𝄞𝄢 Of Wolves, Lions, and Little Shadows 𝄞𝄢
⟢ Notes: Fathers Day special - one shot of Robb and his family pure fluff
The first light of dawn spilled across the snow-dusted roofs, painting the ancient castle in gold and rose. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. Somewhere in the distance, a stable boy laughed. A raven cawed from the rookery.
And in the Stark bedchamber, chaos had already begun. Robb Stark opened one eye something was on his chest. Correction. Several things were on his chest.
He glanced down. Seven-year-old Ned had somehow wedged himself against Robb’s side during the night. Lyanna was sprawled across the blankets like a victorious conqueror. One of the twins—Robb wasn’t entirely sure which one—had stolen half his pillow.
He sighed. Then smiled. Because this was his life. And gods, he loved it. A soft laugh came from beside him.
Y/N was awake. Golden hair spilled across the pillows. The morning light caught in it like sunlight trapped in silk. She looked impossibly beautiful. Robb still hadn’t figured out how that was fair.
After nearly ten years of marriage, she could still steal the breath from his lungs just by smiling at him.
“You’ve been trapped,” she whispered.
“I think it’s too late for me.”
Her laugh was warm and sleepy. Robb leaned over and kissed her forehead. Immediately, Lyanna’s eyes flew open.
“AHA!” Lyanna repeated, pointing dramatically. “I SAW THAT.”
Y/N buried her face in a pillow. Ned woke up.
Ned looked scandalized. The twin on Robb’s pillow sat upright.
“Again,” Lyanna confirmed.
“You all exist because I kiss your mother.”
The room fell silent. Five children considered this information. Then Lyanna screamed.
Y/N laughed so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
Breakfast was somehow even more chaotic. The Great Hall echoed with voices.
Ned sat beside Robb, trying very hard to eat like a grown lord. Lyanna was telling a dramatic story that changed every thirty seconds. Serenna was feeding pieces of bread to a very patient hound beneath the table. The twins were arguing over who had seen a squirrel first three days ago.
And baby Branrick sat in Y/N’s lap, happily attempting to eat one of Robb’s fingers.
“That’s not food, little wolf.”
Branrick disagreed. He bit harder. Robb laughed.
Across the table, Y/N watched him with that soft look she got whenever he was with their children.
The look always made his chest ache. Not painfully. Just… Full. Too full. As though happiness itself had become something tangible.
“You know,” Y/N said quietly, “they adore you.”
Robb glanced around the table. Ned was trying to copy the way he held his spoon. Lyanna was wearing one of his old gloves for no apparent reason. Serenna kept looking toward him whenever she laughed. The twins were already planning to follow him to the training yard. And Branrick had completely stolen his hand.
“They get that from their mother.”
The training yard became a battlefield before midday. At least according to Lyanna.
Robb turned. His daughter stood atop a wooden crate. A blanket draped around her shoulders like a royal cloak. A stick sword pointed dramatically toward the sky.
“I have captured Winterfell.”
Lyanna thought very seriously.
“You must carry me on your shoulders.”
“The most important demand.”
Moments later, Winterfell’s newest conqueror was riding triumphantly on her father’s shoulders while announcing her victory to anyone willing—or unwilling—to listen.
Near the godswood, Y/N sat beneath a tree with Branrick asleep against her shoulder.
Serenna occupied her lap. The little girl was carefully weaving flowers into her mother’s hair.
A task she took very seriously.
“You’re always beautiful.”
Y/N’s expression softened.
Across the yard, Robb watched the exchange. And felt absurdly emotional about it. Because Serenna had inherited Y/N’s gentle heart.
The same heart that had once looked at a young northern heir and decided he was worth loving. A miracle, really.
Later that afternoon, Robb found Ned sitting alone on a stone wall.
The boy looked troubled. Robb sat beside him. For a moment, neither spoke.
“When you became Lord of Winterfell.”
Ah. That. Ned stared at his boots.
“You always know what to do.”
Robb nearly laughed. If only.
“When I was your age,” he said, “I thought grown men had all the answers.”
Ned looked horrified. Robb chuckled.
“The secret is that everyone is figuring things out as they go.”
That seemed impossible to Ned. Robb remembered feeling the same way about his own father.
“But Grandfather always knows what to do.”
“Ned Stark only looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
Ned smiled. A small one. Then he leaned against Robb’s shoulder. Just for a moment. And Robb had to look away before he embarrassed himself. Because seven years old already felt too old. The days were moving too quickly.
The evening feast was small. Just family. Just home. Candles glowed warmly against stone walls. Laughter filled every corner of the hall.
Branrick had finally fallen asleep. The twins had exhausted themselves. Miraculously. Serenna was curled against Y/N’s side. Lyanna was halfway through telling another dramatic story and Ned was trying very hard to stay awake.
Robb sat at the center of it all. Watching. Listening. Memorizing. Because some moments deserved to be remembered forever. Y/N caught him staring.
The look she gave him was impossibly tender. The same look she’d given him years ago beneath the heart tree. The same look she’d given him on their wedding day.
The same look she’d given him when each of their children had been placed in their arms.
Love. Simple as that. Love.
Much later, after the children had been carried off to bed and Winterfell had settled into silence, Robb stood atop the battlements.
Snow drifted lazily from the sky. The North stretched endlessly before him. Beautiful. Ancient. Home. Footsteps approached behind him. He didn’t need to turn around.
Y/N slipped beside him. For a while, they simply stood together. Looking out across the sleeping castle.
“You know,” she said softly, “Lyanna told me something today.”
Robb immediately looked concerned.
“She said you’re her favorite person.”
“He tried to eat your face.”
“That’s basically a declaration of love.”
They laughed together. The sound disappeared into the winter air. Then Y/N rested her head against his shoulder. And suddenly they were twenty again.
Newly married. Standing beneath the heart tree. Dreaming about a future they couldn’t yet see. A future that had somehow become even better than either of them imagined.
“I love you,” Robb said quietly.
She tilted her head up. The moonlight caught her eyes. Even now, after all these years, he thought they were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Simple words. But they carried years within them. Children. Laughter. Arguments. Late-night conversations. Winter mornings. Summer evenings. A life built together. A family built together. A home.
Below them, Winterfell slept peacefully. Inside its walls were six children who adored them.
Parents who loved them. Siblings, friends, laughter, memories. Everything. Everything he had once feared losing. Everything he now possessed.
Robb wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. The snow continued to fall. Soft. Gentle. Quiet.
And for one perfect moment, standing beside the woman he loved while their children slept safely below, Robb Stark thought that perhaps the gods had been kinder to him than he’d ever deserved.
Y/N looked up at him. Smiled. And somehow, impossibly, after all these years— he still fell in love with her all over again.
