Friend to Robb Stark

You were y/n Snow. A bastard. And the best friend to your king in the North. From a young age, you had worked in winterfell. Lady catelyn took a liking to you and treated you like one of her own. Whilst you once had a crush on Jon Snow, fellow bastard, those feelings were crushed when he went to Castle black. Robb helped you get through it. He was your shoulder to cry on. And now, you were helping him win a war

You were the best archer the seven kingdoms had. You had been requested to work for Robert baratheon when he was king. You were only 12 at the time, but you refused, not wanting to leave winterfell and your new found family. You could shoot a rabbits eye from 400 metres away. You made your own bow and your own arrows, claiming they were the best in the seven kingdoms. And you were right. They sored through the air. And thanks to your skill, they hit the target each and every time

You were stood around the table, as the men moved pieces around the map, each piece representing a different army. They were making war tactics. As you stood and watched

"We can attack now. We have the men. We have the courage. We are ready. Joffreys men fight because if they don't, their family will be murdered. Your men fight because they believe in a brighter future with you as their king" one advisor said. Robb looked unsure

"What do you think of this y/n?" He asked

"I think you're the king in the North. The king in the North should stay in the North. You don't need seven kingdoms to rule. You have the respect of the North. Rule the North, make an agreement with joffrey. Once the south see how much better you are than that lannister cunt, they too will follow you. It is a matter of patience" you tell him

"Bullshit. You gonna take advise from a woman? Thought Kings were supposed to be men" an advisor scoffed

"I may be a woman. But I am just as much a northerner as you. Take my advise. Or don't. Either way, winter is coming, and if we don't focus on feeding our people, then you'll be ruling a graveyard. Innocent lives are being lost for your stupid war. Use your fucking head! No one cares anymore. We are cold and hungry and we want to go home in peace. Make an agreement with joffrey. The North love you robb, but soon enough, they will wonder what they are fighting for. They'll lose hope. The more battles, the more friends they lose. You won't have an army if you aren't careful"

"If anything, I'd say you were scared my lady" the advisor said

"No. Not scared. Realistic. You're king in the North robb. Stop, whilst you have this. Otherwise, you'll end up with nothing" you walked off, wanting no part in their petty game of war

You were sat under a tree, looking out at the horizon away from camp when robb came and sat next to you

"I didn't realise you had doubts about the war" he began, both of you looking away

"He's right" you said

"Who's right?"

"Your advisors are right. I'm scared. Terrified in fact. You have northerners of all ages fighting for you Robb. During the last battle, when we captured ser jaime, I watched a boy, no older than 14, stabbed in the neck. I wanted to hold him and comfort him as he died. But all I could do was fight and kill over his body. It doesn't feel worth it anymore. I want sansa and arya home. I want to avenge your father. But why must so many innocent people die in order for that to happen?" You ask, looking at him as tears roll down your cheeks

"You can leave. You can go back to winterfell to be with bran and rickon. I'll arrange-"

"No robb. I'll fight for you until I die. I swear it to you. By the old gods and the new. But that doesnt mean I'll enjoy war. How can I enjoy it? When every day I'm watching people die. Its odd. They are all so patriotic and proud to serve you. Until they die. The moment they realise what's happening, I see the hope leave their eyes. They no longer care who sits on the iron throne. All they want is their future back" robb wraps an arm around you, kissing your forehead as you sob into his shoulder

"War is violent. People die. But they die hero's"

"No. No you're wrong. They are only hero's if they own lands. Only hero's if they are at the front of the politics. They are only hero's if we win. History is written by the victorious. These men could be portrayed as rebels. Villains. Traitors. Just as easily as you can call them heros" you stand up, brushing your self off of any dirt and wiping your cheeks

"I will die fight for you. You are like a brother to me robb and I love you with all of my heart. But I am begging you, ask king joffrey for an agreement. If he declines, that's on him. But please, atleast try to stop the fighting" robb nods, hugging you tightly and agreeing.

He lied. Robb never wrote to joffrey. He never tried to stop the war. Whilst you had hope, robb knew the realism. Joffrey would kill him the second he gets the chance. Kill his sisters and his mother. Kill you. So here you are. Fighting in another battle. Mud flying everyone. Blood being sprayed as you stumble over dead bodies. You catch sight of robb fighting, trying to make your way over to him and then you feel it. Straight through your heart. And back out again

The world around you continued as you fell to the ground. You wanted to be held. Where was robb? You needed him to tell you it would be OK. Needed his comfort and his love. But it wasn't until the battle had ended that he found you. Cold grey, blood dried up around your mouth and your chest, your dull eyes staring back at him

That was enough to make him give up hope. If only he had listened to you. He could've atleas tried. He knew how scared you were. Yet you were left to die exactly how you described to him. Alone. Afraid. With no comfort. Fighting another man's war. Robb could never forgive himself. War was war. People die. That's what everyone told him. But from that day until his last, robb realised something. War is not just war. War is children losing their fathers. Its mothers losing their sons. Its brothers losing brothers. And its robb losing his best friend. His sister. His most trusted advisor. It was robb losing y/n.