Robb Starks Imagines

Ward

Crdts. Owner

You were in the hall when Lady Catelyn was brought in to speak to your grandfather. You watched her closely. Wondering why the Lady of Winterfell, the wife to the Hand of the King, and the daughter to your grandfather’s liege lord was standing there begging something from the “Late” Walder Frey. You were given your answer just moments after. You weren’t too surprised. You did your best to remain away from everyone else at the Twins, meaning you missed out on all the gossip of the Seven Kingdoms.

“…your son must marry one of my daughters or granddaughters.” Your grandfather’s words didn’t surprise you. He was always trying to wed the “lot of you” off to this Lord or that one. A few times, he would have even settled for a well-kept knight.

Lady Catelyn looked around the room and you did your best to blend into the background. You didn’t want to be married off to some Lord on a whim, handed off by your grandfather because for some damned reason he had decided populating the entirety of the Riverlands was his job. Still, you could have sworn that Lady Stark’s gaze had met your own for just the briefest of seconds before she was turning back to your grandfather.

“I will need to take these terms to him.” Lady Catelyn kept her voice neutral and you couldn’t help but admire the strength in her voice and in her person.

When she returned to the Twins, Lady Catelyn brought with her the force of the North. You stood in the rafters, watching the men pass through the tower with a grin on your face. Your heart thummed with the desire for adventure and a fight; it thummed with the desire to be somewhere other than there at the Twins surrounded by our House which was full of nothing but brutes, simpletons, liars, thieves, and drunkards.

Just as the last of the Northerners slipped through the castle, heading south to Lady Stark’s homelands, your grandfather stopped Lady Catelyn and her son, Robb, the Lord of Winterfell in his father’s stead. The hall fell silent and the Northern Lords who seemed to have made it their mission to remain always at their Lord’s side, instantly reached for their weapons and looked around as if expecting an attack.

“I have one more request,” your grandfather announced, and you couldn’t have been the only person who had rolled their eyes at him. Walder Frey never made requests. He ordered and spun his tongue until he got what he believed he deserved. “Lady Stark, you must take the one your son plans to marry as your ward.” He cackled and you headed for the stairs that led down to the floor below. “They must get to know each other, yes?” You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking. “And you will need some…feminine company.” And I will have one less mouth to feed. He should have added.

Lady Catelyn turned toward her son, an obvious look of warning in her eyes as her son nodded stiffly. “Call them into the room then, My Lord Frey.”

And your sisters, cousins, and aunts who were all unmarried and in at least ten years of Lord Robb’s age were ushered into the room – even the younger girls who hadn’t yet flowered.

You took your aunt Roslin’s hand, she was your best friend, and the two of you hid near the back of the group. While you would both be happy being away from the Twins, neither of you had ever been the type to call attention to yourselves unlike the others who were giggling and pushing each other to get to the front of the group.

Hidden behind the others, you peaked around to take a real look at the boy Lord of Winterfell. You knew that he was younger than you. You had heard that from one of your uncles. Lord Stark was about eighteen name days or so compared to your twenty. Even then, he was well built and tall. He definitely had the Southern Tully blood in his veins, but the giant direwolf at his side spoke clearly on the Northern Stark blood that also ran through him.

Lord Robb of House Stark had the auburn hair and the blue eyes of House Tully, but there was something about how he wore the grey and white colors of his father’s house that made him more wolf than trout. He was handsome, and if he hadn’t had a hundred girls warming his bed back at Winterfell, his honor must have been greater than even his Lord Father’s was supposed to be.

Lady Catelyn stepped up to the group, discreetly pulling her son along by his cloak. She was looking each of your sisters, cousins, and aunts over closely; seemingly, she was looking for something and not finding it in any of them.

Lord Robb was looking the group with a look different than his mother’s. It was a look of absolute helplessness and disgust. He didn’t like the idea of his wife being thrusted onto him. It was a little amusing to you since, after all, that is how his father and mother were named man and wife. He looked so lost and angry at the circumstances that had led him there. Lord Robb was just a boy walking in men sized boots.

“Stay here,” you murmured to Roslin, placing a kiss to her cheek, before slowly making your way around to the front of the group. You didn’t call out to him or to his mother as the others were doing. You watched them both, trying to read the expressions on their faces…and then you tripped over a foot and went trembling to the ground.

You knew you had been tripped on purpose by the snickers that broke out amongst the girls behind you, but you couldn’t think about that at the moment. You were fighting back a curse and tears. Both the curse and tears were for your wounded pride and the pain in your knees.

“My Lady,” his voice was gentle, warm, caring, and kind all at once. His long, strong fingers wrapped around your upper arms and with little effort, he pulled you back to your feet. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod. His face was just inches from your own, and the room was painfully quiet. You knew all the eyes were on the two of you now.

“I…I do know how to walk, My Lord.” You assured him, your voice high and shaky as you pulled yourself free of him, taking a rather large step back from him. “I just…well…forgot how to for a moment.” You murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Robb chuckled and you glared at him making the Lord of Winterfell blush slightly and look down for a moment. “Forgive me, My Lady, it’s not polite to laugh at a woman’s misfortune.” His blue eyes flickered to his mother who had been watching the two of you closely. His mother’s gaze seemed to remind him why they were still at the twins because his eyes hardened and he turned back to you, a look of unease on his face as he asked, “What is your name, My Lady?”

“Y/n,” Y/n of House Frey. I am the daughter to some son of Lord Walder who died during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

“Mother,” Robb murmured, taking your hand, “Lady Y/n, your new ward.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. Did he just…Lady Catelyn’s ward and Robb of House Stark’s betrothed. You were going to marry into House Stark. You were going to be the future Lady of Winterfell.