My Favorite Game Of Thrones Imagines/Preferences

Robb Stark imagine 3

Pearls in the murk
(Lannister!Reader)

"Don't look so dour, Lord Stark. I know you Northerners are a grim lot, but I rather like it when you smile. It seems a waste of a perfectly handsome face to have you scowling all the time."

Robb jolted and looked over at you, disconcerted to see the slight smirk resting upon your lips. He couldn't puzzle you out - your mother seemed like a cold, humourless woman, forever rolling her eyes at her husband's drunken antics, but you...you seemed to approach all topics with a glib, slightly sardonic air. Not wholly dissimilar to your uncle Tyrion, as a matter of fact.

Robb felt his horse shifting uneasily beneath him and hoped that his own discomfort wasn't as immediately obvious. He wished that there was someone around who could hear what you were saying and explain to them what, exactly, you meant. Even the most innocuous remark like the weather (or how cold it was here, naturally) seemed weighted, loaded with double meanings that Robb was certain were there, but couldn't quite pin down. Though perhaps he was predisposed towards paranoia in your case, considering who your maternal family was.

"Apologies, my lady," Robb murmured, a sinking feeling in his chest as he realised that his reluctance towards this arranged marriage had been made far too obvious.

After all, just because you were taking the news with considerably more aplomb than he was didn't mean it was any more your idea than his. Perhaps you saw it more as an opportunity than a prison sentence, and this notion only served to fan the flames of guilt when Robb recalled that his first reaction to the news had been the feeling of having his wild days as a young bachelor being snatched away. He thought of his father's wintry disapproval if he acted like a child about this and repressed a shudder. After all, even the Warden of the North had once been matched to a woman he barely knew (the bride of his late brother, no less), yet in the present day he couldn't name many couples who seemed more content with each other than Ned and Catelyn Stark. Robb had no idea how fruitful a match between a Baratheon and a Stark could be, but he knew enough of history to know that he had best try to get on with his future wife.

You seemed less than impressed by his fumbling attempts at courtesy, however.

"It's almost insulting, don't you think?" you asked, pushing your golden hair out of your face as your horses moved at a leisurely pace, "You are the oldest son of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, I the oldest daughter of King Robert, therefore it's been decided we should marry. Let alone that we have only just met - this is a wedding for our fathers, not for us." 

Robb was quiet for a moment, slightly stunned by your candor.

“You think that this is a poor match, then?” he asked, a smile quirking at his lips, despite himself.

“I hardly know, I’ve barely gotten a word out of you since we spoke for a moment during the feast,” you replied, in a deceptively airy tone, but the look you shot him from beneath your eyelashes was at once reproachful and accusatory. 

Robb blinked, startled but slightly impressed at being on a receiving end from such a look – who would have thought you in your silk gowns and long, flowing hair would be capable of producing such an expression?

“Of course, I’d pity your sister if she had been matched with Joffrey instead of you to me.” You shrugged, in a slightly less flippant tone than before. “Not everyone is so accommodating when ordered to make such a life-changing decision. But, even if we did not choose one another to start off with, I can think of worse fates, don’t you think?”

“Forgive me if I made you believe I found you displeasing, my lady,” Robb returned, finding himself warming to you, despite himself, this clever, sharp-eyed girl who saw far more than she first let on. “I assure you it was not my intention.”

You snorted.

“You really are a Lannister,” Robb laughed, missing the brief flicker that crossed your features for a moment, “Good looks and sharp claws.”

“Flatterer,” you said, shaking your head in amusement, ignoring the thumping of your heart, “But as we’re out here and away from prying eyes, why don’t you show me more of your beloved lands, while we still have the time to ourselves? If I’m going to be the Lady of Winterfell one day, then I should at least get to know my lands with my Lord Wolf, shouldn’t I?”

Robb didn’t miss the challenging note in your voice as you turned to look at him, a mischievous expression on your face, and an answering gleam lit up his Tully blue eyes.

“Aye, you should,” he agreed with a surprisingly boyish grin, “Let’s see if you can keep up!”

With a shout, he suddenly spurred on his horse with a sharp kick, and the beast took off at a gallop, racing down the slope of the hill. Your hands tightening on the reins, you followed Robb with a cry of your own, which was quickly lost on the blowing winds as you rode, hair blowing back by the motion, nothing but the sound of hooves on the tightly-packed earth and Robb’s voice in your ears. Of course, Robb wasn’t the only one with misgivings to this match – Cersei had raged for days when he first brought it up, loathe as she was to let her children out of her sight, and to the family she secretly resented, no less. 

But you thought that even here in these unfamiliar lands with a strange young man to be your husband, perhaps you could finally be granted some idea of what life is like outside the stifling cage of palace walls. Perhaps Robb Stark, young and headstrong as he was, would be someone you could picture yourself saying those words to, the words that bound you together in the eyes of the Seven.
You rather liked the idea of having something (or someone, in this case) that was just yours, rare though that was, like finding buried treasure in the ocean. Cheered by your thoughts, you followed after Robb through the moors leading back to Winterfell, eyes on the skyline. 

When Robb looked back at you and smiled, you found yourself smiling back, testing out the words on your lips.

“I am yours, and you are mine.”