Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Robb Stark x Lannister!Reader - Hate On Me

(A/N) - This chapter is loosely based on the Glee version of the song 'Hate on me.' Like, very loosely. (I got back into watching the first season again the other day because it's mind numbing and I love it.) I hope you all enjoy it.

"Lady Stark, come quick," you panted as you barged into the tent that had recently become her chambers. As the older woman looked up you could see the redness in her face and the tears that had obviously been falling.

"What's the matter, child?" Even her voice was shaky as she got to her feet and took the few steps towards you.

You were completely still for a moment. You had almost forgotten that Robb wouldn't be the only Stark affected by Eddard's death. "It's Robb. My Lady, he's out in the forest."

Catelyn's voice suddenly stopped shaking as she heard your words and she nodded before pulling her robe around her shoulders. "Take me to him."

It didn't take you long to find Robb once you had left the main part of the camp, all you had to do was listen for the thud of metal against wood and it would lead you to him. Catelyn rushed to his side once you had finally reached him, pulling his sword from his hands and letting it drop to the floor as they sobbed together. 

Watching the scene unfold broke your heart and sent a shock of guilt through you. Your family had done this to his. Your nephew had given the order to take Eddard's head despite your sister's promises to keep him alive. You had been writing her often and begging for mercy for your soon to be Good-Father, but apparently, that had done very little to save him. You had always known Cersei to be a liar but you had never believed that she would lie to you about something so important to your survival.

You would soon be made a prisoner to the Starks, you were certain of it, and eventually, you would be sold to bring Arya and Sansa back to Winterfell. You were sure of it, even though you hadn't seen your family since their latest visit to Winterfell. You had been living there since you turned thirteen after you were promised to Robb. You would marry once you were both mature enough, but now it seemed it would never happen.

You could feel tears brim in your eyes when Robb met them over his Mother's shoulder. He quickly pulled away from her, attempting to calm himself as he stared at you. "Did you know anything about this?" he asked you, his voice husky from the tears.

You shook your head quickly as the tears began to escape. "I promise you, Robb; I wrote Cersei to ask her to pardon your father. She promised to keep him safe," you cried, taking a tentative step towards him. You watched as he opened his arms to you and you took the extra few steps to burrow into his chest. "I'm so sorry," you continued to sob into his leather tunic.

"It's not your fault," he whispered to you, his hand running gently up your spine, and then you felt another pang of guilt. Robb's Father was dead and he was comforting you when it should have been the other way around. There was nothing you could do, however, as he pulled you closer to his chest and rested his chin on top of your head. "It's okay," he muttered, though you were sure it was more to himself than to you.

*Time Skip*

You spent a long time out in the forest with Robb and Catelyn, all of you silent and thinking. Would you be allowed to marry Robb now that your family had solidified the war against his? Would you be forced to return to King's Landing? You had already decided that you would rather die than go back to your family; what they had done was far too horrible for you to remain silent. As you made your way to camp you stayed close to Robb's side as you steered through the trees and into the field where you had been living since the war began.

You could feel the eyes of Robb's men on you as you tucked yourself closer towards his body, keeping out of view. You jumped when you felt his hand come to rest on your hip, pulling you even closer as his eyes scanned the crowds, leading you to his advisors' tent, followed closely by some of the most important men in the North.