From This Day Until My Last
"Now, and always." I watched the firelight glimmer in his eyes as he said the words—sincere, without hesitation. It was all the assurance I needed. I drew my sword and knelt, vowing to serve my friend—my friend who was now my king.
I had never thought of Robb Stark as the sort of man who would be a king, never pictured him sitting on a throne meting out favour and punishment to bowed and fawning subjects—Robb, who had been my closest friend since we were both too young to wield a sword with any sort of skill, the one with whom I climbed trees, skipped stones, skinned knees and bloodied noses. But the drunkards and madmen we'd seen as kings in recent history were likely not the best examples of men who could bear that title. And who was Stannis or Renly to me? Men I had never met from castles far and foreign. If Robb Stark had asked it of me, I would have bent the knee to either one, but it could never have felt as right as it did to kneel to Robb. My entire being hummed with exhilaration. If there were ever a man worthy of my fealty, it was Robb; he was the exact sort of man who should be king.
Robb, who was so sincere—sometimes almost painfully so—in everything he did, everything he said. Who loved his family with every fibre of his being and wore responsibility like armour. Who could with a single disappointed or disapproving glance make me question everything I was and every decision I had ever made. When I saved his brother with a single well-timed and perfectly-aimed arrow, I had expected Robb to thank me, to be impressed by my skill and grateful for helping with a difficult and dangerous situation. But the horror in his eyes as he yelled at me for risking his brother's life—I knew I could make the shot; there really was no risk to Bran from me, but it wasn't a risk Robb would take. Not with his brother's life.
I would never have Stark blood in my veins, but as I knelt in the dirt with my sword in my hand, Robb was my brother—the brother I chose, the brother who chose me. I had never wanted anything so much; perhaps I had never wanted anything else. I was not from the North, but the King in the North was my king, from this day until my last day.
A/N: George R.R. Martin can just go stick his opinions on fanfiction somewhere unpleasant, because this is based on the TV show (I've never read his books), and that TV show is basically a work of fanfiction already, so :P at him.