Preface: Basically instead of Robb Stark being born there was a girl called Eltanin instead.

FAQ before beginning:
Q: Is this story any good?
A: NO! (IT IS BASICALLY A BIG MARY SUE BUT IT IS REALLY FUN TO READ AND WRITE.)

ALSO: This is mature content, smut, contains sensitive subjects.

"Is this what you wear to seduce your husband?" he asked when he entered the room, an hour or more after I had left the feasting. It was getting rowdy and most of the women were planning to leave their men to the whores for the night.

"You should have heard the calls they gave when I said I was leaving to see my bride!" he said. "And here you are in that."

I was in my dull, ordinary nightgown, cross-legged on the bed. "I had nothing else my lord," I said. "Nothing else for sleeping, I mean."

"It is our wedding night. We are not supposed to be sleeping."

I flushed but stayed silent. I so wanted a witty retort, but I had nothing to say.

"Alright," he said. "Let's do this. Let nobody say I left the thing unconsommated." He began to unbutton his doublet, then loosed the string of his trouser so that he was almost all revealed, only in small clothes. He was a god of a specimen, that much was true, especially be candlelight. I had seen a man's chest before but it had been my brothers', scrawny and lanky playing in the stream, or the blacksmith in the yard, a great hairy ogre. It had never crossed my mind that a chest was a thing, to be admired or complimented or compared to other men... but he was beautiful, delicately muscled, golden all over, skin taut and unbroken and he seemed to glow, to exude some extra worldly aura us lower mortals lacked.

"What are you thinking of?" he said.

I swallowed. "How much my sister would wish to be in my place," I said. Sansa was the one who huffed over long descriptions of yellow haired bards and lovers.

"Sisters, eh?" he smirked for a second, then turned serious. "Yes I'm sure you are quite the luckiest girl in Westeros. Can I help you with your dress?"

"No need," I said quickly, not wanting him near although of course it was only delaying the inevitable. The buttons were at the front and I looked down to undo them, but I was still aware of his eyes watching me.

"You know, when my father told me I was to be married, he went on about your beauty. Eltanin, the niece of Lyanna Stark who moved men to war, the daughter of Catelyn Tully, who has kept Lord Baelish hard for twenty years," he said, leaning against the corner of the writing desk. "They didn't tell me you had yet to reach womanhood."

"I am a woman," I said sourly. "I've had my flower."

"Ah, yes. Practically an old crone then. Glad we cleared that up."

My mouth moved but I had nothing to say. I had reached the last of the buttons and flustered, keeping the thing closed with my hands, wondering if we could somehow do it without him having to see me.

"Go on then," he said.

I couldn't help but close my eyes as I stepped out of it but opened them again after a moment. He was looking at me with an unreadable expression and there was a long minute of agonising silence. "Forgive me," he said finally. "It is difficult to become excited."

I felt like I was blushing all over but looking down my skin remained white. My eyes at the ground, I could see for myself he was right; I was straight-up straight-down with narrow hips and the stick legs of a child. I had never prided myself on being attractive but oh! To hear him say it! There was no malice there, no motive to insult behind his words, but only this bluntness which was worse. It was a dull disappointment - oh. I see they have sent me a child when I longed for a woman. I hated him then. What a vile man - what a cruel world to trap me here, where I had no retribution. All I could do was knit it inside me, fortify the iron core of my will. Women must be strong, my mother had said, to survive the storms they get caught up in.

"I suppose you know how this works?" he said, arms crossed. I suddenly got the feeling he was delaying the moment as well.

"I - well. Sort of," I said. "I know the, ah, mechanics." I had seen horses mating plenty of times and dogs at it in the yard so there was no mystery there. I was not exactly clear on how exactly in translated to people though.

"And your mother never mentioned anything else - how to please a man with your mouth, say? You know, to get things started?"

"My mouth?!" I repeated, without thinking to keep the absolute shock of it from my voice.

"I'm guessing not then." He took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. I'll pretend you're somebody else."

"I'll do the same for you," I said, but it came out rather a squeak because he was now advancing towards me and it was going to happen, whatever 'it' really encompassed and it was all too scary, too absolutely terrifying, too nerve-quaking, to allow me to speak properly.