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At dinner, Y/N Stark was at peace. It had been a long week as Lady of Winterfell while the North was preparing for the harvest, but sitting around the table with her family and letting a delicious meal melt in her mouth was the perfect balance to the chaos.
Winterfell was every bit her home. She had been born a Lady of House Arryn, and had grown up in the Vale with her parents, her uncle Jon, and Aunt Lysa. But at 16, was sent to the North to become acquainted with her future. Almost a year after that, she married Robb.
They had had a year together as a simple married couple, before Ned had fallen ill. His passing had been a dismal affair for the family, but Robb had stepped up and led them through it. Y/N had done her best to shoulder his burden. He was so young, they all were, and they’d never been through something like it. The grief felt insurmountable.
But they had all survived. Lady Catelyn had taken Arya, Bran, and Rickon to Riverrun for a few months, where they could climb and run, and be away from the castle for a while. Jon had postponed his departure to the Wall in order to be there for them, and Sansa had come around to him, especially in her mother’s absence. Things were better, when Catelyn and the kids returned. Things were better, still.
They had all fallen into the way of things. Catelyn and Y/N split most of their duties, since the older woman had been doing them a lot longer and wouldn’t give them up so easily. Y/N didn’t mind— she needed the help. They met with the townspeople, hired the staff, and kept logs of the castle’s exports and imports. Catelyn alone oversaw the children and their education, and she relished having more time to just be a mother. Y/N was effectively still in the training period as Lady of Winterfell, but she took the brunt of the duties now. Her week had been packed with engagements and meetings, and she would have the night to relax.
Her husband’s laugh pulled her out of her head and back to the table. They were all nearly bent over laughing, though Jon and Sansa seemed to find whatever had been said funniest as they threw their heads back and smacked the table. Judging by the proud smile on Bran’s face and the sour look on Arya’s, Y/N guessed it had been at her expense.
She chuckled, and looked at Robb next to her. His eyes were sparkling with amusement, and when he looked at her, his face softened.
She felt an itch in the back of her throat and swallowed hard. He noticed. “Everything alright, dearest?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded, but then she coughed suddenly. Robb gently placed a heavy hand on her back, between her shoulders, and watched with a worried expression until she cleared her throat. “Just allergies, I think. Pollen in the air.”
“Pollen allergies appear in the springtime, Y/N,” Robb pointed out, teasing even though he was worried.
She waved him off and took a sip of her wine. “Just allergies.”
But as dinner wore on, and she laughed and talked and argued, her throat began to feel a little sore. She’d noticed a bit of a strain earlier in the day and had attributed it to all the talking she had been doing lately; she’d been projecting her voice quite a bit as she, Robb, and Catelyn had met with entire rooms of people for days on end, preparing for the harvests and the upcoming feast. She finished her wine quickly and requested another glass; Robb glanced at her when she finished that one quickly, too. He slid his hand into hers beneath the table. She smiled reassuringly.
By the time they went to bed that night, she was struggling to breath through her nose. It hadn’t escaped her husband.
He was trading his day shirt for a sleeping one, and she was sniffling over the papers on her desk, already in her nightgown. He was watching her, taking note of how often she cleared her throat or shook her head. She coughed again, so hard that she leaned away from the desk and bent over towards the ground.
“You’re sick,” he stated.
She cleared her throat again. “How could you tell,” she asked sarcastically. She was only snippy when she was tired, or angry, or sick.
Robb smiled sadly, fond and worried all the same. He crossed the room and rested his hands on her shoulders. The weight was comforting, so she sighed and leaned back into the chair as he began to massage away the tension she had been carrying all day.
“Go to sleep,” he said quietly. “Stop pouring over these books.”
“I just need to look at one more thing,” she protested, sitting up straight as she did. “I should have looked over this all before today, but—”
“—But you’ve been busy, my love,” he finished for her. “And working hard. And your body is telling you to take a break.”
Y/N let Robb help her stand, even though she didn’t need the help. She just liked feeling his touch. He took her other hand and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She tried to pull away. “Robb, I’ll get you sick,” she whined. “You need to stay healthy. This week is going to be even more busy.”
“Which is why I need you well rested and recovering,” he reasoned, only slightly loosening his hold on her.
She sighed and relaxed in his arms. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go to sleep.” He let go of her but kept a hold of her hand as they walked to the bed, but she stopped. “Wait. I should sleep in my old chambers.”
He shuffled on his feet and looked at her confusedly. “Why would you do that?”
She squeezed his hand and started to chuckle, but then she began to cough. She turned away from him again. “Because,” she choked out to the other side of the room, “I’ll get you sick.”
He shrugged, tugging her closer to him again. “I’ll risk it.”
She shook her head and held him away. “Robb, no.”
“Y/N, I’ll risk it. I’m used to colds. My immune system is stronger against them. I can work through them.” He gestured towards the bed and gently pulled her to it, her feet dragging a little on the rug but unable to resist the temptation of her comfortable bed. “Now, come on. Sleep.”
Though her head was beginning to ache and she still couldn’t breathe through her nose, Y/N fell asleep next to her husband, who was warm and firm and held her close. She faced away from him, which made her a little sad since she liked seeing his face and hearing his heartbeat as she fell asleep. But she could feel his soft breaths on the back of her neck, his tender murmurs in her ear, and if she held her breath, she was convinced she could feel his heartbeat.
Y/N woke up feeling even worse. She had told herself she would sleep it off, somehow, but her throat still ached, she still couldn't breathe through her nose, and worst of all, she was cold. She rolled over to find the bed empty and frowned.
She rolled back over and pulled the thick blanket up to her chin. The light shining through the curtains caught her eye, and she absentmindedly listened to the muffled noise in the hall and the courtyard.
She tensed.
She had fucking overslept.
She scrambled out of bed and to the window to verify this, cursing loudly before running to her wardrobe. In a few minutes she was dressed and freshened up, though she still felt terrible. Every exhale from her mouth just felt gross, and her whole body hurt. It was bearable alongside the adrenaline, which is how she got down to the Guards Hall before anyone or anything stopped her.
There was Robb, standing with Jon outside the barracks and speaking with a few men. He noticed her first, marching red-nosed and squinty-eyed towards them, her back straight as always and her head held high. One of her boots was becoming loose-laced and her cloak was lying crookedly across her shoulders. She didn’t notice either. He paused mid-sentence when he saw her, and then excused himself from the conversation. Y/N frowned when she saw the men walk away with Jon, but Robb stopped her and placed his hands on her shoulders before she could go any further.
“My Lady, what are you—”
“Why did you send them away?” she asked, watching them leave confusedly. She cleared her throat and looked at him briefly, then all around the yard. “I overslept, I fear, and I’ve so much to sort out today— plans for the staff, their duties this week and next, and arrangements for the feast, and—”
“Y/N, slow down,” Robb said, tilting his head down so she would look at him and not all around while she worried about her plans. “Slow down. You’re sick.”
“And I’m standing, Robb.” Though, as she said it, she wobbled a little. “I can work. I have to, there’s far too much for Catelyn to handle alone.”
“And while I’m sure she would appreciate your enthusiasm, she’s been doing these duties alone,” he reminded her, looking at her very pointedly through his eyelashes. “For nearly 20 years, now.”
She shook her head as she reiterated, “Robb, I’m fine. There are people I need to meet with, and—”
She broke off into a coughing fit. She tried to pull away from him, but he only let her turn away to cough. He kept his grip on one of her hands, worried she might collapse. She’d only wobbled, but her voice sounded worse than the night before and she seemed shorter of breath in the cold morning air.
She was coughing for longer and longer each time, and more frequently, too. “My love, please rest today. Come, I’ll take you back to bed.”
“Robb, I—” she started, breaking off to cough again. She cleared her throat and weakly thumped at her chest, which seemed to help. “I don’t want to. I want to fulfil my duties as Lady of Winterfell. As your wife. ”
He looked at her sternly, his blue eyes piercing through her stubbornness as she actually stopped to listen to him. It may have had something to do with his hands moving from her arms to her waist. “Y/N. You will still be Lady of Winterfell if you rest for a while. You will still be my wife,” he added, laughing a little. “But you must stop before this gets worse. Know when to rest, yeah?”
She looked away from him, sighing in defeated acceptance. A gentle hand on her chin turned her back to him. The corners of his mouth were lifted ever so slightly, and she couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her own face.
“You’re the worst,” she said quietly.
“And you’re the best,” he whispered back.
She sighed again, and dropped her forehead into his collarbone. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you, Robb,” she mumbled into his chest.
He brought his arms up from her waist to wrap around her, hugging her to him. He warded off some of the cold. “You’re who I want ,” he said, murmuring into her hair.
There were butterflies in her stomach. Though that might have been the sickness. Either way, Y/N suddenly felt very young. Which she was. They both were. Being Warden of the North, Lord and Lady of Winterfell, was a task which required maturity, responsibility, and meant receiving a lot of respect. It often made her feel far beyond her years— being married and overseeing an entire castle and its town and their people. But Robb… he made her feel her age. He made her feel young and giddy and in love… and on this particular day, he made her feel safe, and cared for, and like she could rest.
She let him lead her back to their room. She let him gently slip off her dress and put on a clean nightgown, even though she was capable of doing so herself. She let him ask a maid to bring her water, and food when she woke up.
When she did wake up, it was around midday. She sat up and reached for the soup and bread on the side table. It was still warm. Must have just been brought up , she thought with admiration. Winterfell’s staff felt magical, sometimes.
She was only a few bites in when there was a soft knock on the door, and it opened so Robb could slip inside.
He pulled off his boots with a little trouble. She snickered as he nearly stumbled, and he rolled his eyes but looked at her, hands on his hips, with concern. “How are you feeling?”
She swallowed the spoonful of soup in her mouth and nodded. “Alright. Still sniffling and achy, but my throat feels better.”
He nodded, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “And your cough?”
As if on cue, she coughed.
“The same, I see.”
She nodded and ate another bite of soup. “Robb, really, I’m worried I’m going to get you sick.”
He shook his head as he stood up and walked back to the door. He leaned out into the hallway like he was looking for something as he answered. “Don’t, my love. I haven’t caught a cold in years, even though Rickon gets them all the time and insists on coughing in my face.”
He smiled as a maid appeared in the doorway and handed him his own tray of soup and bread. He thanked her, and she closed the door behind him. He sat back on the bed, his legs stretched out next to Y/N’s.
“Now, I’m going to eat with my wife, and she’s going to tell me if she needs anything, alright?”
“Anything?”
He nodded.
“Will you tidy my papers in the solar today? But the way I do it?” she asked. “I’ve been meaning to for weeks, and I was going to today, but I don’t want to leave from here and get anyone else sick.”
He smiled fondly and nodded in agreement. “Of course. And if I do it wrong, I’ll redo it for you tomorrow.”
She chuckled. “You’re sweet.”
“Isn’t that why you married me?”
“Along with a few other reasons, sure.”
When he came to check up on her next, Y/N was clearing out her wardrobe.
She heard the door open and close, and knew it was him from the footsteps. She heard him pause and walk to the closet, where he must have stood in the doorway and watched her for a moment.
“Should I keep the thicker one or the longer one?” she asked, turning around and holding up two winter dresses.
He tilted his head in brief contemplation. “The thicker one doesn’t come down to your wrists and ankles, but it keeps the rest of you warm.”
“But I’d rather be equally cold in the longer one than distracted by parts of my body being colder,” she reasoned.
He shrugged and crossed his arms. “Then keep the longer one.”
She looked between the dresses and nodded. “The thicker one goes, then.” She handed it to him and put the other back.
“Goes where?” he asked, watching her move around the small room as she pulled out another set of clothes.
“To the town, for donations,” she explained, fussing over the dresses and picking at loose threads. “I don’t wear a quarter of the dresses I own. Might as well go to someone else.”
Robb smiled and tossed the dress away, onto the end of the bed, so he could slide his hands around her waist and pull her close to him.
Y/N felt him tuck his face into the crook of her neck and take a deep breath. Lowly, he asked, “Are you feeling better now?” She could feel his chest rumble as he spoke.
She nodded, leaning back against his shoulder. “A bit. Feeling a little restless, though.”
He chuckled and looked around at the bedroom, in a state of mild disarray, clothes and shoes strewn around and the desk messier than it had been last. “You don’t say?”
“I wish I could go on a ride, but I haven’t got the energy,” she mumbled.
“Let’s go on a walk, then,” he suggested. “In the Godswood.”
She shook her head. “I’ll cough all over the Weirwood.”
He smiled and hugged her tighter. She started to cough. “See?” she choked out.
Robb gave her space to catch her breath, and then turned her around in his arms. “The Gods won’t mind. They’d prefer that to you going mad in our chambers, anyway.”
At the Weirwood tree, Robb helped her sit down at the roots. He sat next to her and took her hand in both of his, mindlessly rubbing his thumb back and forth. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder.
She could breathe easier already. She watched birds play in the wind, likely one of the last times before most of them would fly south. It was getting colder by the day. The weather that afternoon in particular reminded her of the night they had married. While it had been warmer, she had been shivering. She had been dressed in a cloak like she was now, a deep blue one, but with the sigil of House Arryn. She remembered thinking the dark grey one Robb had laid over her was softer.
She had known Robb and the Starks for nearly a year then, and still, she had been scared. What would her life be like, with him as her husband? Would he still be so kind and charming, or would he change? She had heard of men changing, after marriage. Would they be happy together, she had wondered.
She looked up at him. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he felt the breeze ghost across his face. Little tendrils of her hair brushed across his collarbone. He held her a little tighter.
She curled further into his side and sighed contentedly. He looked down at her, his expression soft.
“Better?” he mumbled.
She nodded against his chest and cuddled closer. “The air is nice. I haven’t been out here in a while.”
He nodded. “Well, you’ve been working yourself to the bone.”
“Yes, so have you,” she argued.
He scoffed. “No, I haven’t. I just hold court and manage correspondence. I talk to the guards and the staff when I need to. You and my mother do the rest.”
Y/N jolted suddenly. “Your mother! How long have you been— Robb, she’s working all alone right now!”
“Y/N/N, how often must I remind you?” he chuckled. “She’s perfectly capable. You need the rest. And I’d like to be with my wife while she recovers.”
“Robb, you’re the Warden of the North .”
“The North is strong. It will survive the few hours I spend in your company, my love.”
She sighed, partly defeated and partly fond. “Oh, what a good husband I have.”
“I do my best.”
She breathed out a small laugh and gently cupped his stubble-ridden face. He leaned in before she could stop him, smiling into the kiss. She couldn’t help but sigh dreamily and kiss him back. His hand found its way to the back of her head, and she tangled her fingers in his curls. The groan he released into her mouth was the sweetest medicine.
When they pulled away, it was because she had to cough. She smacked her leg, annoyed as she nearly hacked up a lung. She felt better almost entirely, except for that.
“You’re surely going to be sick now, Robb,” she groaned.
He shrugged. “Worth it, I think.”
She rolled her eyes. “Alright. Well, if you do get sick, I’ll take care of you.”
He kissed her temple for a long, tender second. “I know you will.”
At the end of the day, Robb cleared his throat as he crawled into bed with Y/N and held her close. He fell asleep quickly, after kissing her shoulder and reminding her for the 100th time that he loved her. She yawned, and stared out the open window for a while at the tops of the Godswood trees. As she succumbed to sleep, comfortably in her husband’s embrace, she didn’t even realise that she could breathe through her nose again.