“If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valliant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.” - Sansa, A Storm Of Swords
“I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We’d find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted as much as he had ever wanted anything.” - Jon, A Storm Of Swords
Prompt: Hi :) Can you do a Robb Stark x Reader please? Maybe we see the stages of their relationship as their meeting, their love, their betrothal, their marriage, the pregnancy of the reader, the birth of their child? It’s just an idea and I’m sorry if there are mistakes, I’m French :)
Note: @tiiffanym I really loved this request, so i hope i did it justice!
Robb Stark x reader
When your Parents told you that the
carriage was nearing Winterfell, you felt sick. The closer you got to
Winterfell, the closer you were to your life changing forever. It had been Ned
Stark who had proposed the marriage, and your parents had been delighted. House
Stark and House Y/L/N had been allies for centuries – It made sense to
strengthen that tie.
You were less thrilled about the idea.
You had only ever met Robb once, when you were young, and had no idea as to
what kind of man he might be now. Your mother reassured you that Ned was an
honourable man, and that his son would be to, but it was little help.
As you approached the gates of
Winterfell, you couldn’t deny how beautiful it was; and as Robb Stark took your
arm and helped you out of the carriage, you couldn’t deny that he was beautiful
When you were both on solid ground,
Robb kneeled in front of you, and kissed your hand “Lady Y/n, you are as
beautiful I remember.”
You blushed at the compliment, and
hoped he was as kind a man as his words suggested.
You quickly got used to not only the
North, but to the Stark family. Arya and Rickon were little wolves, constantly
exploring the surrounding forests, returning caked in mud (much to Catelyn’s
chagrin). Sansa had the voice of an angel, Bran was a genius with a bow, and Robb
– well he was just perfect.
The two of you had connected quickly,
and you complemented each other well. Where he was hot headed, you were cool,
he was proud, and you were logical, and you both adored each other.
It had been a month since you had first
arrived in the North, and you had spent most days with Robb, with him showing
you around the castle or riding together around the surrounding grounds of the
You were sat together in the Gods wood
when he first told you that he was in love with you.
You looked up at him in slight shock
before he continued “Y/N, I had always accepted that when I married it would be
out of duty, to create an alliance but…” he paused for a moment “You are like
no one I have ever met. I love you.”
You weren’t sure that you would ever be
able to stop smiling. Your eyes met at you both leaned in to the kiss. When
your lips met his you were certain that Winterfell was where you belonged. That
he was where you belonged.
When you pulled away he let out a sigh
at the lack of contact, so you moved to sit closer to him. Without having to
think he wrapped his arm around your waist. You leaned it his touch.
“I love you too Robb.”
The day you married Robb was one of the
best days of your life. You, like Robb, had never expected to be able to marry
someone that you truly loved. You waited anxiously in the chapels door way.
Arya was fidgeting, pulling at her dress trying to get comfortable.
You were shocked when Arya acquiesced
to being one your bridesmaids, and you suspected that this would be the last
time you ever saw her in a ball gown until her own wedding. Sansa looked like a
Queen, in her bridesmaid dress. You were suddenly overwhelming proud of the two
When you heard the Organ begin to play,
your father took your arm and you began to walk down the aisle. The night
before you had been so nervous that something would go wrong, that you would
trip and fall or something would happen to your dress.
Those fears quickly exited your mind as
soon as you saw Robb. His jaw dropped when he first saw you, and his eyes
filled with tears. You looked stunning. The dress was simple, and fitted you
perfectly, hugging your body in all of the right places.
Your house colours had been sewn
intricately into the hem, and it was better then you could have ever hoped for.
All of the great Northern houses were in attendance, but you barley even
acknowledged them, with all of your attention on Robb.
Robb was grinning besides you as you
both stood in front of the septon. Your soon to be husband slipped his hand
into yours as you exchanged your vows. You squeezed his hand, as you promised
to love him until the day that you died.
The cloak Robb wrapped around you was
beautiful, it had the Stark crest embroidered onto a deep blue background, and
the lining of the cloak was pure white wool. You wondered how many hours it had
taken to craft something so beautiful.
“You many now kiss the bride” called
out the septon, once Robb had wrapped the cloak around you.
Robb cupped your face gently with his
hands and leaned down to kiss you, you flung your arms around his neck and
pressed your body close to his.
When Robb pulled away from you, he
looked like he was so full of love that he might burst. “I Love you so much Y/n
Stark.” When he pulled you into another kiss, the room let out a cheer.
It had been four months since you last
moons blood, and five months since you and Robb got married. Maester Luwin had
confirmed your suspicions. You were pregnant.
You knew Robb would be happy, you were
carrying the air to Winterfell inside of you, but you were still nervous to
tell him. You said a quick prayer to both the Old Gods and the seven that he
would be as pleased as you were.
Robb was out hunting when you found out
that you were pregnant, he would be back early the next morning. You let out a
groan. You were desperate to tell someone. When you saw Catelyn, you couldn’t
“Lady Stark, there is something I must
tell you, Robb is not here and I have to tell someone.” You gushed, and Catelyn
gave you a knowing smile.
“Y/n please, you must call me Catelyn”
she insisted “What is It you must tell me?”
“I’m with child” you whispered
excitedly, relieved to finally share the secret.
Your mother in law pulled you into a tight
hug “I have had my suspicions, you have been absolutely glowing this past few
“I can’t believe I’m going to be a
mother” you muttered, slightly in shock.
Catelyn let out a laugh “I can’t
believe I’m going to be a grandmother.”
Robbs reaction to your pregnancy had
been even better then you could have hoped. As soon as the words had left your
mouth he had lifted you up into his arms. You buried your head into the crook
of his neck. You couldn’t tell if he was crying or laughing, but you knew he
Throughout the pregnancy Robb had been
extremely protective of you, worrying about everything you did. You couldn’t
even go on a ride without him insisting to come with you. Arya had told you
that he was obsessed, but you found his care endearing.
The bump had started to show just after
you broke then news to Robb, and the Starks were constantly crowding around
you, trying to see if the baby was kicking yet.
You were lying in bed curled up with
Robb the first time that you felt the baby kick. Robb was snoring softly when
you woke him.
“Robb! The baby’s kicking!” you elbowed
him lightly and he groggily began to wake up.
He quickly came to his senses when he
heard the word baby “Wait Y/n is everything okay?” he said, shooting up quickly.
He quickly placed his hand against your
bump, a smile spreading across his face. You couldn’t wait to start your family
with the man you loved.
Giving birth was the hardest thing that you had ever done, but Robb got you
through it. Despite the midwifes insistence that Robb needed to leave, he
remained stuck to your side, holding your hand the whole time.
“Come of Y/n one more push. You can do
“I-I I Can’t do this Robb…” you said
exhausted “Please I can’t”
Robb squeezed you hand tight “You can
do this love.”
It took the last of the energy you had
left, but you gave one final push. You didn’t immediately hear the baby cry,
and panic rose in your chest. Was there something wrong, was your baby safe?
Then you heard the baby cry. Your baby.
It was the best sound you had ever heard.
Robb was silent as the midwife place
the baby in his arms, totally in awe of the tiny person you had both created.
He looked on the edge of tears.
“Y-y/n… we’ve got a daughter Y/n. Our
You let out a sob when you saw your
child. Suddenly all of the hours of pain and discomfort were forgotten, as Robb
handed you your daughter. Her eyes were closed as she grabbed onto your little
finger with her hand. You hadn’t known you could love someone so much.
Robb kissed you on the forehead, then
kissed the top of your baby’s head “She’s perfect, you’re perfect. Gods I love
you both – more than I know how to say.”
You looked up at your husband, the man
you loved “Lyanna. She’s called Lyanna.” The look on his face told you that it
Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he’d played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother’s milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I’m kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. “Robb will make a good king,” he said loyally.
“What could you want to see?” Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she’d feared.
Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to:squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher’s boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick.
“Gods be true, Arya, sometimes you act like such a child,” Sansa said. “I’ll go by myself then. It will be ever so much nicer that way. Lady and I will eat all the lemon cakes and just have the best time without you.”
Sansa lifted her head. “It will be a splendid event. You shan’t be wanted.”
“Go ahead, call me all the names you want,” Sansa said airily. “You won’t dare when I’m married to Joffrey. You’ll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace.”
“You’re horrible,” she screamed at her sister. “They should have killed you instead of Lady!”
The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. “I hate her!” she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night’s fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.
Arya started it,“ Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. "She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I’m going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”
"Then I’ll … make you a new one,” Arya said.Sansa threw back her head in disdain. “You? You couldn’t sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties.”
“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you, I only want to be Joffrey’s loyal and loving wifeIt was not until later that night, as she was drifting off to sleep, that
Sansa realized she had forgotten to ask about her sister.
Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could, but she was dead, Father had killed her, on account of Arya.
Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went.
She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her "little sister” and finish her sentences with her. But all of them were gone. She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn’t even talk to her unless Father made her.
She went to the window seat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herself most of all. It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened. Sansa said so, and Jeyne too.
“I’m sore all over,” Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg.“You must be a terrible dancer,” Sansa said
“It won’t be so bad, Sansa,” Arya said. “We’re going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we’ll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest.” She touched her on the arm.“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!” She wrenched away from her sister’s hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.
Arya looked down at her ragged clothes and bare feet, all cracked and callused. She saw the dirt under her nails, the scabs on her elbows, the scratches on her hands. Septa Mordane wouldn’t even know me, I bet. Sansa might, but she’d pretend not to.
When she thought of seeing Robb’s face again Arya had to bite her lip. And I want to see Jon too, and Bran and Rickon, and Mother. Even Sansa … I’ll kiss her and beg her pardons like a proper lady, she’ll like that.
So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.
“Well," Arya said, "my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.
Lommy had called her Lumpyhead, Sansa used Horseface, and her father’s men once dubbed her Arya Underfoot, but she did not think any of those were the sort of name he wanted.
Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn’t, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing.
Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister.
- Just because the ~discourse~ has resurfaced and people are forgetting there are legitimate issues for the girls to work out between themselves.
When Robb was born I was already in third grade, which means if we were friends back then I would have been hanging out with a baby. I don't know anything about infant care. Oh my god I could have killed him.
Arya Stark Appreciation Week: Day 2 -
Favorite Familial Relationship
The rest of the time, they ate in his solar, just him and her and Sansa. That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her. But all of them were gone. She had no one left but Sansa, and Sansa wouldn’t even talk to her unless Father made her. - Arya II - AGoT
Of all Arya’s relationships, one that’s not given enough credit is Arya/Rickon. Since he’s not a POV character and he’s too young to take an active role in the overall story as yet, we don’t have as much material on him yet. But one thing we can garner from canon so far is that he is universally loved. From just Arya’s POV, every mention of him is positive and shows how much she genuinely cares for him:
That was when Arya missed her brothers most. She wanted to tease Bran and play with baby Rickon and have Robb smile at her. She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her.
A whooping gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop. Arya stared at them with resentment, remembering the times she’d played at hoops with Bran and Jon and their baby brother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She would have given anything if Jon had been here to call her “little sister” and muss her hair.
She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon … but it was Jon Snow she thought of most.
For a moment Arya forgot to breathe. Dead? Bran and Rickon, dead? What does he mean? What does he mean about Winterfell, Joffrey could never take Winterfell, never, Robb would never let him. Then she remembered that Robb was not at Winterfell. He was away in the west, and Bran was crippled, and Rickon only four. It took all her strength to remain still and silent, the way Syrio Forel had taught her, to stand there like a stick of furniture. She felt tears gathering in her eyes, and willed them away. It’s not true, it can’t be true, it’s just some Lannister lie.
Might be it’s from Robb, come to say it wasn’t true about Bran and Rickon. She chewed on her lip, hoping. If I had wings I could fly back to Winterfell and see for myself. And if it was true, I’d just fly away, fly up past the moon and the shining stars, and see all the things in Old Nan’s stories, dragons and sea monsters and the Titan of Braavos, and maybe I wouldn’t ever fly back unless I wanted to.
She could feel the hole inside her every morning when she woke. It wasn’t hunger, though sometimes there was that too. It was a hollow place, an emptiness where her heart had been, where her brothers had lived, and her parents.
It’s sad that we won’t get any footage of them together in the current adaptation. But hopefully GRRM will make up for that in TWOW and ADOS.