Song: Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons
Fianna
"Seven Hells, woman," Bonifer sounded out, tapping her on the shoulder hurriedly. "Unless you're taking them with you, let go of them before you end up choking them."
Fianna Stark ignored his words, refusing to let go of both of her children as she had each of her arms wrapped around them, their small heads buried into her neck.
"Come on, love," Robb spoke soothingly, crouching down to place his hand on her back, although he was just as reluctant to leave and had his own prolonged embrace just before her.
Fianna finally let up, letting go of the two who were entirely confused by their parents actions.
"Mama?" Aifric asked in a worried voice, nearly breaking Fianna's heart in two. Each time she left them, it got harder and harder. Once again, she was glad that she had abdicated her crown, or else these departures would become more frequent.
"We'll be back soon, little ones, I promise," Robb answered when Fianna remained silent, placing his arm around Fianna's waist to guide her away towards their waiting horses.
"It's not right," she whispered to him when they were further away, shaking her head softly.
"I know," was all he could say, agreeing completely. Robb wondered who it hurt more, himself or his wife. Apparently, the first time leaving was the hardest.
"We can't stay away too long," he continued, catching her attention as she hauled herself up and mounted her horse.
"We won't," she agreed. "If we ride fast, we could arrive at Dragonstone within two weeks. We listen to what she has to say, inevitably refuse to bend the knee and run like seven hells out of there before she sets us alight."
Despite her grim words, he couldn't help but smile softly over at her from the back of his own horse. There wasn't anyone else in the world he'd have went to Dragonstone for other than Fianna, it was all he could do to hope that his love for her wouldn't be his downfall, as it had before.
-
"What did he say this was?" Robb's face was pale as he turned the thick, frothy soup over with a spoon, looking as if he were about to vomit.
"Pig's feet stew," Fianna muttered, having long abandoned the concoction after it had been placed in front of her. She had since pushed away the bowl to the side and was looking around at the other customers in the Inn. Simultaneously, she remained inconspicuous underneath a black hood.
Robb and Fianna sat alone, their small party of guards spread out across the tavern and without bearing any House sigil to avoid raising suspicion. The last thing they needed was an enemy getting wind that Robb and Fianna were away from home for Baelfort to be attacked.
"I once ate a half cooked rabbit after I left the Dreadfort, and even that was less dreadful than this," he sighed, dropping the wooden spoon back into the bowl. The dinner was customary with the fee they paid to stay the night, but a customary meal didn't always mean an edible one.
"I can honestly say it was worse than childbirth," Fianna joked with an eyebrow raised, "and my babes were Starks so you can just imagine."
Robb smirked in amusement, "and with a Bua mother, especially, I'd imagine they were painful to deal with."
"Alright, alright," Fianna rolled her eyes and chuckled, "at least my ancestor didn't bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen."
"No, because being burnt to death on top of your own wall was a much preferable ordeal."
Fianna narrowed her eyes, but couldn't help the burst of laughter that came from her after a moment.
The rest of their time in the eating area was spent with much the same, playfully bantering and discussing the impending journey at great length. As time stretched, the ale continued to flow between their lips and their cups and with their growing intoxication, the laughter increased.
It was easy, and for once they weren't plagued with the underlying issues in their marriage. They weren't the former King and Queen, or a Lord and Lady. They were simply Robb and Fianna.
But alas, all tranquility must end. And theirs was brought to a conclusion when a boisterous man in the table over had become loud enough for the two to hear.
"So I said to the whore, I'm no coward, I simply don't want to fuck ya!" He was explaining, the vulgarity of his words catching their attention. "She accused me of pulling a Robb Stark, said I was backing down like a coward. But I just told her it was because the only teeth she had in her head were mine when my tongue was down her throat!"
The men around him burst into laughter, as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. But Robb and Fianna were far from amused, disgusted was a suitable term to match their emotions. Accompanying that disgust, Robb felt something he hadn't felt in a while, the creeping sensation of humiliation clawing at him made his skin itch and his neck redden.
His eyes fell to the table before him, refusing to look up in case anyone should recognise him. To another woman, Robb would look defeated. But Fianna noticed the clench in his fists and the tightness in his jaw. This was anger.
"Robb-" she began, reaching her hand forward to try and soothe him.
"Don't," he cut her off, giving a small shake of his head.
Fianna knew there were many who disagreed with their decision to abdicate, and while she had struggled with adjusting from the change in power, she didn't think she truly regretted it. But looking at her husband now, she wasn't so sure that was something mutual between them.
"Give us another flagon of ale there, love," the same man shouted, all but slapping a passing waitress on her bottom. Robb flinched at the action, and like a horse being clapped on the behind, he set off.
"Only the lowest of bastards would treat a woman with such disrespect," he shot up from his seat, causing Fianna to jump and the entire tavern to quieten. Nervously, her eyes darted between her husband and the man, praying to all the gods, that she could remember the name of, that Robb wouldn't be recognised.
"You've got a lot of nerve calling me a bastard, boy," the older man spat on the ground after a moments silence, having fully realised that he actually was being openly challenged and insulted.
"Don't call me boy, again," Robb warned him, lifting his legs out of the seat on the table to fully face him. He sneered at Robb's confidence, standing up to meet him full on with a snarl on his lips.
"Go back to petting your whore, boy, or else I'll give you the spanking your useless father never did," he grumbled, looking all the more dangerous despite probably being twice Robb's age.
"Oh for fuck sakes," Fianna muttered to herself, standing up from the table in preparation for what was surely about to happen.
For even if she weren't his wife, no man would ever walk away from Robb Stark unscathed after insulting his wife, his father and himself all in one sentence.
Sure enough, Robb fake chuckled. Empowered by the fact the man clearly did not recognise him, thus being able to throw all the formalities and Stark nobilities instilled into him since birth out the window.
Robb shot his hand behind him, reaching for his cup of ale and swinging it around to connect with the side of his head with a sickening thud.
Everyone in the room reacted in some form another. Innocent bystanders gasped in shock. Stark guards shot up from their seats, hands poised over their swords in case the man should retaliate. The men originally seated with the being underneath Robb's hand stood to retaliate. And Fianna reached for the bowl of pig's feet stew, launching it through the air to connect with the closest man who had taken a step toward Robb.
Like a chain reaction, Stark guards flooded forward and began to fight the group of men. Robb's opponent had recovered from the swing and was now attempting to lay a punch on Robb. But as broken as his psyche may have been, Robb's physical state was at its current pique. Fianna was stuck right in the middle of the brawl, her heart racing with adrenaline and excitement as she exercised her war-tested movements against the group, easily overpowering them despite her size.
It was increasingly clear that the group were neither mercenaries nor soldiers, and for that reason, a decision was made to let them leave with their limbs and lives intact. As beaten as they were, the group refused to give in and fought until it was the Starks that left, if nothing other than to save lives.
Fianna and Robb grasped their pained and bloodied hands together as they scurried upstairs towards their assigned room, panting heavily from the exertion. They didn't stop moving until they were safely behind the locked door, breaking into a howl of laughter when it had shut.
"Oh my god, that was amazing, those men were not prepared for that," she beamed, her perfectly braided hair now dishevelled. Robb's grin faded as his fingers reached up and skirted over a darkened red spot on her cheek that would surely bruise by morning. She hadn't escaped unscathed, it appeared.
"I guess it's what we're best at, isn't it?" His smile was more saddened than amused, and she tried desperately to bring him back around.
"Starting a war? I agree."
"He wasn't wrong," Robb's words caused her eyebrows to furrow.
"Excuse me? What he did to that girl was, by no means, excusable or justified!"
"Not that," Robb shook his head, leaning his shoulder against the doorway like she had done. "What he said about me, I am a coward. I abandoned my people when they needed me the most."
"Y-you... no you didn't," she stuttered, shocked by what she was hearing. "You made a good decision. We made a good decision, there was no way we could have stopped the army of the undead, Jon knew how to-"
"Jon could have been named my Hand. He would have accepted the position with honour," Robb refuted. "I was so blinded by my pain and my need to see our children that I... I don't think I made the right decision, Fianna."
She was silent for a few seconds, processing what he was saying as her eyes began to water.
"What do you mean? You didn't want this life for our children, you wanted to come back to Baelfort and be a Lord!"
"I wanted to be with you and our kids," he admitted. "But I didn't want to go to Baelfort. I didn't realise that fully until now, so I don't blame you for taking me there, when I would have gone anywhere for you."
"But..." she began in a whisper, cupping his cheek pleadingly. "You told me you were in no state of mind to be King... you told me that yourself the night before we abdicated."
"I know," he sighed, copying her action by placing his own hand on her opposing cheek, bringing her forehead forward to rest on his. "But all I wanted was my family. Baelfort may be your home, Fianna. But it's not mine. My family is my home. All I needed when I was at my worst was you, our kids and the rest of my family. For the gods sake, I had just gotten Arya, Sansa, Rickon and Jon back and I left them again two weeks later."
"So... you're saying you..." she could barely bring herself to say the words, her mind reeling with guilt and shame.
In truth, she hadn't realised Robb was feeling this way. Now that she was being told, she saw that she shared a similar sentiment with him. Their home was with their family, and even though she had spent her life there, Baelfort was not explicitly where her family was any more. For that was what the rest of the Starks had become - family.
So she decided to sacrifice a piece of herself for the good of her husband and the good of her marriage, after Robb had sacrificed so much of himself for her.
"Okay," she smiled encouragingly, warmed by the confused look on his face. "Let's move home. To Winterfell."
-
Robb
Robb Stark was half-Tully. He even bore their signature red hair and blue eyes. The entire Tully family was centred around a general theme of water - their ancestral home was named Riverrun, their house sigil was a fish.
Despite all of that, Robb had come to discover something on the final leg of his travel to Dragonstone.
He was terrible when travelling on a boat.
He grumbled into the wooden side of the boat at the sound of Fianna's quiet laughter behind him, feeling her hands shake with her chuckles as she gently stroked his curls back from his face. He had just gotten sick for the third time since they had left shore, and was altogether embarrassed and annoyed about the ordeal.
He was a Tully, a man and a Lord. Simple things such as sea travel shouldn't be bowling him over.
When he finally saw land in the distance, he prayed to the Old Gods and the New that the oars would push faster through the water to get him there quicker.
"We're almost there," Fianna began, running one hand over his back. "Raise our banner so they know who it is."
"This is a sign from the Gods, this trip is a mistake," Robb groaned from his position.
"I could have told you that, and I'm no God," she spoke cryptically, her focus set on the impending island.
It wasn't long before they arrived -but to Robb it felt like hours. The guards accompanying them exited the boat swiftly and offered a hand to help Fianna down onto the shore, soaking the bottom of her dress as they pulled the boat inland.
Robb and Fianna's eyes scraped over the large stronghold, probably twice the size of Baelfort in totality. An eerie feeling overwhelmed them, and a sensation of dread creeped up their spine simultaneously. The Targaryens were mortal enemies of both House Stark and House Bua, and yet here they were.
A small party of people flocked down the steps to reach them, three individuals in particular standing out amongst the rest. The first, a woman with a gorgeously darkened skin tone and a large wisp of brown hair atop her head. She was exotic looking compared to the cold faces of the Northerners, which intrigued Fianna. The next she looked upon was the dwarf walking alongside her - Tyrion Lannister, she could hazard a guess. The final notable figure was one Robb hadn't taken his eyes off of since noticing, making his way towards them as if he were a native to the island.
"Welcome-" the woman began, but before she could even truly start, Robb was interrupting.
"What are you doing here?" He grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his half-brother, who shrank under his glare. Fianna tensed, wondering the same herself.
"Calm down, my Lord, Jon Snow received a letter just as your Lady wife did. Only he arrived more promptly," Tyrion spoke as if he were one step ahead of everyone else, a teasing undertone to his words.
"I can't imagine anyone with half a mind would be too eager to meet a woman who so closely resembles Aegon the Conqueror. Then again, I suppose with centuries of inbreeding they are closely matched," Fianna's words were harsh, and Robb bit his cheek to conceal the rising smirk.
Her words alerted the guards behind the trio in front, who reached for the weapons they had clasped to their waist in preparation. The woman calmly held her hand out for them to stand down, an awkward expression on her face.
"They do not take too kindly to people insulting their Queen," she explained, prompting Fianna to raise an eyebrow. "My name is Missandei, if you'd like to follow me, please. Our Queen is most excited to meet with you."
The second she finished speaking, a screech ripped through the skies above, accompanied by a whoosh of air. Robb, the Stark men and Jon ducked instinctively. But the others, including Fianna, stayed unflinchingly. Her head tilted back to stare up in wonderment at the winged beast that soared majestically through the heavens above. Suddenly, she was reminded of the vivid dream she had after birthing the twins. Of a dragon trailing through the sky, taking her eyes away from her children.
"Follow me," Missandei repeated, smiling again at the fearful men. Particularly at Jon, who was still unaccustomed to the dragons despite having been at Dragonstone for a week.
"Why would you accept her invitation?" Robb whisper-shouted to Jon as they climbed the stairs, thankfully a few steps behind the Targaryen group.
"Why would Fianna accept it?" Jon answered in a cool tone, causing Robb to internally groan. Fianna's heritage was a secret he swore to keep, even if that meant withholding it from his brother.
"Fianna isn't the Queen any more, you put the North at risk by coming here. What if it had been a trap? Do you not remember what happened our grandfather after he last visited a Targaryen?" Robb continued, a crease between his eyebrows.
"Dragonstone lays on top of a mountain of dragon glass, which we need to harvest to kill the white walkers. I am not here for politics, I'm here to ask for her help," Jon explained, but Robb still wasn't convinced. Since the second he arrived his body was on high alert, and Jon's revelation caused him to feel as if he was portraying the North as weak to a potential enemy.
Daenerys was here to conquer the Seven Kingdoms - the North was one of those kingdoms.
Jon lingered behind and allowed Fianna and Robb to enter the great hall, the former of the two freezing immediately upon laying eyes on the blonde figure seated at the opposite end, as still as a statue.
Robb paused as she did, eyes darting back and forth between the two and wondering what Fianna was feeling. She had tried so desperately to ignore this part of her lineage, but now she was facing down the only surviving female relative she had, excluding her daughter. He never stopped to think that perhaps Fianna wanted to know Daenerys.
He slid his hand into hers, clutching it tightly to encourage her. The gesture caused her eyes to flick towards his, grey irises cloudy with emotion. His reassuring gaze encouraged her to continue forward until they were feet away from the stone throne, which looked the farthest thing from comfortable. But Robb supposed, nothing about Daenerys Targaryen looked comfortable.
She looked every bit as Targaryen as the books read - with pale hair and light eyes, skin as snowy as the Northern grounds despite spending her life overseas. There was a coldness to her, Robb thought, which was ironic considering everything about the Targaryen family screamed Fire and Blood.
When Fianna stopped, Robb decidedly took a few steps back to allow the two women to discuss what was needed. Daenerys rose slowly, hands clasped in front of her, but remained physically elevated above Fianna on the steps leading to her throne. He wondered briefly if she enjoyed being higher than others, if it filled her with a sense of satisfaction.
"Fianna Bua," she began, her warm tone contradicting her originally cold appearance as the slightest of smiles stretched the corners of her lips. "I have been waiting quite a while to meet you."
-
Sorry for the short delay, I've been so incredibly busy and I didn't want to half ass this chapter 💓
By the way, if anyone is interested I posted a section on Fianna in my Meet My OCs book which you'll find on my profile, it's got fun stuff like cast manips and text posts so check it out if you'd like! x