˚･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ˚･ﾟ✧
' a targaryen and a stark love drunk
on one another. what could go wrong? '
˚･ﾟ✧ ⸻ in which rhaenerys targaryen and robb stark find themselves enchanted with one another
Started: 8.29.22
Finished: 7.2.25
( The...
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THE SHOUTS CAME SOMETIME DURING THE NIGHT. Rhaenerys had been asleep, worn out from a night of eating, socializing, and thanks to Robb, dancing.
Her husband had insisted on twirling her every chance he got, 'showing her off' as he called it, and laughing every time she tripped.
Rhaenerys had been a Lady in nothing but name, having nothing to show for it as she lacked the dancing and the socializing skills.
She'd stumbled more than once, cursed under her breath when someone stepped on her gown, and gotten cherry pie on her sleeve after a conversation with Arya turned into a friendly shoving match.
But she'd smiled. She'd laughed.
Robb had kissed her under the glow of the candlelight, his lips sticky with wine, and told her she was beautiful even when she scowled.
And for one night, she'd let herself believe that peace was something real.
But peace was never meant to last.
The screams shattered it.
Rhaenerys woke to steel clashing, doors slamming, and boots thundering in the corridors.
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Robb was already moving, shirtless and disoriented but armed within seconds as he reached for the sword at the foot of the bed.
"Stay here," He said, voice rough and low. "Don't move unless-"
The door burst open before he could finish.
Wyrmrot stood in the threshold, blood on his cheek and sword drawn. His eyes held a wild gaze that was unusual for the Unsullied. It scared Rhaenerys. The Unsullied had been trained to show no hesitation, no emotion at all. They were warriors from birth, stone cold and unbreakable. But in that moment, Wyrmrot had broken his facade. He looked panicked. Shaken. As if something had finally pierced through the wall of discipline and silence that defined him. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his grip on the hilt too tight.
"The dead," He informed them, his voice gasping out the words. "They're here."
Rhaenerys froze. She could feel the change in the air immediately. The cold hit her like a curse. Her chest tightened, like the very air had been sucked out of her lungs.
"What?" She breathed, slipping out of bed as fear clawed its way up her spine. "How did this happen? We had scouts-"
Wyrmrot stepped fully into the room, blood dripping from his gauntlet onto the floor. "They breached the southern wall. Came in the night. Our arrows do nothing. Swords, nothing. They don't fall." His voice cracked at the end, eyes filled with fear.
