A Northern Rose - Game of Thrones // Robb Stark

A Wolf Song

Hand in hand, Robb pulled me into his room; the sound of our laughter filling the halls as we ran.

Once we had entered the room, I swiftly fell into Robb; resting both of my hands on his chest as his arms enveloped me. We stood like that for a moment and I studied his handsome features, he is mine, I thought.

Suddenly my heart began to race as the realisation of our situation set in, and before I could even attempt to set my mind straight Robb pulled me even closer towards him and rested his lips upon mine whilst undoing the ties on the back of my dress rather skilfully.

It soon glided to the floor, as well as several other items of clothing from the both of us. Distracted for a brief moment in time, I wrapped my arms around Robb’s neck, running my fingers through his hair.

He kissed me, more passionately than ever, before shifting through the dim lit room and to the door; leaving me stood vulnerable to the slight chill.

My heart was stammering in my chest, my mind swirling like it had earlier today. My eyes would not falter from the mottled furs that had been strewn over the bed - the bed. Why did it seem such a dangerous word? But I knew why.

The latch on the door gave a metallic click as the oak slab was pushed softly shut. Even so, I flinched. I had my back to it, and my gaze stayed fixated upon the bed. I couldn’t turn myself around, didn’t want to, because I knew I would meet warm eyes… And panic. ‘This will be the pinnacle of your existence’, they’d said. Mother herself had been gleeful on the subject. But no more. No more talk. The door was shut, other paths closed off. I was now set on this one, solid road - and it led only to him.

And he was so close, now. So close that I could have sworn I felt his breath on my neck. For one stricken moment, fear engulfed me.

Then came the gentlest touch of hand on hand, as he slipped his into mine and as our fingers entwined. It was a surprise, however, to find that his shook just as much as mine.

That simple fact, that he was just as apprehensive as I was, was enough to quell the storm within me. My momentary fear was dispelled, and I suddenly found myself able to move again. I turned, eyes down, towards him. Our hands stayed locked in togetherness; his strong but trembling fingers steadied mine - and so my paler ones steadied his. They equalled one another out, so that there was no more shaking. No more fear. A second hand rose to my face and, slowly, he tipped my head up so that I had to look at him. My eyes obeyed, and what they met was as light and dark as dusk; his own eyes searched mine.

This was it. The it we hadn’t dared speak of to one another.

Below our feet, almost a world away, people laughed and danced and feasted. But here, in this room, the candles had burnt low; their light threw softened shadows onto the walls, and the slim sliver of silver that was the moon peered in from the slit windows - as if watching, to oversee this most precious of moments.

Instinct told me to find his hand, where it now rested upon my cheek. It quivered as it did, almost as though it were no longer part of my own body; as though it had a will of its own. Robb said nothing. He didn’t need to. His thumb trapped my hand against my own face - the gentlest of traps, from the gentlest of hunters.

Without even my noticing, our hands moved together from my cheek to the hollow in my neck. He stopped at my throat, and I could feel the thrum of my heartbeat pulse quickly under his own skin. He stroked the thin chain there - the chain of the necklace that he had given me.

“Eliah Stark,” He murmured, and the foreign name caught me off-guard. My name. Not Eliah Tyrell, not anymore. The rose had been claimed by the direwolf. I was a Stark.