Chrysalism | Robb Stark x Reader

One | Mēre

The summer sea breeze carried a slight chill as it passed over the rolling hills of the North of Westeros. Children could be seen play fighting with wooden sticks as swords in the courtyards of the Northern Castle as their mothers fussed over the way their clothes got more muddy by the second. Their fathers tending to their simple trades to support their families and the peaceful Kingdom. 

The North had been joyfully free from the Seven Kingdoms and the ongoing battles for the Iron Throne for generations. Northerners had gone generations without seeing disagreement between the North and the South. The people in the North were happy and careless, blissfully going about their lives. 

But when a sudden plague swept through the Northern Crownlands and stole the beloved, peacekeeping Northern King Adrien, happiness and hope left with him. The North wept for weeks. Every person had stopped weaving the bright colours of summer into their fabrics and started wearing the dreary grey of the sky. The storms that often passed through the villages reminded the inhabitants that even the sky cried in mourning of their fair and kind ruler. 

As the late King's eldest daughter, I could not mourn in the comfort of my mother's arms or in the soft furs of my bed as I longed to. I could not cry for days on end or fall to my knees, screaming. As Y/N Vivier, my mourning was seen by all as I assumed the role of Queen in the North. At only 15 namedays, the crown fell heavy on top of Y/N's long golden locks and your tight-lipped emotionless face. 

                                                                                  ~*~

Further South, the sun continued to shine brightly down onto the Capitol. In the city's centre, a rather fat man with black hair and bright blue eyes sat on top of an asymmetrical monstrosity of spikes, jagged edges, and twisted metal swords. Robert Baratheon held the letter in one hand and a large chalice of wine in the other. A quivering messenger stood shaking in his boots before the drunken King. 

The news of  King Adrien's death had reached the Crownlands by way of spies, ravens and finally, the young teenager. Oblivious to the boy, Robert Baratheon ran a hand through his beard. He had loathed the free Northerners for all his years on the Iron Throne and he was going to make sure their moment of weakness would not go unnoticed. 

"Call the banners!" He yelled confidently to the somewhat empty room. "Today, we will march on that weak girl-Queen and show those pathetic Northerners who rules the Seven Kingdoms. And tomorrow, they will bend the knee." 

With a final glance to see as his aggressive orders were carried out, Robert left the hall to retire to his bedchambers and the whore waiting for him. 

                                                                                  ~*~

It seemed as though Y/N was born to be Queen. In a time of darkness for your people, the newly-crowned Queen in the North brought light. You had quickly learnt your duties and fulfilled them wholeheartedly and with the people's best interests in your heart. They believed in you and would follow your kind heart until the end of your days. 

In the weeks following King Adrien's death, the North had been brought out of its depression. The sky had cleared and the future looked as bright as the sun that shone down onto their lands. 

After another full day, Y/N had slept deeply and soundly. Your usual night terrors seemingly vanished from your mind. 

But, they attacked that night. 

"Quick! Your Grace, please awaken!" I could feel my handmaiden shaking me roughly as I slowly began stretching out my arms and legs. Rubbing my eyes, I noticed a harsh flickering orange glow outside my window. 

"Please, we must be quick, Your Grace!" The handmaiden continued, "It's the Baratheons, the Lannisters. Quick! I must get you out of here!" She spoke in hushed whispers but it didn't make sense in my sleepy mind. 

Nonetheless, I was dragged from my comfortable bed by the crook of my arm by the handmaiden. Hurrying through the corridors of the castle using the unusual brightness carried by the fires to guide us, I could hear the clanging of metal as my men defended the castle. Their home. My home. 

"I can't! I can't leave. I must be with my people." I said firmly, twisting my arm out of the handmaiden's grip. "They are risking their lives to defend me, I must stay and show them the faith I have in them." I stared deeply into her eyes.

"Your grace!" A new voice called from further down the corridor. My brother and Head of the Queensguard, Alexandre, emerged from the shadows. 

"Alex!" I leapt forward to wrap my arms around his neck. 

"Come, you must follow, Y/N." 

He turned, grabbing my arm, and pulled me towards the exit. Using the tunnels under the castle, we could easily reach the forest and head to safety. But, I had to stay with my people. Stand by them, defend what's ours as my father would have done, and if it came to it, die with them. I knew it, in my heart. 

"Alex, I can't leave. I must stay with my people, our people." I try pulling my arm back towards me but Alex is 3 namedays older and at least a foot taller than me. 

"No." He started bluntly. "I will stay. But you must remain safe. Head North, to Winterfell. The Starks have been loyal to you and our father and our father's father for many generations. Trust them and when the time is right, you can retake the North." 

It made sense, what he was saying. But I didn't want to leave him and my family behind. 

"Please, Y/N. You must go. We will not win tonight as they surprised us but we will take our revenge. When the time is right and our forces strong. Remember: blood must have blood." 

As he repeated our words, I knew it was the right thing to do, the strategic thing to do. I just had to make it to Winterfell. I placed my hand on his cheek.

"May we meet again, brother." Taking one last look into his eyes, I turned to walk out of the tunnels and into the dense forest, the fighting now a distant sound. 

"May we meet again, sister." 

His voice is almost silent but full of hope. I don't turn back. I only look forward, towards the future, while repeating my family's infamous words. Blood must have blood...and I will be more than happy to deliver the Baratheons and the Lannisters to that fate. 

                                                                                  ~*~