The Legendary Warrior

I wanted to try my hand at GoT Imagines but I didn’t know what the fuck to write, lmao. This is shit, I know, but I’ll do another one later! 

Imagine: Being one of the fiercest warriors in the kingdoms and everyone vying to get your alliance. Rob’s men managed to find you and now you stand in front of the Young Wolf.

Originally posted by historyvikings

You had no interest in wars. Here, you stood in front of the King of the North. The Young Wolf as they call him also. You do not deny his rugged more Tully than Stark looks. His dark brown curls fall in his sharp face. His kindly eyes are gleaming at you with a look that irritates you. It is a look as if he has won the damn war. A war you care shit for.

You only came to humor him. You and your loyal men were making way from the South to the North…to the Wall where the real war would happen—the only war you cared about fighting in. You cared not for the petty squabbles over a damned iron throne.

The Young Wolf looked extremely pleased to see you. In his Royal tent stood before you other Lords you didn’t care for and the Young Wolf’s mother—Catelyn Stark was beside her Kingly son looking as hopeful as the Young wolf. It did bring you pain to know that you would crush their hopes with your next words. You will not deny that they have lost a great deal and have been put in a terrible situation but their problems were shit compared to what would come this winter.

“Well?” Robb persisted getting a bit annoyed at your prolonged silence.

You stared at this man with interest, “I care not for your war,” Your words were sharper then any sword in the tent and colder then any winter that has passed. Immediately there are men on their feet yelling at you for your disrespect but you fear them not. Robb is stunned by your words and utterly confused. You cared not for this war? You cared not for the people of this land?

“I give you my sincere condolences’, truly, but I am not here to fight your war or anyone’s war. There is a reason why I have no interest in an alliance with anyone. Stannis made the mistake of thinking he could force me into one and almost paid with his life. Renly was smart enough to respect my choice,” You say indifferently taking note of the hands resting on hilts of swords but you are not afraid, “There is a war that I will fight in and that is the war of the dead that comes when the first white winds blow, Young Wolf.”

Catelyn is bristling in anger and she is the one to speak, “How dare you speak such disgraceful words?” She spits and it is then that you understand why people are fearful of Catelyn Stark. Her eyes were hard enough to cut through Valyrian Steel.

“Your grace,” You respectfully say to the grieving widow, “I speak only the truth. While you all fret over a war that has been repeated before, there is a war that would make this one seem like child’s play. All your work will be for naught if the white walkers succeed in coming over that Wall.” You hold any remorse for your words and you show it well.

“You are not sane!” It is Robb who speaks angrily as he stands, his men get even more aggressive with their postures and words, “We fight for our freedom. We fight to bring home my sisters! We fight to get rid of those damn Southerners!” He is taller then you expected despite being younger then you and he is in your face seething in rage.

You remain cool and unaffected, “Like I previously stated, Young wolf, all this fighting for freedom is for naught if the white walkers succeed in their advance.” You looked at this young man clearly, “I am not some sword for hire. My answer is no.”

Robb growls making a movement to grab you but you remain calmly in your place and say with boredom, “By all means, make the same damn mistake that Stannis did. I went easy on that bastard but I won’t be so forgiving on you. Let me remind you that the title I have, I have earned for a reason. Although, I’m not sure you have earned your title, Little King.”

The murder on the Young Wolf’s face is clear. His direwolf—Grey Wind, was it? His wolf is snarling and snapping his teeth demanding to taste your flesh. The direwolf is no worry to you. As strong as the creatures were, an easy swipe at his neck and the mutt would bleed out in seconds.

“It was an honor,” You remark unaffected by the hostility in the tent, “But I have somewhere else to be. I give you my best in this war, Little King. If you somehow survive this war, you might live long enough to see how wrong you were and how right I was and then you will die from the foolishness this kingdom has made.”

You weren’t eager to travel through the night but thanks to these fools, you would have to, to make up time lost from entertaining the Stark army. You mockingly curtsy and leave the tent. “Leave her!” Robb growls knowing that you alone could take out every Lord in the tent without breaking a sweat.

You smirk as you walk outside in the fading sunlight. Your men lazily lounging about looking bored out of their minds. They immediately stand once they see you. The horses were at the edge of this camp. “Y/N?” Your best friend and right hand man asks with a knowing smirk.

You waste no time, “We have much land to cover and little time, let us make haste.” Your men follow your lead but the call of your name stops you.

It was the Young Wolf.

You turn to gaze at him curiously, “What is it you want, Little King?”

He looks visibly upset, “Have you no care for the family we have lost?”

Your answer is immediate, “Of course I do, Little King. I am not heartless woman. I have tasted loss—in fact I have no family but the men at my side. I have lost my entire family and I have been raped by many men but I am here fighting in a war that does matter. You are not the only man to have lost something due to another. Revenge will come to those who have wronged you but this war was never the answer.” You say with a quiet darkness that has Robb Stark looking at you in a new light.

“The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years.” He states flatly.

“Aye, plenty of time to re-populate and plan out an invasion, don’t you think?” You countered before turning your back and resuming your true journey. “I’ll tell your bastard brother you said hello.” You add over your shoulder with a snicker.

“All we need is for the Lannisters to capture us.” Snickered one of your men.

“Please, don’t jinx it.” You sigh. You had your full on Kings.

Originally posted by historyvikings


asoiaf meme [¾] relationships - Robb and Catelyn Stark 

Let him grow taller, she asked the gods. Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty. Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own sons in arms. Please, please, please. As she watched him, this tall young man with the new beard and the direwolf prowling at his heels, all she could see was the babe they had laid at her breast at Riverrun, so long ago.


The gods of Winterfell kept a different sort of wood. It was a dark, primal place, three acres of old forest untouched for ten thousand years as the gloomy castle rose around it. It smelled of moist earth and decay. No redwoods grew here. This was a wood of stubborn sentinel trees armored in grey-green needles, of mighty oaks, of ironwoods as old as the realm itself. Here thick black trunks crowded close together while twisted branches wove a dense canopy overhead and misshappen roots wrestled beneath the soil. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the gods who lived here had no names.


It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb… Robb… please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting… The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. “Mad,” someone said, “she’s lost her wits,” and someone else said, “Make an end,” and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she’d done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.



day 7: one relationship →  catelyn and her children

“My lord husband is dead, as is my father. Two of my sons have been murdered, my daughter has been given to a faithless dwarf to bear his vile children, my other daughter is vanished and likely dead, and my last son and my only brother are both angry with me. What could possibly be amiss? “