war, so far from our home.” His thumb running tightly over your clit as your stomach muscles seized at the pleasure growing within. “I should be taking you in our bed, not having you on the battlefield where I can’t promise your safety.” 

Your head felt as if it were sinking slowly underwater as your core screamed at you in addictive pressure. Reaching up, you grasped the wrist close to your head, running your thumb along his pulse as Robb picked up the speed of his fingers. “I, fuck, I belong wherever you are.” Robb’s chest rose and fell faster as he felt how wet and tightly you were clenching around him. 

Moving to press his lips against yours you wrapped an arm around his neck and into his hair once more. “You stay by my side now, no matter what. We don’t leave the other,” His tone warm and yet a bit possessive as he bit at your lips to gain entrance to your mouth, his hand adding a third to make you whine as his palm rubbed against your clit roughly. Your thighs tense and shaking but just as he wanted, you kept them nice and wide. 

Your breathe almost in needing high pitched pants when Robb pulled back, a smile on your lips that Robb could’ve melted at the sight of. You clenched around him and he could feel the pressure building inside you even despite your words. “From this day until our last day,” 

Just as Robb ran a hand over the top of your head, he pressed his forehead to yours with gentle shushes as you felt your orgasm shatter. Throwing you off the cliff into the waters below with no warning as his touch kept you from arching right off the sheets. You burned and almost could cry at the waves swimming inside you as he slowly pumped his fingers until your cries turned into unspoken begs of mercy. 

Giving no time, Robb kept them inside you as he kissed you again, “Turn over, my love.” 

Only sliding out as he climbed behind you, not giving you the chance to get onto your hands and knees properly before sitting on his heels, pressing your back against his chest as he moved your hair. Leaving sloppy kisses down your neck as he slid his cock between your legs, running along the teasing entrance with your hands wrapping behind you. “Robb, please,” 

With one hand on your hip, he spread the other wide across your stomach as he breathed heavily into your ear. “If only those men could see what perfect, needy little whore their pretty queen is.” You whined as he pressed his cock to tease more firmly against you. “It won’t take long, they’ll see how well their king fucks his queen soon enough.” Letting one of your hands fall to cover his on your stomach Robb grunted before sliding his cock inside of you. As he so loved to overwhelm you, he sunk as deep as he could go in one smooth thrust. 

Pulling a cry from your lips and a growling of swearing from him as he dropped his face more into your neck. Slowly, Robb fucked up into you. Barley giving much force as he drew his cock out and pushed back in so slow that the sound of how wet you were around him was obscene. “Fuck, anyone’d fight a war just for a chance at this cunt, kill whoever it took just to be able to feel how soaked you are around their cock.” 

His teeth leaving nibbles and his facial hair rubbing the sensitive marks raw and red as he moved his lips up and down. “Good thing I’m yours then, right?” You wanted to sound sultry but you couldn’t get through the words without almost breaking with a moan. 

Robb so thick inside of you, the stretch was a sting you never knew could be so perfect. He slid his cock inside of you so smoothly without ever picking the pace up. Every vein and ridge of his cock pressing against the sensitive wall inside of you that had tears creeping out. 

The hand on your waist moved, wrapping to force your face to turn to the side and let him capture your lips. His tongue meeting yours as gently and slowly exploring as his cock fucked you like maybe the world around you would stop as long as you two were intertwined. Only pulling from your lips long enough to slur out, his voice thick and accent strong as anything like he was to deep in how you felt around his cock to care if he was intelligible. “I love you, gods I love you.” 

You tried so desperately to say it back, but it was like he teased you by kissing you harder each time or fucking you deeply to tear a gasp from your throat. He smirked when you whined his name and laughed as he could see your brows furrowing when he kissed you again. 

Bodies covered in sweat, the coiling in your stomach build slowly as he took his time with you. Never speeding up, and always covering part of you with his hands, kiss, tongue, teeth and never letting go of your stomach. Instead choosing to press your hand down against the skin so he could rest it on top with his much larger hand consuming yours. 

Your orgasm is what had the tears rolling down, it was slow and not wild like fire but a slow consumption that took your body into the flames limb by limb before you were engulfed. Your chest felt like it was floating and your head in the clouds as Robb fucked you all the same through it before he followed. Cock buried deep as he came warm and thick into you, pressing his lips to yours as you finally found a chance to mutter out, “I love you, Robb, I truly do.” 

His muscles ached as he spilled inside of you before resting his face in your neck as you both slowly started to come down. “You don’t leave my side, either of you.” His hands now both running over your stomach as he knelt you more towards the bed. 

Robb turned you in his arms to face you, one hand running over your hip and stomach while he switched between looking at your eyes and below once more. You snuggled as much as you could into his chest, Robb running his nose along your hair as you pressed into his neck. 

Tomorrow, you’d have a funeral to begin leaving for, but maybe as cruel as it was, one life was given up for the other. His grandfather’s life leaving to join the gods, so that you and Robb still on the plains of the living could bring a new life together. 

A few name ideas for boys rolled around in his head, but he worried not. Robb would share enough children with you to honour all of them. He’d make sure of it just as much as he could see in the hope in your eyes, that you too, wanted all of it. 

It didn’t just startle Jon, it almost horrified him. His conscious mind desperate to justify his actions, fighting between telling himself what he knew was true, versus what he was lying to himself about to cope with the reality. 

If he didn’t think about it, he could ignore how this was supposed to be with you. He could pretend that it didn’t matter how this played out, or lie to himself and say it felt good because he wanted it. The alternative outside the walls of the cave was death, prove your worth or die and this was the path chosen for him to do so. 

As long as it felt good and he lied to himself, Jon could pretend as if he was fine with it. Until the image of you, dragging a hand to your stomach flashed before his eyes. The gentle brush of fingers against a stomach that he somehow knew was pregnant and he flushed with how clearly Ygritte thought such a physical response was for her. 

Jon could feel his hand against your stomach, and he could see a dream of a baby. Eyes coloured just as yours but the hair was dark and curls that he knew all too well on himself. Let him think it was for her, and maybe Jon would get through this and just accept that lie as truth. 

But Jon could see the child in his mind, the swell in your stomach and your breathless needy sigh in his ear that had been his only source of comfort in the rough beds at the wall. He could see all of it, and he felt shamed that on the other side of you, he could only envision himself, not the brother he knew it really was all for. 

Jon could pretend he wanted this, when he knew the opposite was true, that he didn’t send his only protection left away at her demand. He could pretend that she was just like you when the opposites were the reality, and Jon would lie to himself as long as she was with him that he did want it. 

Lying to himself about this was easier then admitting the truth, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t get to tell himself that he was forced into it. He should be better then that, and yet the only thought that kept Jon from cracking that resolve and leaving him broken, was the image of you with a child that should have been his. 

The image of a pregnant wife that looked nothing like the wildling girl who acted as if such a role belonged to her. The need in the sounds in his head that belonged to you when they were being given to his brother. 

He told you to love him, he wanted you to love him. But in this cave, Jon found no solace in the forced pleasure his body was having that you willing shared with his brother. His mind wasn’t settled and it burned him harder each time he could see the woman he was with. 

Jon did this beacuse he had no choice, and he would lie to himself about not being forced into it for as long as he needed to to handle such a truth. But Jon couldn’t hide from himself, that every time he saw you as he touched the wildling girl, it fed her delusion of what she was to him. She forced him into it, and pretended as if his pleasure was the only consent she needed. You never did and never would force him into a single thing if you thought he doubted or hesitated in wanting. You respected him like none ever did or still does.