The White Wolf of Winterfell

Chapter 19: Letters

The melodic chirping of birds resonated across the fields, serving as a warm and inviting sound to many. However, those who had indulged in excess the previous night found it somewhat bothersome. Yet, for those who had experienced a profound and awe-inspiring moment in the heart of the night, that very sound felt like a gentle breeze of welcome, destined to etch that unforgettable night into their memories forever.

And it happened to a particular person whose thoughts were still consumed by the memories of the previous night. The enchanting sound of the world's most stunning woman, as she was on top of him, beneath him, in front of him. Robert Baratheon had no inkling he possessed such endurance until that night. He wasn't even certain if he could climax multiple times in one night. Yet, it occurred, and the emotions, the sensations that accompanied it, wiped away a thousand nights spent with any other women he had ever been intimate with.

Robert was truly in love, to the point he wasn't even sure it was real.

Such an experience felt unreal, yet it lingered in Robert's dreams. The soft moans of Galadriel, pleading for him to claim her, the ecstatic cries of pleasure, and his name resonating within the tent. Robert knew he would never forget this encounter; he would sooner choose death than let it slip from his memory. He woke up, slowly sensing a certain void in his bed.

"My love?" Robert whispered, opening his eyes. However, a sense of emptiness washed over him as he realised that Galadriel was nowhere to be seen. Groaning softly, he attempted to rise from the makeshift bed, but his body protested with aches and pains. His stamina had seemingly abandoned him, leaving him weak and unable to walk. Perplexed, he noticed several scratch marks on his back and chest, though he couldn't comprehend how they had appeared.

But soon enough, memories of a devious woman with golden eyes arrived in his mind, making Robert smile at his battered body, and a sense of pride emerged.

"Who would have imagined that you could embody such sensuality, my beloved?" Robert murmured to himself as he reminisced about the countless expressions on Galadriel's face as he dominated her without stopping, memories that only he held within.

Nevertheless, as he mustered the strength to rise from the bed, he was able to recollect the words that Galadriel had spoken to him while they lay together. Following hours filled with intense desire and longing, she nestled beside him, her body damp with sweat, gently toying with the tufts of hair on Robert's chest.

"We must not speak of this to others, Robert," Galadriel whispered.

"Why not? Let them... let them see that you are mine now," Robert replied firmly, his arms encircling Galadriel's passionate form.

"If you desire to marry me, there is a favour you must grant me. It is imperative that you ensure nobody discovers that you have taken my virtue prior to our wedding. I implore you not to allow any doubt to be cast upon my honor or to bring me shame by flaunting your conquest, Robert. I am not a person of loose morals, but a woman who values her dignity. If you truly wish for me to be by your side, it is essential that you treat me with the respect I deserve."

Robert remembered those words well; he had a deeper understanding of them than most would realise. He was no fool. Robert observed how people had already begun to doubt Galadriel after she was attacked some time ago. The whispers and rumours of her being taken advantage of still lingered, continuing to cast doubt upon her. Robert suddenly claiming that he took her maidenhood would cast a shadow and problem not only to Galadriel but the North as a whole. He could not do it to her, not to the woman he loved.

"I promise you, my love, that I will never reveal what transpired tonight, even if it costs me my life. However, I ask that you give me your word in return that you will belong to me."