Poc Oc - Tumblr Posts

WOW LOOKIE! I did

AN ARTS!

Clara is gaining a new theme and now has ombré in her locks, they so pretty

Bad bitch in a bandana

(Noise added over to prevent/damage ai theft)

This is my oc Lilith I’m doing some work to set up commissions and they’ll be my bust example…pretty lady.

I need to work on her story man I love her so much

Like a Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

A Robb Stark x Yi Ti fem!OC/Reader & GOT AU Fic

Chapter One: Farewell/Goodbye

Next Chapter

Author's Note: Hello, so I am very new to writing fanfiction, and also I have never read any of the books, but I have done a lot of research. This fic will be mostly based on the show Game of Thrones, but it will take elements from the books (especially for the characters Euron Greyjoy and Stannis Baratheon). Also there is practically no information of the language/culture of Yi Ti according to GRRM. So taking in mind that it is supposed to be inspired by "Imperial China," I used simplified Mandarin because while I do think Cantonese would be better considering how the geography is inspired by southeastern China, I need pinyin and can only speak Mandarin. I will offer translations at the bottom. Also for the names, I am not perfectly clear how they work so I basically tried to make a name using characters that I felt would have a lot of impact together.

Warning(s): This fanfiction will include dark themes of the following: sexual content, sexual abuse, violence and violent themes, child trafficking, depression, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes. (Please comment if I had missed anything)

“I made it… I actually made it.” I thought to myself as I slumped onto the deck, relief flooding my body as my legs start to give out in exhaustion. I managed to get onto the ship just before it left the dock. I close my eyes and try to breath as waves rock me back and forth like a never-ending pendulum. The last time I had been on a ship felt like several lifetimes ago, although I supposed that it was true in more ways than one. For as I had so fervently sworn to never step foot onto another ship, I could not deny that a part of my heart was soothed by the familiar cries of gulls, the thundering orders of those and command, and the waves crashing against the wood of a vessel completely at its mercy. Still, I felt myself turning green, and soon 黛玉 (Dài yù) is curling up next to me, offering much needed comfort. I curl myself around her, and breathe in her fur. Her fur, whether dry from a nearby fire or soaked in red life, smells of cypress, smoked sandalwood, and spices. It reminds me of Winterfell, of the North, of my second home. Once again, I thank Lord Stark in allowing me to keep my sweet shadowcat when I found her as an orphaned kitten from a band of poachers that had already killed her family and intended to skin them for profit. As I continued to stroke her luscious black and white striped fur, I felt 黛玉's (Dài yù) deep purrs turn to breathing becoming deeper and more consistent to signal she was about to sleep. And just when I was about to do the same, hoping for sleep to be dreamless, I heard my name being shouted out in pure agony.

“龙力 (Lóng lì)!” My head shot up while 黛玉 (Dài yù) immediately became alert and ready to strike any figures that posed a danger to us. I turned my head to look at the dock we just left, and to my horror I found a figure so far that he might have been a trick of light. But I remember those eyes, those clear blue eyes. Eyes despite their clarity, were filled with more fury than any storm I had witnessed out in the seas. Eyes belonging to a figure that once stood tall looked broken and defeated, as if their shoulders had been burdened by the gods themselves, although I supposed in a way they had. Next to him was direwolf the size of a small horse holding his head high, and howled so forlornly as if the ship was a floating pyre.

“Robb.” I croak out, my voice sounded so unfamiliar to me. I tried to look away, but I knew if I did, I would never forgive myself. So, I gazed into his eyes trying to shout out every apology I could think of, begging for his forgiveness. When his figure disappeared, I turned around and let out a sob I didn’t realize was there. I curled into myself, reach to my necklace and grasp on the black pendant and pray to any god that would listen. 黛玉 (Dài yù) mewled softly before laying her head on top of mine, even wrapping her arms around me, as if she were a mother soothing a weeping child. I could not bear to see her blue eyes, so frozen yet alive with winter fire. I knew that sleep would never come for me tonight. So instead, I prayed that Robb would not let his impulsiveness cloud his judgement, that he will only focus on the war and freeing the North. I prayed that he will forget me and move on to find happiness of his own and to grow old and happy with a good woman by his side and his siblings all together. But above all, I prayed that he would let me go and let me be free. I do this until my mind blacks out, and a memory had played out as if I was a spectator to moment that did not belong to me.

~Flashback of 7 ago~

“龙力 (Lóng lì),” I decided, gazing at the stone turned dragon pendant handed to me, knowing the confusion that must be filling Robb Stark’s eyes, “my family name is 王 (Wáng), but my first name will be 龙力.” My parents’ sweet “小玉 (Xiao Yu)” no longer existed, she her lullabies were gone forever, but she will never forgotten, not her nor her parents, never again. But “龙 (Lóng)” had taken her place, it was born from the anguish of the small jade in order to a dragon that clawed out of anguish.  “龙 (Lóng)” was a dragon, and dragons carried a magic within them that could never die, not even when the world demanded it. My grandmother was partly right, I was not born a dragon, I was but I was made into one. As for “力 (Lì)”, that would be something of my own. “力 (Lì)” was a testament to my strength. Even before being a dragon, I was strong. I had a strength of my own that belonged to no one but me. And although it had been cracked and broken down repeatedly, it remained. The events forced upon me to realize that strength, however unfortunate, will not go unrewarded.  This pendent was evidence of that, that if a piece of jade can transform and be molded into a strong dragon, then so can I.

I turn and face Robb Stark, the boy I thought was a spoiled and obnoxious brat that had everything handed to him while so many others claw for just a scrap of his fortune, and give him the first hug that I have given anyone since my parents died. I hold for so long and tight that he has to push me away for air. I smiled with tears almost spilling from my eyes, happiness overtaking me for the first time in what felt like a lifetime ago. I kissed both his cheeks, and he turned so red that he tried to sputter out a response, but I beat him to do it.

“王龙力 (Wang Long Li),” I beamed so brightly, “that will be my name. I finally have decided on my name, it is the only thing that was not given to me but what I gave to myself. It is important, too important, but you deserve to be the first to know. I will wear this forever, thank you so much. Thank you so much.” I hugged him once more, and felt his arms wrap around me before tightening and even saw the tips of his ears turning bright red before Maester Luwin came upon us and I showed him my pendent and told him my name. I didn’t have to tell him the meaning of a name, his smile told me enough.

~Flashback Ends~

Waking up I realized that I was still grasping on the black pendant as if it was the only thing that kept me from falling completely apart. I should have left it behind, but I knew it wasn’t a possibility. If I had to take only one thing that could possibly link me to my past, from the youthful joy and spilled blood in Yi Ti, to the beautiful hope and horrendous tragedies in Winterfell, I couldn’t leave it. This pendent meant far too much, for it alone was the sole witness to my life (past, present, and soon-to-be future). It had seen every moment in the life of that once naïve and sweet 小玉 (Xiǎoyù) that played along the warm breezes of the Jade Seas, the 小玉 (Xiǎoyù) that laughed to her parent’s singing songs of the Jade Emperor, the same one that witnessed her family’s slaughter and was stolen away until she no longer laughed, no longer smiled, and eventually forgotten her own voice. The precious and rare black jade that was eventually picked from the pockets of tattered rags to be used as a paperweight by Euron Greyjoy, forgotten by the shadow of a girl who was robbed of every joy and security that should have been her right from birth. A girl who became so broken, who’s soul became so lost, she carved through men with her knifes with such masterful and impassioned fervor and searched through the gashes with such sober and languid eyes to see if she could find hers in their bodies.

But it also witnessed the gaining of her strength, starting at the glimmer of remembrance in hearing an old lullaby sung by a mother with features similar to her own. Every time she snuck away to hear the woman sing, her eyes daring to show wistfulness as opposed to chilling apathy, the black jade could feel the little girl that was constantly struck down finally begin to stand and walk again. Every step that the girl took, the black jade that lost its luster from being forgotten had slowly regained its shine. Even when the kind woman that sung so sweetly was broken in, taken by the wicked pirate’s men and himself, her face with warm eyes and tender smiles, was mutilated beyond recognition, the girl did not fall again. Instead, her eyes held righteous fury and body was fueled by liquid lightning. Quick were her hands in drugging those men, meticulous and masterful were her fingers in slicing through their facial nerves, cruel glee dancing in her eyes as they could make no sound but knowing they felt everything, the sheer intensity and determination of her strength in hoisting their bodies underneath the sail’s pole. So easily could the black jade remain forgotten, once more losing its luster and shine, but the girl had decided that she would no longer forget the little girl in Yi Ti. Because although that girl was gone, dying the day she was sold in Qarth, she knew that the girl still deserved to be remembered, as did the people she loved that died with that girl.

With that decision, this new girl took only a blanket and the jade before changing into a pair of breeches and tunic that sagged over her body to prevent any suspicion of her sex, left Euron Greyjoy to venture to a new place. A place where she would meet a kind and good man, one who she would gladly devote her life in serving and protecting. She would meet his family, his wife and children. A wife that would take one look at the girl, and think her too savage and wild. But knowing in her heart that the girl was someone who would torture herself before letting any harm befalling her family. Children, all so different yet each one had a foundation of wildness, and were raised with so much unconditional love and loyalty that witnessing it had quickly thawed the suspicious girl’s icy walls. A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister. A place where she who had sea water in her veins, was not born in the biting inland North but the tropical breezes from the Jade Seas, slowly rebuilt herself from the ground up and fortified her soul with new memories, new happiness, and most of all, a new name. A name she gave herself, with the help of a boy with auburn curls and blue crystalline eyes that shimmered with wide smiles as he gave her the greatest gift that she vowed to carry with her so long as she breathed.

I let out a shaky breath as I once more closed my eyes and began to pray. I never prayed so much in my life before now. I was never one to pray, never one to truly believe in higher beings despite the stories of ancient and powerful magic I heard as a girl that I once believed in, the same stories I told to Bran and Rickon when they entered my rooms to protect them from nightmares. But my grandmother told me that there is usually no point in praying to the gods, because the gods never listen, and if they do, they will often do the opposite just to spite you. She said they had already laid out plans, and we were at their mercy without hope to change it. But maybe just this once, she was wrong. But maybe there are gods that listen, that will hear this unworthy girl’s prayer, that might grant her this one thing. I always thought I was a good granddaughter, always following and listening to my grandmother’s words.

I should have listened better.

*Switching POV’s to Robb*

As the Young Wolf stood there on the port, watching as the ship that carried his love farther and farther away from his arms, looking more and more like the broken boy that cried his heart out when his father died and less and less like the shapeshifting King that tore apart his enemies in the battlefield sung amongst smallfolk across Westeros.

“Your grace, do you want us to commandeer that ship in order to search for the fugitive? It isn’t too late; we can still hope to catch up to it if we use a galley with our strongest men.” Smalljon Umber tried listing off other ways to get to the ship, and was more than ready to do it himself. But Robb knew that doing so would be of no help to him. He knew what game his lady was playing, and he will let her think she had the upper hand for now.

“No.” Robb steeled himself into his full height and once more became the Young Wolf feared in the South. His eyes no longer full of sorrow as they just moments before, now they were filled with ice and a cold fire that looked it would burn you as horribly as it would freeze you in an instant should you be so unfortunate as to touch it. “Now we continue with our goal, marching to King’s Landing and littering the South with Lannister dead until they acknowledge the North’s independence and free my sister Sansa.” Gone was the naïve lovestruck boy, and in his place had risen a hardened leader that had a blade hungry for blood and screams. “But first we gather up the Frey’s and Bolton’s and call for their execution immediately. When Walder Frey’s and Roose Bolton’s heads are separated from their necks, I intend to make them gifts to Tywin Lannister.”

“Fly, fly, fly little dragon,” Robb’s mind hiding the dark whispers swirling in his head. “Fly as far as you can, but know that you will never escape the wolf you cheated.” Anger and fury had further cemented in his bones with each step he took to his steed. He realized long ago his feeling for his cruel lady love. He was enchanted by Talisa’s warmth and kindness, believing that she could be enough to thaw away your bitter chill. But it was all for naught, for nothing could replace you. He should have known this the moment he set his eyes on you when his father first brought you to Winterfell all sullen and feral but strong and determined. When bitterness and jealousy filled him as he heard you laughing at Theon’s stories and saw you two sitting together at dinner. When he caught you gazing at your black rock that you protected so fiercely and he longed to have you feel that way towards him.

“Ah yes, her precious stone,” Robb almost smiled as he remembered one of his most treasured memories, as it was the first time you truly smiled and it was the day you decided your name, “how could possibly forget that day?”

~Flashback to 7 years ago~

“My grandmother gave it to me,” your accent still a little thick when talking in Common Tongue, but you were making extremely good progress according to Maester Luwin, “she said that I would need it one day in order to protect me.”

“Why? Father won’t let anything happen to you while in Winterfell.” Robb thought this obvious, for his father was the strongest and most powerful man in all of the North, and it filled him immense pride and joy in being his son. His father was good and honorable man, one who always kept his promises to each and every one of his people as the Lord of Winterfell. “He promised you when you got here that no one would ever harm you so long you lived under the protection of the Starks.”

“I know all that,” you stated as you rolled your eyes. Of course, you knew that Lord Stark would keep his promise in keeping you safe, as Ned Stark was likely the best man in the world. “But I think it’s for something different, something bigger.”

“What do you mean by ‘bigger’?”

“I am not sure, but all I know is that my grandmother said that this stone would protect me when I would need it most. She said that this particular form of jade was only precious for those who needed it for its magic.”

“Magic?” Robb now rolled his eyes; you were trying to trick him. “That’s what old people tell kids in order for them to behave and not run in passageways and not track mud into the keep.”

“She said that it would lead me to my fate, to a place full of snow and ice and water with little green in the North.” Your eyes had a far-off look; your eyes only looked like that when you were remembering something. Robb hoped it was something good. “She told me that there was a role I had to play in this place, and that the jade would lead me to it.”

“But how will it protect you?” Robb was quickly growing irate. How could a measly stone protect you better than his father, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North? A role that he will take over as his heir, making you also under his protection.

“She said that jade protects your spirit and mind from harmful forces, but I must carry it with me and never forget it. Otherwise, it will lose its power.”

“But why does it need to be black? Can’t it do its job if it were white or grey?”

You shook your head. “She told me that it had to be black. In Yi Ti, black is the color of the North, and the North’s element is water, so that means black is the color for water in the North. I think…I’m not sure what she meant, 妈妈爸爸说她喜欢...” you paused as you realized you were speaking in your native tongue; your cheeks grew flushed in embarrassment. Robb pretended that the rosy hue didn’t look the least bit adorable, “I mean, my mama and papa said she liked to…babble I think you call it? But what I do know that it is too important and I need to carry it with me.” Your voice quieted down as faint footsteps crunch the snow behind you only to find Maester Luwin. Deciding that you were done speaking, you stood up and ran to him to see if he could spend some extra time with you how to read and write out Common Tongue.

In that moment, Robb had the most brilliant idea in the world. Truth be told, the preparations alone were remarkably tedious and was probably more trouble than it was worth for a girl Robb had known for a fairly short period of time. It took weeks of searching the castle town to see if any of the jewelers had even heard of “black jade,” let alone worked with it. It was by some miracle only performed by the gods that he half stumbled upon an elderly near blind carver that once apprenticed under a master jeweler who dedicated his life in studying the different practices across the world in the slums. However, Robb was not so young and green to life to expect such luck to spring in his path without something else in demand. But the old man simply asked the chance to meet the wearer of the finished product so that he may see the face of the person who captured the young heir’s heart.

“Though my eyes have almost lost their sight, make no mistake that this old man had lived long enough to know that those in your position would not go so far for someone that did not mean a great deal to you.” He spoke so softly as if witnessing a memory unraveling before him. “And if I had the fortune of my sight, I am sure that your eyes would betray what you deny.”

It took great efforts separating the stone from you, and Robb truly feared for his life if you found out it was him that took it before the product was completed. Thankfully, the old man was a master craftsman, with tools made of bone and fingers so nimble and quick you would never think the man blind at all. When Robb had presented the dragon pendent to you, you first lashed at him something fierce, but in seeing the work had your words failed you. When your eyes lit up and you hugged him so tightly that he thought all the wind had left him, Robb found himself unable to speak. When you had been pushed so that he could breathe, but kissed his cheeks with tears in your eyes, did Robb hear his heart beat at an ungodly pace. Finally, when you had gifted him your name with happiness in your voice, when you chose him to be the first to know your name, did Robb realize that from that day forward, he loved you. He knew you to be the keeper of his heart and soul since he was a lad to when he would become a man.

~End of Flashback~

When he had first awoken from his injuries, barely able to breathe, and you were sitting next to him. Your eyes were filled with glee as you reached for his waterskin and tipped it so gently and carefully to not spill on his wounds. As laid on his cot, cursing himself for falling for such a trap and endangering his men and causing the death of his wife and unborn child. You said no words, only when you so lovingly placed your arms around his neck, allowing his head to rest on your shoulder, did he fall silent. He sat up and held you against him with both arms as you laid tender kisses in his hair. When he looked into your eyes, and begged you to kiss him as he wanted you to for as so long, and though your eyes were uncertain you laid him down on his back, and placed your lips upon his. In that moment Robb’s world felt so whole and happiness had filled so completely that tears escaped and a sob of pure joy was choked out. He knew that he was yours, he always had been, but finally you were his. How happy he was when you pulled away and smiled down at him so sweetly, and you told him to rest so that he can gain strength to fight for his kingdom, his people, his family. How deliriously in love was he in doing exactly as you asked.

And imagine the confusion he felt when he had awoken expecting you by side, only to be met with his lost little sister Arya and his mother. Imagine the fear in hearing how you had left the camp as part of a deal to save him and his men. Imagine the betrayal coursing through him learning that you drugged the water you placed on his lips with a powerful drug that would put him in a heavy sleep that was meant to last a week rather than only 3 days. Imagine the unadulterated fury filling his body as he quickly dressed and called for his steed and Grey Wind to track your scent. And imagine how his heart broke watching the ship being released from its dock, and in a final act of desperation to see your face, he called out your name as Grey Wind let out an ear-shattering howl. Imagine the joy he felt seeing your body turn and your eyes gazed into one another, knowing you hadn’t expected to find you so quickly.

“You will run, you will hide, you can do whatever it takes to be away from me. It will not matter, for in the end I will find you.” Robb’s vow was further his cemented as he rode closer to his camp, ready were the words to carry out the traitors’ executions. “You thought you could escape your wolf, when really all you did was prolong your inevitable fate as his future queen.” Robb’s teeth clenched as he thought this, how stupid you were indeed. To think he would ever let you go now that he tasted your lips, felt your body pressed against his chest, saw your sweet smile as you laid him down to rest. Oh, what he planned to do to you the moment you were in his arms, his cock grew strained and he could feel it leaking at just the thought of him claiming you. He relished at the thought of gazing upon your naked body, laying kisses and bites upon your collarbone and neck for the world to see. He was desperate to suck and nip your breasts as he plays with your soaked cunt with his thick fingers. He could see it so perfectly, you begging for him to mate with you like the bitch in heat you are, begging for his thick cock to ruin you for anyone who even thinks to look at you. How you mewl so obscenely as he slowly slides his throbbing member into your tight heat. Once he is fully sheathed into your wet cunt, and his tip kisses the entrance of your womb, as he intends to go at an ungodly pace with you at his mercy begging to be filled by his pups. How happy you are when he releases load into your womb and praying to the gods old and new that you can be blessed with a child immediately. And how he intends to do so over and over and over until his name is the only thing you can remember.

Translations:

黛玉 (Dài yù): Black Jade

龙力 (Lóng lì): Dragon Force

王 (Wáng): king, but in this context of the story, it just serves as a very common surname

小玉 (Xiǎoyù): Little Jade

妈妈爸爸说她喜欢... (Māmā bàba shuō tā xǐhuān...): Mom and Dad say she likes to...

Please be kind as this is the first fanfic and smut I have even written, but still please like, comment, and reblog!!!

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

Chapter 2: You are my Best Friend, the Family I Chose, the Home I Found

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: The Reader/OC will be mentioned but not written in this chapter, but she will make an appearance in the next one. I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but please comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! Also the OC's name and her pet's name are not in Mandarin but in Romanization because the characters in this chapter are thinking in English.

Also many thanks and love to @valeskafics as my beta! Check out her work if you don't follow her already, she's amazing!

Warnings: sexual content, sexual abuse, mentions of SA and r*pe but no descriptions, violence and violent themes, depression, suicidal actions, mentions of PTSD & survivor's guilt, offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes.

Previously in “Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered”:

“A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister.”

Theon’s POV:

Theon Greyjoy was somewhat of an enigma to most people, and to himself if he dared to be honest. He was known as Robb Stark’s best friend and brother, but Gods Old and New help him if he forgot that he was young Lord’s, no sorry, the young King’s inferior. He was the rakish and obnoxious ward graciously taken in by the honorable Eddard Stark, late Lord of Winterfell and House Stark, Warden of the North. But the term “ward” doesn’t hide the fact that he was their captive, their hostage. A hostage who at the age of ten, was robbed from his family, his culture, his home, after witnessing hundreds of Iron Island sailors and civilians being completely annihilated, just to be plopped down in the middle of a frozen mainland where no one likes him. Ned Stark may never have beaten him, but that didn’t mean the fact that he could with full jurisdiction send Theon to the gallows with a single word, and no one would bat an eye. He was supposed to an Ironborn, except he wasn’t, not since he lived amongst mainlanders for the past decade. He wasn’t a Northerner and couldn’t be a Stark, and he certainly wasn’t an Ironborn and he despised being a Greyjoy. He wished he wasn’t one the moment he stepped foot on the mainland, since he was brought to Winterfell, since he felt the gaze Lady Catelyn Stark’s cold and righteous eyes. But by the Drowned Man, he never hated his family name so much until he knew you.

Oh gods, you. He couldn’t help the sheer pride and love in his smile thinking about you, even in his sorry state. Because despite how his body still healing from the wounds brought by the ambushed arrows, the pure elation and shock from you storming the shit-stained Frey keep with five-thousand men (if he wasn’t so fucking plastered, he would’ve cried) and saving Robb and most of their asses, with minimal losses of only 157 men 158 if you include Talisa. You had even managed to subdue both Roose Bolton and Walder Frey before dragging their asses to the prison cells, along with the rest of their traitorous kin. However, there wasn’t time to celebrate their (really your) victory as you immediately put everyone to work. For someone who worked in the shadows, you looked so natural in organizing the camp to sections reserved for healing those who survived, and preparing the burials for those whose lives were lost. After that, you rushed every lord whose mind was just lucid enough in the largest empty tent. You insisted that finding whoever assisted the Frey’s in this ordeal, as Walder Frey may have been a vile greedy cunt, he wasn’t a tactical mastermind. And while Roose Bolton was an apathetic amoral sociopath, he could never possess the imagination for something so grand scale. After countless sleepless hours, the pieces were all put together, and ice that froze every lord’s blood in learning that this was a premeditated trap engineered by one fucking Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. The chaos and fury that followed was a sight to be memorized and passed on for years to come, any lost morale before that moment came back by a thousandfold strong. The southern snakes had really done it now, even if the plan had worked, the North would only drawback until they could strike once more. If there was one thing about the North that would always remain true, it was the fact that the North and its men never forget, especially an act as sacrilegious as what they now call the “Red Wedding”.

Every lord was shouting and screaming out blame, whether it be the execution of Lord Karstark, the release of the Kingslayer, the broken oath to the Frey’s, and on and on did they go. They didn’t stop until Lord Umber blamed on Theon for his father’s invasion to the North (despite that 1) he didn’t even know about the bloody invasion, and 2) he never left the fucking camp), and the usually mild-tempered Daiyu leapt on the table and knocked the Greatjon Umber on his great ass in retaliation. The sight of you in command will never leave him, not even when he had forgotten his own name and was too feeble to wipe his own ass. Even in your most irritable state, you dared not publicly showcase your emotions. But everything from the cold fury in your eyes to the raw determination in your spine, was enough to freeze a dragon’s fire. By reminding everyone while nothing can change the past, this event only further proves how there is no limit to the Lannister’s teachery, and that it was imperative to secure the North’s independence from the Southern leeches. You then told them of how you learned of the plan through a deal with a stranger wearing a red tunic and grey cloak, and that if they managed to survive the treachery, they were to immediately send word to Dragonstone.

“Dragonstone,” shouted out Lord after Daiyu grew bored of him and was now contently purring against Theon’s legs as he stood by you, “why in the seven hells would we send word to Dragonstone? So that we can get pissed over by Stannis Baratheon? How do we know you didn’t just make up the deal so that we could bend the knee to Stannis, or perhaps you’ve been working for the Lannister’s with the Boltons and Frey’s? Well? Answer me you chink-”.

Theon drew out his sword the second before he could finish, “You take those words back and beg for my sister’s forgiveness right now before I cut your tongue out and feed it to my falcon, you rancid shit.” Theon could allow disrespect against him, he grown used to it after all; but he would be flayed, eaten by hounds, and broken to a shell of a man before he allowed anyone to utter a word of disrespect to you, let alone that word. Each of the bannerman’s eyes shifted between the men, as most knew better than insult the mysterious spy from the far orient in the presence of the young Kraken. If Theon was not with their king, he was by his sister’s side, arm over her shoulders and her head on his, more often in silence as words were never needed in order to take comfort in one another.

And the girl was no different in her devotion to her brother, as her protection over him was as ruthless as it was creative. More than once had there been instances of soldiers throughout the camp making claims ranging from mad visions in their sleep to horses stampeding them throughout the woods to those who spoke ill of the Stark’s ward. The bannerman would have demanded their king to call for her head hadn’t her punishments been more amusing than irritating. Not that it would have worked, if there was only one thing the two young men had in common, it was the devout protection they showered the stoic spy. Even when the young king broke his oath to the Frey’s to marry his pretty foreign healer, did he remain true in his defense if anything it only grew. Such was the case with his own direwolf, who although remains steadfast in guarding his currently comatose companion, adored the Yi Tish girl far more than the now late queen if they were honest, as he was often seen being petted and fed scraps by her and even playing with her shadowcat. However, they just reasoned it was due to being acquainted with one another since the pup’s arrival at Winterfell shows what they know.

You placed a hand on your brother’s wrist, stopping any further action on his part towards Lord Umber. Theon’s eyes immediately darted down to your hand, and then looked at you. To an outsider, the act would look no different than a scolding to a child; however, those who had watched the two grow together, like one Lady Catelyn Stark, recognized the interaction to be one of the many of silent conversations between the two of you. Her eyes darting down to her late husband’s ward’s wrist, eyeing the rather poorly made charm bracelet you had gifted him for his name day so many years ago. Being a ward to one of the seven great houses, Theon was gifted many precious things, from expertly made blades to fine cloaks; but that little…thing was the item he treasured more than life itself, that and his loyal falcon, Ari. A falcon abandoned by its mother, was found by Theon and was assisted in healing the poor creature by none other than you.

A moment passed, and another had gone by, followed by a few more before Theon reluctantly lowered his arm and sheathed his sword. You turned your gaze to Greatjon once more, hand still holding on your brother’s wrist, before speaking in a loud and clear manner, “I will graciously ignore you accusing that I would ever betray House Stark, even going so far to suggest that I would ever switch loyalties to a southern house I had never cared, but may I first ask you what is the purpose of the North’s campaign to the South?”

“Pah! Aye, I can tell you, to march down to King’s Landing and swing our steel at enough of their piss-haired inbred to free the North-,” Greatjon was interrupted by the slamming of your fist to the table.

“WRONG!” You exclaimed, “Our goal from the beginning, our true purpose was to free our Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters from King’s Landing, and upon his death, we swore to avenge him and rescue his children! Have you forgotten my lords, forgotten Ned Stark, late Lord of Winterfell, the man you swore fealty to when you bent the knee to his house? Now we stand, fighting in a war, leagues from our North, miles from King’s Landing, from his daughter who he loved and cherished so dearly that he confessed to crimes he did not commit in attempt to save her from the lion’s den? Does Ned Stark stand here, does his daughter Lady Sansa? In fighting for the North’s freedom, we had forgotten our first goal, our true purpose! To avenge the blood of House Stark, to fight and protect their children! And as a result, the Gods have punished us for forgetting that purpose to the state we see ourselves in now. We have lost our greatest bargaining chip, half our men in taking Lord Karstark’s head, and now with greater losses in numbers with the betrayal from both House Frey and House Bolton. We may have regained one wolf, but such a miracle cannot be claimed by us as it had been Ser Sandor who brought her home.” Your words brought the attention of Sandor Clegane, who was standing in a corner. He was observing the scene unraveling before, in both shock that you thanked him for his act, and cursing you for bringing any attention at him at all.

“And do not ignore that another young wolf still remains at the lions’ mercy. And if Sandor’s words of her treatment hold truth, then I fear that her livelihood is at more risk than ever when word reaches the Red Keep that Tywin Lannister’s plan had failed.” Your voice grew more somber and quieter as you finished your speech. It seemed as if time had stopped, shame overtook every lord’s and lady’s face at your words, and Lady Catelyn knelt on the ground, sobs overtaking her body. The relief and joy in being reunited with her Arya, was overshadowed by the realization that still had one daughter far from her arms. Greater grief struck her in learning that her sweet Sansa had been routinely beaten and ridiculed at court by Joffery’s orders.

Ever so carefully, you knelt beside her, and gently placed your hand on her shoulder before grasping her to stand while allowing her to take comfort in your strong but gentle grip. You quickly called for a squire to fetch some cool water before handing Lady Stark a simple but clean handkerchief to wipe her tears. Such an act of familiarity to a highborn from a lowly spy would never be tolerated in normal circumstances, but no one dared to point this out, fearing that their Lady would fall apart had it not been for your support. After what seemed to have been an eternity to pass, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island stepped forward.

“The girl is right.” Her voice left no room for argument, “In fighting for our freedom, we had forgotten our people, our past leader, and his own blood. We lost sight of our true goal, and in doing so we allowed ourselves to be vulnerable to our enemies. Right now, Stannis Baratheon is our best hope in retrieving Ned Stark’s daughter. And we need all of the hope we can get, be it in numbers or supplies.” The next words coming out the fierce Mother Bear of House Mormont shook everyone to their core, “I can sacrifice our independence, I can bend the knee to another Southerner, but I cannot call myself a northerner if I forget my oath in avenging the Quiet Wolf, along with Jory Cassel, and the rest of the northern men that died in that rotten keep.”

“But how can expect Stannis to hope true in his word, is he even aware such a deal took place?” Lord Rysell rose from his seat, his voice filled with trepidation. “After all, was it not Stannis who killed Renly, his own brother, his very own blood? How can we expect a Southerner, nay, a KINSLAYER to hold even a weight of honor after witnessing the mutiny we all had barely escaped with our lives? And what of the cost? What was traded for such information?”

“Stannis Baratheon along with Jon Arryn had been running King Robert’s kingdom throughout his entire reign. While Jon Arryn tried to reign in Robert, Stannis was the one who had actually proposed new laws in attempt to benefit the kingdom. This was a man who at age of 17, held his brother’s castle at Storm’s End and ate shoes and rats rather than surrendering to a hopelessly superior army from both land and sea. He, who ensured that his men, smallfolk, and his little brother were fed before him. And more importantly, Stannis has ships, ships that can lay siege to King’s Landing by targeting Blackwater Bay, should he want for an alliance.” Theon couldn’t keep the pride out of his eyes, here you stood, recounting the accomplishment of one man, stunning every lord by your extensive knowledge of military history in perfect clarity. Those hours spent in the Winterfell library and extensive lessons with Maester Luwin seemed to have paid off.

“As for the matter of honor, this war will not be won through honor, no this is war that will be done on the matter of duty.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you braced your body in continuing, “Ned Stark’s duty as Hand of the King was to the kingdom. In choosing his honor, he lost his head. Robb Stark chose love over duty, and it cost him the lives of his wife, his child, and nearly 3000 of our men. Our duty to the North was to avenge Ned Stark’s death and protect his children, and in that we have failed miserably. Whether Stannis Baratheon is honorable remains to be seen, but it was his devotion to his duty had made his men so loyal to him and his enemies call him a man ‘truly just.’ As for the matter of proof, I would hope that this message that bears his seal to provide some comfort.” You hand a creased letter to Catelyn Stark for confirmation. After vigilant investigation, she confirmed that it was indeed written in his hand and that seal bore House Baratheon’s sigil, along with the seal of Dragonstone.

“And I can assure you my lords that the price was more than fair,” your confidence was slowly diminishing as you chose your next words carefully, “all that was asked from the stranger was that I sail from Seagard to a locate an individual and escort them to somewhere Beyond the Wall, afterwards I would be told more details of my mission from there.”

“What comes after you get those details and finish escorting them?” Theon didn’t recognize his own voice. “Do they send you somewhere else, who’s this person, where are you going?” Seven hells, is that panic in his voice? “When do you come back?”

You looked towards your precious brother, eyes trying to convey a hidden message you don’t dare to speak aloud. You take a deep and shaky breath before clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your voice steady and clear, “I don’t.”

And just like that, chaos erupts once more.

Theon doesn’t realize he was asleep before being so rudely pulled out of his dream…memory?

“Well, memory it may have been, but a nightmare to relive it once more.” Theon thought as he tried to focus on his surroundings, before seeing the reason he was awoken in the first place. On his chest, stood a majestic falcon gazing into the eyes of his owner. Despite being a first-class hunter, one would think this bird of prey that feeds on both fish and birds alike by swooping at tremendous speed with little to no sound, was really a smaller parrot if others knew how spoiled Ari was for attention and treats. “Forget Robb, the real challenge will be in keeping this little fellow from going mad from losing his main benefactor,” thought Theon as he lovingly stroked a finger on Ari’s head, the falcon sweetly preening from attention from his beloved savior.

“THEON!” A familiar voice bellowed as the footsteps whom Theon was sure belonged to one auburn-curled king grew louder as they stride closer to his tent.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Knowing what will soon come, I only hope to find a barrel of ale to drown my sorrows in afterwards.” And with that being his final thought before rising from his cot and just finished dressing himself before his tent’s flap flew open, and in came the Young Wolf with a fury so terrible it would bring down the Wall.

Robb’s POV

After arriving at the camp, Robb immediately jumped down his horse and demanded a steward to take care of his steed before he marched forward with only one person in mind, Theon Greyjoy. His father’s ward, his best mate, his brother without blood and in-arms, and the brother to one particular Yi Tish girl that was sailing further and further from where she belonged. If there was one person who knew where she was going, it was Theon. He had to know, Li and Theon had a bond between them. A bond that Robb loathed to admit many times, as it was that bond that could not be easily shattered or poisoned as such with the bonds of mere companions or even lovers. For companions, some periods of time apart would often do the trick, but even on the most drawn-out operations his father sent you out on, time only proved to strengthen the bond as you would return with tales of the people you were sent out to watch, and even come back with small gifts as tokens of fond remembrance. Every single one of those gifts, no matter how often Theon would act as if he were given something burdensome, were treasured and placed inside a wooden box that he secretly commissioned one of keep’s craftsmen to create in order to store them. Even if you two were lovers, however painful that would be for him, it would be of great comfort to Robb knowing that it such affections would one day pass. No matter how great the flames of passion arose, they would usually die out, especially in one’s youth. In your case, hopefully in a way so spectacularly horrendous that it would kill any hope of rekindling those flames ever again. But no, instead you two stubbornly remained siblings, and your bond was that of great platonic love and adoration. It baffled Robb to no end as to why the two of you remained so insistently loyal to one another, but it was the same answer every time Robb brought out his frustrations.

“He is my brother,” you would say without fail. “He is the family I chose to love and cherish, and so I will choose him. I will choose him every time.” You would look directly at him, with your big brown almond-shaped eyes, so warm and frank, as if you were stating so completely plain and obvious to a tempering child.

“Can’t you choose me? I would choose you. I could be your family.” Robb exclaimed in great exasperation at your persistence. After all, why couldn’t he be your family? He who saw how well you played and calmed his younger siblings when he, his mother, his father, and even the septas were too busy; who would always help you whenever you stumbled upon a difficult word that you couldn’t spell or pronounce; who would show you the secrets of the Winterfell Keep that he would not even show to Jon or Theon; he who saw your secret smiles and hidden protection you bestowed upon the many strays and smallfolk children in the village town. By the Seven’s sake, he was to be the Lord of Winterfell and of the North after his father, who better than him to take care of you?

“No,” you stressed out, “No Robb, you couldn’t. You and I could never be each other’s family, not the way that he and I are, not in the way you want us to be.” You looked at him with your eyes, your big, brown, warm, cruel eyes; eyes that looked so genuinely apologetic that it almost made him forget his anger, almost. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Robb was sure that he sounded pathetic, but he needed to know, to understand, why he couldn’t be the one for you. Was it the differing status between you both, did his mother speak ill to you when he and his father were unable to witness it, or was it because you had feelings of love for someone else, someone not him? Oh gods, he could feel his young heart breaking at that final thought.

“Theon and I…”, you tried to find the words that could capture the meanings you didn’t know the words to, words that were not in any of the languages you had learned and spoken, “he and I are bonded. In a way that goes beyond words, beyond simply moments and memories. It is built on an understanding that only the two of us know of, something you have never and I pray that you never will understand, because it is a pain that very few our age knows about, and that is really all I can say of the matter.” With that being the final word, you turned and walked away, leaving the young heir more lost and aggravated than ever.

“Oh Li, my sweet, darling Li.” Robb thought as he admonished your words with tender childing. “How could you be so blind to your so-called brother’s selfish and arrogant ways? Do you not see how he would ruin you, how he would twist your naïve and tender heart with his cunning words and leering eyes?” After all, brother or not, Robb was not as stupid as many would like to him to be. Yes, he would admit that marrying Talisa was in poor taste, especially in letting her believe that she meant far greater to him than her original purpose. A purpose to strictly bring physical comfort and to destress after hard-fought battles, as well as to help him forget that he was to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters and to forget about you. While he had never meant in their affair to go so far, he will admit that he got carried away with her. He got lost in their conversations and banter, in her altruistic warmth and kindness, he allowed himself to give into the idea of championing love and how it would conquer any obstacle set before him. But most of all, he longed for the idea of sharing a love with someone new, someone who didn’t know him from his youth. He wanted to love someone who didn’t know of the many insecurities that plague his mind whenever he planned for his next battle. He pined at the idea of someone who didn’t see the vulnerable boy he hid away to project the undefeated wolf marching towards the lion’s den. He was desperate for the warmth and frankness that would be rewarded to him from a woman whose love was sweet and generous and easy.

Talisa had been all of that, and more, so much more. She was opposite to you in every way, physical and emotional. The only similarity that could be shared between the two of you would be that your hair was dark, but even in that there were too many differences. You had routinely cut your hair to your armpit, whereas Talisa’s hair flowed past her midback. And upon further inspection, one could see very things streaks of silver and grey as a result of stress, meanwhile there were no such signs in his late wife’s dark locks. Both of your faces were beautiful and similar in some features but your beauty differed in hers not only in the regions of birth, but in evidence of treatment. Both of your faces had a straight nose, downward turned lips, and almond-shaped eyes. But Talisa’s elegant and angular visage contained no markings or blemishes of any kind. There were no crow’s feet, or scars. Even after witnessing her most laborious treatments and amputations, did she contain an angelic maturity that would envy the wealthiest of highborn women. Everything about her… her willowy and pliant frame… unblemished reddish hue complexion…angelic lips…legs that stretched for miles and were connected by full hips…all of it in the form of one truly mythic beauty.  

Whereas you…if Talisa’s beauty could be compared to an angel that glowed compassion and wisdom, yours was that of a survivor that radiated the hardships from years of regimented training for an enduring body and great mental fortitude. Your shoulders and rib cage were broad, but your stomach was slim with a taut core. Your arms were a bit trim, but years in learning how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, along with varying combat made them toned and fine. Your calves were strong and thick and they stretched your trouser legs, and while many insisted you looked more man than woman, you relished in their power in action. Your waist was sinched in a way that showed off the fullness in your hips, and perfectly gave way to your marvelous ass that he stared at more times than he likes to admit, especially with Theon’s overly protective gaze following him no matter the time or place. But he had remained respectful in his gaze if you don’t count the number of times, he spied you while swimming in the springs with the sheer small clothes as your only barrier, or when he watched you bathe in your quarters in the secret compartments or whenever he stroked his cock with an unwavering gaze as you rubbed your clit calling out his name.

While Talisa’s skin bared no markings, there seemed not to be a single patch of skin on your outer framework that didn’t contain a fading mark or scar. Even your proportional facial features: with downward lips that usually remained stoic, and straight framed nose that rarely crinkled even when it was red in the harshest of winters, and eyes that seemed unemotional until one paid close attention in order to see the carefully guarded mirth and gentleness that brightly shone in your peace; were littered with marking brought by you whenever you spied a pimple and removed it, letting it bleed and fester before it healed and scarred. This aggravated his mother and sister Sansa to great lengths, especially Sansa as she would insist that you were spoiling your own beauty and that no man would ever want to marry a woman with such awful scars on her face. You would turn to her stating that you would likely never marry in the first place, nor did you want to leave. Marriage would mean leaving Winterfell, the Stark family, and your new friends, including her who gave you your first gift. This shocked and flustered Sansa, as that “first gift” was a poorly embroidered handkerchief she just wanted to throw away, but instead gave it to you. Not long after, Sansa gifted you a much prettier embroidered handkerchief, one that had little blue flowers sewn across the borders. She insisted that you throw out the first, but you told her that she made both, so both were too important. So, you bought a small wooden box from your meager savings, and tucked both away neatly and lovingly. She still chided you something fierce whenever she caught you picking and scratching your own face. But sometimes Robb would pass by Sansa’s chambers, and double back in shock seeing the two of you conversing (well, more akin to Sansa gossiping and fantasizing about the South while you gave monosyllabic responses) on her bed while she practiced braiding your hair.

This brought up the most glaring difference between you and Talisa, although neither of you were born in Westeros, let alone in the North. But Talisa would never, could never be a Northerner, not in the way he and his family were Northerners as they were Starks, not in the way you grew to be a Northerner. She would never be able to adapt to the bitter cold and snow, could never love the harsh and biting winds, take comfort in the fresh air and scent of smoke wood burning in a hearth the way you had when you were brought to Winterfell by his father. There was no doubt that she would be respected, admired even, but the North and its people would never take to her in the way they took to you. You, who after weeks of careful interrogation and healing, took off running in the Godswoods, climbing its trees, breathing in its holy air, sitting before the weirwood tree with no fear as if you knew it your whole life. While it took a good while for you to gain the castle’s staff trust, it hadn’t taken much time for the village folk to look after you, despite being a foreigner who barely spoke the language. Granted there was the occasional drunk and youthful miscreant who still called after you in offensive terms, but they were quickly taken care of by Theon (who was the third in the keep to take you under his wing, after his father and Maester Luwin).

In return for their kindness, you became somewhat of a silent guardian. You made sure that no wild animals harmed anyone, even those who lived outside the village and in the deep forests; ensured that no child was lost after dark, often returning with bitemarks and long bleeding scratches; and fought off cruel men to the women working in the brothels and the barmaids in the Smoking Log. You even went so far as to “educate” the men who crossed your ire with you... somewhat disturbed skillset from the streets of Qarth. These particular teachings brought you much favor with the town’s women, none more so than Ros (who just so happened to your brother’s favorite whore). So much so that she liked to refer to herself as your “best friend,” a sentiment you returned wholeheartedly, as she was one of the few who heard you laugh, not just a giggle, but a full-bellied laugh, and seen you genuinely smile more times than anyone (besides your brother of course and him). And animals, gods. Don’t even mention to Robb about the animals, he could go on and on about how you seemed determined to take in every stray that wondered around aimlessly, hoping for some scraps of food or a place with walls to keep out the cold. In the first year you were brought, Robb could name over a dozen separate occasions you brought in a stray to care for before being found out. His father had hoped that by letting you keep your beloved shadowcat, you would stop this habit. This caused the very opposite of his hopes to happen, as you had no intention to stop taking in every stray that looked you with sad eyes. You only made sure to hide them in more…discreet locations, mostly in Jon’s and Theon’s rooms, as they shared a fondness for a singular cute creature with sad eyes (you).

But even that was not the limit of your protection. You even provided help to the wives whose husbands abuse them in cruelties beyond imagination, to where these men’s cruelties extend to their own children. These circumstances were tricky to say the least, as there was little to be done as the wife and children belonged to her husband and father, as he was usually the main provider of the family. Very few women dared not indicate any signs of abuse to anyone, much less towards his lord father. Robb was in his father’s solar at the time, learning about his future duties when in you barged in, holding a thick stack of evidence and documentation of not only the alleged offenses, but also proof in showing that these women willingly came to you to bring forth justice, knowing that their Lord Eddard Stark could only do so much. Not only that, but you also found evidence of reports of similar offenses being thrown out, meaning that you took the time and energy to fish out the documents from every trash heap in order to properly present your case.

This is where your true talents laid, in your relentless empathy and your perseverance for change. You may hide your heart in guarded walls made of heavily forged iron, but that didn’t take away the fact that you cared, you cared so deeply. You would use the skills you tirelessly trained for the purpose to protect those who cannot demand protection from those in power and cannot afford to bring attention upon themselves. In presenting the evidence, you asked whether this would be enough to request a change in policy regarding the protection of women and children in not only Winterfell, but across the North. Your body in steeled posture, expecting refusal and rejection, froze in shock in hearing that he would immediately establish a new policy regarding the treatment of familial relations, and punishment in violating that policy would result in amputation or beheading. Immediately, you raced across his desk and hugged him so tightly that Ned Stark was sure you had been possessed by a strange benevolent goblin. Noticing your precarious position, you straightened yourself out and apologized profusely before thanking him and swiftly exiting his solar. When brought up to House Stark’s vassal houses, many protested, though none more so than Lord Roose Bolton, as rumors of him leeching and torturing his wife and smallfolk were legendary in infamy. He questioned why such Lord Stark felt it necessary for such a policy to be implemented, but Robb’s father remained firm in keeping your anonymity, knowing you would be targeted for serious punishment if the lords knew of your identity.

“Being a Lord is like being a father, except you have thousands of children and you worry about all of them. The farmers plowing the fields are yours to protect. The charwomen scrubbing the floors, yours to protect. The soldiers you order into battle.” He paused before continuing, “But it seems, I have forgotten what it means to be a father to many others. I have evidence, of hundreds, if not thousands of reports stating the mistreatment by a family head’s hands. Reports that were never brought to me by men I thought I could trust. As Warden of the North, it is my duty to care for these women and their children, but I have failed in my duty. That is why I have created this law, and any violations of this law will be brought to my attention by the official guards of each house’s town. However, any knowledge of these violations going unpunished will be informed to someone else, someone personally placed and hidden that not even your best spies will find. They will be my eyes and ears; they will be my messengers. Should you bring your own twisted sense of justice upon them, I will know, and as you all know, I’ve never been one to use a headsman to do my beheading.” With that being the final word of the matter, Robb’s father dismissed his men, and called for the ravens to carry out the new law across his land. Robb would never forget those words for as long as he lived.

True to his father’s words, reports of these violations were kept in the known, and the Northern houses were expected to carry out the law’s sentences. Wicked men who violently struck their wives and children without proper justification had their hands chopped off. Those who starved their families were thrown into the dungeons without food or comfort for varying periods of time. And vile rapists had public castrations, and were also faced with beheadings. The lords ceaselessly hired the best spies and sellswords to find Ned Stark’s eyes and ears, but nothing came out of it. Soon enough, crimes of not only this offense, but other unrelated offences started to cease. Time continued forward, and the number of reports continuously dwindled until women felt it safe to walk at night without the need of a dagger, children felt it safe to play with outside after dark, and those with wickedness in their hearts learned what it meant to act properly without needing intervention of a higher power.

Smallfolk across the North sung praises to Ned Stark, for his kind and noble heart, for his true sense of justice, for being a man with true honor and knew the meaning of a lord’s duty of his people. But the women and children of Winterfell knew the truth, and it was you they silently revered. After all, only you listened to their cries, to their pain and anguish. You who searched for proof and evidence until the amount grew so great that you knew it could no longer be ignored. Things were not perfect, no far from it, but they were better. They were so much better, and they had you to thank for that. You were their paragon of justice and truth, someone who pushed for action in their lord’s idleness. One young man came up to you in privacy, and cried his thanks. He revealed to you that he and his brother were raped by their mother since their father’s death, but he could not tell anyone the truth, he could not bear the shame. But thanks to you, that wretched cunt was beheaded, and he could finally take his siblings far down south, where they would hopefully find better work and start a better life. You were silent until you carefully asked the young man if you could have his permission to hug him. When he granted it, you carefully and slowly placed your arms around him before both of you were sobbing and wishing good fortune to one another.

“No,” Robb thought as he almost reached Theon’s tent, “Talisa would never be accepted as his queen, not when you had taken the hearts of Winterfell’s inhabitants.” And as much as he felt guilty for her death and how he wouldn’t truly love her, he knew that this was for the best in the long run. Talisa was intelligent, and kind; but the coming winter would be ruthless, and her warmth would be swept out long before spring would arrive. He did mourn for his child, but he knew that with you by his side, there would be plenty of opportunities to create new heirs, and soon enough Winterfell will be run amok by little wolf pups and laughter once more. “Even if you do not understand it now, you cannot hide your feelings from your mate, little dragon.” As furious as Robb still was by you running from him, he knew that sooner or later that the two of you would find each other once more, and in finding each other, you would rule by his side as his queen and the North would only prosper in your reign together. A reign that would come a lot sooner than later, if he knew where in the seven hells you were off to.

“THEON!” Robb shouted before he stormed into Theon’s tent, he watched with furious eyes at his oldest friend and greatest enemy when it comes to you as Ari off his shoulder and perched on top of Grey Wind’s head. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flared in barely veiled anger, as he vented out the words, “Where is she?”

“With all due respect, your grace,” Theon quipped out as he began to pour himself some water, inhaling it in a few gulps before continuing, “you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t have the faintest idea of who this ‘she’ would be?”

“Oh, so that’s how he wants to play this out,” Robb thought out as he took a deep breath. He should have known better than to expect Theon Greyjoy of all people to give a straightforward answer. He quickly sent Grey Wind out to guard the tent, and not anyone in before curtly replying, “Don’t act dull. You know exactly whom I am referring to.”

Theon sat at his desk before pretended to ponder with his chin in one hand, and elbow in another, before continuing, “No, no, I’m afraid not, your grace. ‘She’ could really be anyone, would ‘she’ happen to be your mother? No, no, no…how about Arya, or perhaps Sansa? No, Arya just got here, and Sansa’s still not here, no thanks to you…Oh! Might ‘she’ be your late wife? The one who you fucked, then married and got killed- “Robb grabbed his throat before he could continue on, fury finally getting the better of him, and slammed the back of Theon’s head on top of the desk.

“Don’t you start with me Greyjoy,” Robb could barely contain himself, but he knew he had to, if only to get the information of where you were heading. He swallowed his pride before loosening his grip, and spoke his next words through clenched teeth, “Where is Long Li going? Don’t even think of lying to me!”

Theon’s eyes softened at the mention of your name, before whispering out, “Are you demanding an answer as my king?” His eyes and voice hardened to prepare saying the next words without spitting at the man above him, “Or as my brother?”

“Aye, I am your brother, now and always, but right now, I come to demand you answer me,” Robb’s voice grew stronger as he stated his next words, “as the man who intends to take her as my future wife and mother of my children and future heirs.” As he finished speaking, Theon felt anger surge throughout his body, and he gripped Robb’s doublet with both hands and flipped him onto his back.

“What makes you think I know?” Theon venomously spat out with a bit of condescension, “And for that matter, what makes you think that I would ever tell you? The boy who threw duty for love, that’s what everyone’s calling you. And for good reason too. Robb Stark, King in the North, the Young Wolf that never lost a battle, almost got 3000 men killed for love, and did get his wife gutted for it.” Theon let out a mocking laugh Robb, who struggled to get out of his grip, only to remain pinned on the desk. “If it weren’t for Li, we’d all be dead, bodies thrown into the river, rotting at the bottom. And because of you, she’s gone, gone with some mad man who could do anything to her.” Theon could feel his throat constricting, but didn’t bother to restrain his worst fears. He wanted Robb to bleed out more than when Roose Bolton shoved an arrow to his chest, “She could be gutted, maimed, or raped by now, and it’d be all your fault.” Theon released his grip and quickly turned away as he wiped the tears running down his cheeks at the thought of you getting hurt, and him not being there to protect you. Recalling your tearful goodbye, filled with gripping hugs and sweet words, and refusal to acknowledge the fear of never seeing each other again. The thought of you, the only person he truly, completely, and unconditionally loved, gone forever killed him. He tried to not completely fall apart as he remembered the final look you gave him before urging your horse into a gallop to put as much distance between you and the camp on your way to Seagard.

“I begged her to not go. I told her that no duty was worth her, that she’s done enough for others and that she should just stay here, where she could be safe.” He let out a bitter laugh before persisting while pacing around his tent, “But she wouldn’t hear of it, said that she had to go, and worst of all, I couldn’t go with her. She said that she needed me here, to make sure that you had your head an’ wits still with you after you wake up. She told me, ‘Robb’s lost too much already, and you’re his best friend. He just lost the woman he loves and their child, he’s going to need you to keep him grounded more than ever now.’” He poured more water, and swung it back before continuing, “‘Keep you grounded’, yea’ fat load of grounding I did before, eh? No matter what me, your mother, or Li told you…you still married your pretty healer queen, because you thought you were entitled to more happiness than the rest of us. Some king you are, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Theon finally stopped before sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, sounding so tired and small that Robb wouldn’t have believe it was him if he weren’t right in front of him, “My sister is gone and might turn up dead and it’s all your fault, Robb Stark. And even if she’s alive, she can’t come back. You’re a shit king for making her doing this, for everything she did so that you’d and your family be safe.” Theon looked up, tears still streaming down his eyes, and stared directly at Robb as he scoffed out the next words, “She left feeling guilty, for so many things, all out of her control. First, for being too weak and injured to outfight the Tarth bitch; second, for not guarding those Lannister boys well enough, and the final part? The last’s the worst ten times over, because she thinks it’s her fault that Talisa and your child got murdered, that if she were just a little quicker and a little smarter and a little better, she’d get there earlier and both of them would make it out breathing. She almost went mad over it you know. I almost had to talk her out of throwing herself off the fucking Frey bridge, as if she hadn’t lost enough of her sanity already.” Both of them went silent after that, only until Robb walked over and sat by Theon and broke the tense silence.

“I didn’t love Talisa,” he rasped out, “I thought I did, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” He looked at his feet, shame overtaking him as he only just realizes what Theon had lost as a result of his selfishness. “I cared for her, I loved our child, but I didn’t love her. I couldn’t, not when I already love Li, not how I will always love Li.”

“I know,” Theon responded, “I know.” Because while he was still angry, he knew Robb was genuinely sorry, even if he was an entitled prick.

“So,” Robb looked over to ask his old friend, “what happens now?”

Theon took in a deep breath, eyes closed in careful thought before answering, “We get out of this tent, execute some Bolton’s and Frey’s, meet with the bannermen, and make the preparations to Maidenpool to meet with Stannis to bend the knee or some shit.” He then turned his head to look at Robb with his trademark smirk and quipped out, “But before that last part, we’re going to find the biggest barrel of ale we got, and then drain the whole damned thing.”

Robb barks out a quick laugh, and tries to grip himself together in saying, “Perfect, what comes after the ale and before Maidenpool?”

“After the ale, we fight some more, drink some more, and then probably piss ourselves in our sleep.” Theon lists off before the two young men erupt in laughter, both tired of being mad at their best friend. “And before you ask, we’re meeting Stannis at Maidenpool because we got no bloody ships, and it’s going to be you, me, Arya, and Blackfish.” He saw the confused look in Robb’s eyes before going on, “The note asked for me specifically, probably to call me out for treason in being a Greyjoy or something. You’re coming because you’re the King in the North, Arya because two Starks are better than one in this case and your mother is in no state to continue on, my guess is that the bannermen probably want to send her back to Winterfell. And Blackfish is going because he’s a Tully of Riverrun, but he’s not your fuckup Uncle Edmure Tully of Riverrun.”

Robb chuckled out, “Aye, at least he’s not Edmure. And it’d be good for my mother to return to Winterfell, she likely wants to see Bran and Rickon more than she wants to see Sansa.” Satisfied with everything out in the open, the two men got up and called for their animal companions who guarded the tent from onlookers as they had their squabble.

“Come on now,” Theon slapped his king’s back as Ari flew to his right shoulder, “let’s spill some traitor blood and finish this meeting quick. Ale waits for no one.” And Robb laughed and smiled, remembering how good it felt to be laughing with Theon like he had in Winterfell. When everything was alright, his father alive and well, his sisters bickering but together, his mother with all her children, him with Jon and Theon in the training yard teaching Bran and Rickon how to shoot. No war to fight, no battles to be won, and most importantly, you were still by his side.

Please like, reblog, or comment your opinions if you want to, but please remain respectful. If I missed any warnings, let me know.

...Should I make Druig a dad w/ Katey (that's what Hecate!Eternal goes by, but it's still you ig?) with twin girls when the gang arrives...or is that too much?

Because I already got the names, powers, and personalities picked out: They are 4 in this.

Laoise (Light Manipulator & Solar Magic; very energetic & social butterfly, loves sneak attacks, very hands-on learner; the older twin so she is very close and protective of her baby sister; Nicknames: Little Dove, Our Dawn, Mighty Warrior, Little Light, Our Sun)

Aisling (Dream Prophet & Lunar Magic; more quiet and introverted, loves to hang in her mom's magical library & the Amazon medical hut, go-to lie detector; being the younger twin, she is shy but her big sister always reassures her that she is brave; Nicknames: Little Nightingale, Little Seer, Mini-Librarian, Sweet Thinker, Our Moon)

Both girls have Druig's eyes & dimples & freckles; but Laoise has his brown curls that are lighter with slight highlights, while Aisling's is much darker and slightly wavy. Both like to wear it long and loose, but will wear it up if it is done by their mom and dad.

Both are extremely close to their parents, and see your and Druig's relationship as gold standard, and hope for that in their future. They grew up watching how you two were still separate individuals, but a powerful unit. They witnessed every gentle kiss and tight embrace, every loving gaze and soft smile, all the whispers of love and reassurance, and the overwhelming love and respect you two held for one another.

They don't really ask their Aunt Sephie about love because one time they did, and she got really quiet. She was still smiling, but her eyes became sad, as if she was remembering a certain blue-eyed friend with a silver streak in his hair who would keep her secrets and held her heart.

There are 2 other kids, both you and Druig's biological kids, but you pretty much adopted them. They are both

Damian, it was a name he gave himself. He was born in what is now Pakistan but was sold to Turkish military. He was sold into the army and trained since birth to be a soldier. At 20, he was then killed by order of his commanding officer, and resurrected as a "Div or Dev". He was then given a very strict and formal education: learning many languages and varied skills. His favorite that he picked up was drawing and painting. The only person who treated him with kindness was Shireen, a servant girl who was mistreated due to having survived leprosy as a child. He pitied the little girl for being assigned to a killer, but she always reassured him that she was happy to be his friend. In response to her kindness, he offered to teach her how to read and write. When he learned of her death, he collected her ashes and killed everyone involved in her death before escaping to look for anyone who could revive her. Shireen was born into poverty, she doesn't remember much of her past. She remembers that she was sick for a very long time before recovering. But after she recovered, her mother started to yell for anything. Not only that, but she would beat and ignore her too. She cried at night asking why Allah would curse her with such a hideous child; it wasn't long until she disappeared. Shireen knew her mother was cruel to her, but she still loved her. A man would find her on the streets, and told her that she was sold to them. She was assigned to be the Div's servant. The other servants would tell her horrible stories about him: saying that he would tear her limb from limb, pluck out her eyes, and drink her blood. But she quickly discovered that wasn't true. She also remembered dying, and being lost. But soon she woke up...only...with wings?

Dear God, I have absolutely ZERO self-control.

Tagging: @spacetalbot, @valeskafics, @beananacake

Found family, but with the thickest layer of racial context in it. That's it, that's the trope.

Well, I try to focus on my projects of creating and deepening the history of my ocs and taking away the shame of showing their lore and telling you a little about them, so I made a fix on this slasher oc of mine that I've been focusing a lot on him and then I made a description for him

I know the drawing wasn't one of the best things but it turned out like this

( ignore the grammar errors and contradictions in ângel's description )

Tradução:

bom, tento focar nos meus projetos de criar e aprofundar a história dos meus ocs e tirar a vergonha de mostrar a lore deles e de falar um pouco sobre eles pra vocês, então fiz uma fixa sobre esse meu oc slasher que estive teno foco grande dele e ai fiz uma descrição pra ele

Eu sei que o desenho não ficou uma das melhores coisas mas ficou assim

( ignore os erros de gramáticas e da contradição na descrição de ângel )

"the angelic protector"

here is a new drawing of ângel!

Well, ângel uses this mask so as not to make the children scared when he rescues them from vulnerable situations, and he uses this veil so they don't find out who he is if the victim survives or run away

Tradução:

aqui está um novo desenho do ângel!

bom, ângel usa essa máscara para não assustar as crianças quando for resgatar de situações de vulnerabilidade, e ele usa esse véu para que não descubram quem ele é se a vítima sobreviver ou fugir

I present to you my oc slasher mallgoth!! :D

Tradução:

apresento a voces o meu oc slasher mallgoth! :D

I made another drawing of Ramy and this is him in his killer outfit

Yes, I have another oc slasher but this one in particular has a girl boss vibe

Sorry the description of the drawing is very small, it's just that the space is small and it wouldn't fit much

Tradução:

sim, tenho mais um oc slasher mas este em especifico tem vibe de chefona

desculpa a descrição do desenho estar muito pequena, é que o espaço é pequeno e não caberia muito

"Koneko boy"

this guy with the cat mask is daiki, so he's practically a talking cat sksksksk

Yet again hyper fixating on danganronpa so here’s another oc

Credit to Nachquana on deviant art for the background template https://www.deviantart.com/nachquana/art/NDRV3-Introduction-Template-695474201

Please do not post my art on any other social media without my permission thank you!

deviantart.com

NDRV3 Introduction Template by Nachquana on DeviantArt

NDRV3 Introduction Template by Nachquana on DeviantArt

Got bored and made an Umbrella Academy oc. I think imma name her Zoey

Reposting my drawings of Seth but now colored! Kinda shitty cuz it was like midnight lol but Yknow! close ups under the cut! Reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3