"And so he spoke, and so he spoke

That Lord of Castamere

And now the rains weep o'er his halls

With no one there to hear,"

You sang as you cleaned and prepared the men's armour in the rather large makeshift tent. Winterfell, as well as the North in general, had become especially infamous since the death of the Lord of the North, Eddard Stark, keeping of his daughter, Sansa, in King's Landing, and the disappearance (and presumed death) of his other daughter, Arya.

The higher and more notable muscles in your arms protested as you scrubbed the large plates of armour with the iron wool your small hands grasped. You had never met Ned Stark, but as you took time serving in Robb Stark's army, you wished you had. He seemed to have been a man of great respect, dignity, and honour. From the small bit you knew of the man, you saw how much he had made an imprint on Robb.

You had been serving Robb and his men for a fortnight before you first met him. Your jobs were minimal and simple. Clean their boots, wash their dishes, empty their shit-pots, and clean their armour. Nothing too difficult, but nothing too pleasing or rewarding either; but Robb had been nothing but kind and compassionate towards you, and you were had he known that during your friendship you were receiving swordsmanship lessons from Roose Bolton.

You needed to acquire some sort of self defense. Robb was honourable, he'd never done anything to cause you harm. He was good with a sword, but he definitely wouldn't teach you himself. His men, however, caused a fair share of worry what with their gropes and suggestive remarks. You grew self conscious, and nearly self loathing. Any pride in your body or your sense of self that you held was gone.

Until you started sword training... Roose had offtimes expressed his surprise when you wielded weapons. Compliments he had given ranged from, "you're of more use with that blade than my bastard son," to "I pity the men who make their grabs at you when you're armed."

You became one with nearly any blade you were dealt, and you were even better with bow and arrows. Quickly, Roose became a second father to you. Your father had long since left you behind.

"Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls

And not a soul to hear."

You finished singing, swiping off the last smudge of dirt on the metal plate you held. You smiled at the reflection in the metal, proud of your job.

"That's beautiful," a voice spoke from behind you in the tent, sending you jumping and the metal plate you held flying across the tent.

"Milord! I apologize, you frightened me." You rushed out, watching as Robb crossed the tent and knelt, retrieving the lost metal plate.

"No worries, milady." He smiled, holding out the large metal. You took it with shaky hands, your breath catching as the curly auburn haired Lord sent a smile and a blue-eyed wink your way.

"You honour me, milord." You smiled shyly, watching as he removed his top layer of armour, leaving his greyed leather tunic. He scrunched his eyebrows before removing his greatsword as well, momentarily turning to put it next to the others.

"There's no need for such formalities, Lady Y/N. You've been with us near three fortnights. You may call me Robb." He spoke as he turned around, his eyebrows still furrowed, and his teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

"Is there something the matter milor- Robb?" You stopped yourself from using the formality, his name sounding foreign on your commoner tongue.

"You're a woman of morality, correct Lady Y/N?"

"I'd very much like to think so." You replied, growing nervous at all the roads this conversation could turn down as Robb slowly walked over to you.

"You know of my father, and that bastard Joffrey going back on his word; sending my Lord Father's head off his shoulders in that manner... You've spoken your disdain for this before. But do you think I've gone too far?" He asked you, standing only a hand's width away from you.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, furrowing your brows as he had earlier.

"Capturing the King Slayer, leaving Winterfell, Bran and Rickon, behind... And now? I'm to wed someone whom I've never met because of an agreement with Walder Frey of all people." Robb explained.

"Shouldn't you ask Lady Catelyn about this? Or Lord Bolton?"

"I don't want to talk to my mother or Bolton. That's just it. I've talked to them too much, milady. I know their every desire. I need something new... You've been around me nearly as much they have in the recent days. You're a smart woman. I didn't see harm in asking you."

"Milord...Uhm, Robb, I think you've done exceptionally well considering the position you're in. Everyone in Westeros, and I'd go as far to say Essos as well, knows that Joffrey was wrong in the execution of your Lord Father. Lord Eddard was ready to take the black...A right all of us have in the end."

Robb listened intently, running his fingers through his red beard.

"I don't think you've done anything irrational, Robb." You continued, "Joffrey mustn't have thought that he wouldn't have earned a definite enemy when he removed your Lord Father's head from his shoulders. You have nearly all of the North behind you. The King Slayer thought that he was safe surrounding Riverrun in his posh tents. You and Grey Wind proved him wrong. I believe you can prove Tywin and the rest wrong as well. And surely Bran and Rickon understand that you're only doing what's expected of you."

Robb nodded his head, deep in thought as he carefully examined you.

"I can only hope that they understand. But Bran and Rickon are boys, they're not supposed to understand the dealings of war." He shook his head, resolve crumbling as he remembered the faces of his young brothers. You waited patiently, not wanting to talk without permission. That's what you were taught from a young age.

"I miss my brothers. All of them." He whispered, blinking at you sadly.

"I know you do, Robb. I know. But you're here now. Risking yourself for them and everyone else in the North." You replied wholeheartedly, not breaking away from his gaze. "You're ruling. Rightfully so."

You didn't expect him to cross the room as quickly as he had, connecting his lips with yours in a single and swift movement. You didn't expect the dizziness and flurry of butterflies in your stomach to arise as soon as you'd made contact with Robb.

"I don't want to get married, Lady Y/N. Not to a Frey." Robb breathed out, pulling away from you and running his hands along your cheeks.

"I don't want you to get married either." You chanced, dancing your hands up your Lord's arms and across his broad back. "Not to a Frey."

He smiled at you, unmasking the beautiful teeth he housed beyond his full lips. His eyes glimmered with adoration and you wondered how you hadn't seen him look at you like this before. Surely he had.

The moment was gone as soon as it had begun. Catelyn walked in, scowling once she saw your and Robb's close proximity. You separated from him, becoming interested again in the armour on the table. Robb turned and faced his mother, furrowing his brows in question.

"Lord Bolton and Lord Umber would like to speak with you, if you're done with removing your armour." Lady Catelyn snapped, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you.

You felt dirty. The way she spoke made you feel like dirt. Lady Catelyn was a woman of her word, like Lord Eddard had been a man of his word, and you had no doubt that she had expected the same of her son. Robb being cozy with you would not bode well under Walder Frey's watch, and disappointing Walder Frey could mean Robb losing the war. He was to marry a Frey. Not fool around with a common girl who danced with swords.

"Tell them I should be there soon. I'm finishing this discussion with Lady Y/N." He replied lazily. The war was taking a toll on the young Stark as it progressed, you noted.

Catelyn nodded and turned on her small heels, walking out of the tent as swiftly as she had entered. Robb faced you now, grabbing your hands and waiting for you to meet his gaze. You turned your chin and looked into his blue eyes that always had you mesmerized.

"I don't want to be the king. I don't want to be anything but Robb Stark of Winterfell. You understand that, don't you? I don't want to change." He whispered desperately.

"I do. But I also understand why you're doing it. The North looks up to you, Robb. They don't want some fancy usurper. They want a rightful owner of the iron throne. You fit that title. It's simple." You answered honestly, disobeying your earlier doubts and running your hands along the expanse of his back again.

"Once we win, will you stay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you stay in King's Landing with me, once I win the throne?" Robb clarified, searching your gaze for a tell.

"I don't know. I may, I may not. I've always wanted to do something that gave me a purpose. Like serving on the King's Guard or taking the black myself."

"Women can't take the black." Robb replied, shaking his head lightly.

"I could act." You reasoned, worrying at your bottom lip.

"As soon as they found out you'd be hung or beheaded." Robb shot back, smiling and admiring your passion.

"I'd still at least served my purpose." You argued, arching an eyebrow.

"What would you go for? Ranger, builder or maester?"

"That's easy! Ranger."

"Why?"

"For the adventure, of course."

Robb felt nearly liberated from your answer, as if it itself would lead him to victory. He ran his thumb along your cheek and across your lips, leaning closer and closer down. Until he paused.
"Tell me to stop." He whispered painfully, "tell me to stop and I will turn around and leave this tent right now."

Your head was spinning and your heart was hammering against your chest. You could easily tell him to stop. It'd eliminate any chances of him getting scolded by Catelyn, or Lord Frey. You could end all of this right now and be on with life.

"...No." You whispered back, watching his jaw lock before he pounced.

If lips could kill, Robb would definitely be on the chopping block for murder. His lips were fire on yours, shooting scorches of heat all the way down to your core. His hands went from cupping your chin, gliding down your arms, to your thighs. He rested the calloused skin there, expanding his fingers and then kneading at your skin through your light white dress.

The sudden squeeze from his hands sent a jolt of electricity through your body, adrenaline coursing through you as you let out a small mewl. Robb laughed against your lips, taking advantage of your agape mouth and slipping his tongue through. The old gods were probably looking down on you now, disappointment on their righteous faces. You didn't give a damn.

Fuck Catelyn. Fuck Joffrey. Fuck Ilyn Payne. Fuck the Clegane's. Fuck everyone who wasn't you or Robb Stark.

At first your tongues searched each other's mouths rapidly, eager to find anything that would alleviate the ache building up inside of you. But Robb had somewhere to be, and the kiss returned to a languid pace, disheartening you.

Robb ran his hands back up your sides, ending at your face as he reluctantly pulled away, lidding his lust blown eyes and gazing at you adoringly.

"I have to go speak to Lord Bolton and Lord Umber, do you think you could wait for me in my tent?" He asked, cheeks ablaze with nerves.

"O-of course, Milord." You stuttered, trying to blink your anxiety away.

He smiled at you, kissing you on the cheek and squeezing your hands before heading for the tent's entrance.

"Oh, and Y/N?" he stopped, facing you again.

"Yes?" You asked breathlessly.

"Call me Robb." He restated. Chuckling heartily and taking his leave.

You rushed for his tent after you had cleaned his sword and armour. Tattered ends of your dress trailing behind you, surely building up a fair share of mud. You payed it no attention as you headed to Robb's tent in the moonlit night sky. It was a cold night, no clouds or rain in the sky. You could see all of the stars above you easily, even as you ran, and it took your breath away.

You came to a stop as Robb's large tent sat in front of you. The Stark direwolf sigil resting on two flags on either side of the opening. You gently pushed aside the furs blocking your entrance and stepped in, immediately met with the warmth from candles surrounding you.

His tent was strangely soothing, even with the few things it housed; you supposed that was because it was after all Robb's tent. Your heartbeat picked up its pace as you spied Robb sitting at the large table, his back facing you, in the middle of the tent. No one else was present. It was simply you and him. His head rested in his folded arms, papers scattered in front of him. He had beat you here.

You might have thought him dead had you not heard the snoring. You giggled to yourself, stepping up beside him and running your hands along his shoulders and through his hair. His muscles stiffened in response at the contact, but once he opened his eyes and saw that it was you, he relaxed.

You rubbed your hands against his muscles through his shirt as he shut his eyes again.

"That feels amazing." He groaned.

"It'd feel better if you were without a shirt." You replied. He tensed again before sitting up and removing his shirt in a quick movement. You smiled as he repositioned himself in the wooden chair.

"Go on." He breathed out, leaning into his arms again, and his voice groggy from sleep.

You smiled to yourself before pressing your small but sure hands against his warm skin. Rubbing circles before settling on either shoulder and kneading. Robb moaned at the pleasure that coursed through his bruised and battered body. The pleasureful pain eliciting excitement from deep within him.

"Do you think this marriage will work?" Robb asked after a few silent moments.

"Yes." You answered quickly, regretting the venom in your voice. You thought for a moment and then sighed, "I think your marriage will work. I don't think that it will be one of love."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not letting yourself feel. You're settling because of a war." You shrugged, allowing him to turn and face you. "You made a deal and you intend to keep it, I understand that fully. But you don't get to choose whom you love. Especially not in a marriage like this. The Frey girl you're to wed is a pawn in the grand scheme of winning the iron throne."

Robb digested your thoughts before nodding. He stood up, his naked muscular chest glowing in the candlelight as he strode right in front of you.

"No, you don't get to choose whom you love." He agreed, kissing you with fervor you've never known.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed together as you worked at untying your white gown. You were to the last knot when Robb replaced your working hands with his own, deftly untying it the rest of the way in flickering movements.

You gasped as you felt the cloth fall away from your small frame and cascade towards the ground in cloth waves. The air felt shockingly cool then and nipped at your skin. Icy kisses flowered on your stomach, arms, legs, buttocks, and in between your thighs.

Robb's eyes went numerous shades darker as he took in your candlelit nude body. Craving to taste, touch and worship every inch of you. You grew conscious of just how naked you were under his gaze and moved your arms to cover yourself. Robb's brows furrowed, as they so often did, at your movements. He gently gripped your small wrists, bringing your arms carefully to your sides.

"You're beautiful. You're absolutely breathtaking, Y/N." He whispered, his voice shaking. He reached for your hair that was tied up in a knot, allowing it to fall and trickle down your shoulders in thick Y/H/C ringlets. You felt your cheeks heat up and redden, taking in Robb's towering frame.

You never quite realized just how tall and sturdy Robb was. Or how his hair was an intricate mix of the Stark brown and the Tully red. Or how straight his teeth were. Or how beautiful his pale skin was. Or the crinkles near his eyes when he smiled. And you especially had never really appreciated his full, pink lips.

Robb Stark was the most beautiful human being you'd ever seen.

You stepped towards him, running your hands along his broad chest and through the tufts of chest hair; slowly lowering them until you got to his leather pants. He trembled with anticipation under your touch, biting down on his lower lip as you undid the small clasp. His pants fell easily, revealing his all too impressive sight of the reddened tip shot more adrenaline through your body, and you could tell that your pussy was soaked.

Precum leaked from the slit and you felt heat growing in your pelvis.

Robb took hold of your hands, leading you back into a stance. You stared at each other for a while, completely overwhelmed with emotion and lust. Robb took the first step, leading you to his bed, luxurious furs strewn haphazardly across the top. He laid you down, resting on his side facing you.

"You're beautiful, too." You whispered, peppering open mouthed kisses along his jaw.

Robb shifted so that he was hovering over top of you, his cock head rubbing against your cunt as he adjusted his body. He let his right hand wander up your thigh and across your stomach, setting your skin on fire in its wake. You felt his fingers getting lighter and lighter until they were dragged across your hardened nipples.

He pinched and gently tugged each hardened nub, nearly cumming when he heard your panting and small moans in return. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him down in another wanton kiss. Robb relaxed his jaw, opening his mouth and trailing his tongue down your jawline to your collarbone, the pace agonizingly slow as you squirmed underneath him.

"R-Robb..." You moaned out as he licked swirls around a nipple before taking it fully into his mouth. You breathing hitched and you let out a louder cry. He released the swollen nub before doing the same to the other and then releasing, now sucking on your collarbone and neck.

You were now a complete and utter mess beneath the red headed Lord of the North. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, and you had a tightness in your pelvis that wouldn't let up.

"What is is Y/N? What do you want?" Robb whispered into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

"I- I need you..." You trailed off, arching against him as his cock nestled closer to your pussy.

"What do you need milady?" He taunted, rocking against your tight hole.

"I need you to make love to me. Fuck me. Anything." You rushed out, losing the ability to think as his cock head entered you. Robb turned your face up towards him so you were looking directly into his eyes. He wanted to watch you come undone.

He was going to be the fucking death of you.

You stared at him, your brain a flurry of a million feelings as he bottomed out. He was as breathless as you now, staring into your eyes and seeing oblivion. You clenched around him, urging him to do something. Anything.

He slid halfway out before pushing back in. The rolling of his hips adding to the tightness in your stomach. You discovered the pace he was taking, meeting his thrusts each time. Suddenly Robb pulled all of the way out, the loss of contact making your pussy ache. You were making to protest when he slammed back into you. Pleasure rocked through your body like an earthquake and you let out a sultry moan.

"Fuck! Again, Robb." You pleaded. You nearly burst when he did the motion again, the lower part of his abdomen rubbing against your clit as he rolled against you fervently. You ran your hands down his back, scratching and rubbing as you went. As soon as your hand came into touch with his ass, you squeezed.

Robb moaned delightedly, seeing you come undone underneath him was the best thing he'd ever seen. You were euphoric. Heavenly. His arms held him steady as he continued his thrusts. Yours found their way back up, tangling into his auburn locks and yanking experimentally. Robb let out a guttural moan, thrusting harder than he had before.

You could feel the elastic band in your pelvis growing and growing. Waiting to snap. Robb sensed your closeness, taking his hand and licking his thumb before rubbing circles with it against your swollen clit. You exploded..

Heat seemed to surge throughout your body as the elastic band snapped and you came hard. Ripples of pleasure coursing through your veins. Robb thrusted into you fully a few more times before you felt him spill inside of you as well. He didn't pull out, instead sending a few more languid thrusts and resting inside of you until he was painfully soft.

When he finally pulled out, he laid at your side, wrapping you against his large frame and littering sloppy kisses against your shoulder blade and forehead. Both of you were panting messes, basking together in the postcoital bliss.

"So," He began.

"So?"

"Will you stay? In King's Landing?" He asked, worry seeping back into his mind at the thought of you not being around.

"I'll stay."

You fell asleep dreaming of prideful lions, swords and dire wolves with their heads cut off.