If You'll Have Me

Philippa overslept the day King Robert finally graced the gates of Winterfell. She rolled out of her bed as quickly as she could and changed into a cleaner pair of dark breeches and boots before slipping into a nicer, dark blue tunic. With haste she pulled her long, dark hair over one shoulder and secured it into a braid and ran out to begin her duties once more.

There were people gathered around the courtyard, packed tightly to get a glimpse of their king and his family. Philippa wasn't inclined to lay eyes on the royals, they were people just like she and her family were - and from what she'd heard they were rather a despicable crowd of people. If the rumors that swirled about the queen and her twin brother were true... Philippa shuddered to think what would happen to her if someone were to hear her thoughts.

She watched from the outside of the stables, not to get a look at golden heads or the fat king and his army, but to see the man that had occupied her thoughts of late.

Philippa watched as King Robert shook Robb's hand - he looked the part of Lord of Winterfell with his strong arms and piercing gaze, but Philippa knew that his mind was his best weapon. Over the crowd of people Robb caught her eye and a large, boyish smile overtook his face. He winked at her, his blue eyes shining with mirth. Philippa thought her hair might spark fire if it touched her face, but she smiled at him anyway, then ducked her head and went into the stables. She got to work at once, brushing and feeding and exercising the horses with her gentle care.

Once she finished with House Stark's steeds she sat on a bale of hay to rest for a moment. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wooden beam behind her, listening to the horses eat and play.

"Philippa," Robb greeted, dressed handsomely in his dark furs. "Are you well today?"

"I am, thank you, my lord." Philippa looked him over, blushing. "And you?"

Robb grinned up at her. "I am much better now that I'm with you."

Philippa felt her stomach flip and held in the giggle that threatened to pass her lips - she'd never felt like more of a love-struck maiden in all her life. "You are too kind, my lord."

"Now, what I have I told you about -"

Just then the swooping sound of rustling fabric and the clinking of armor cut them off. They both turned to see the source of their interruption - one of the golden haired bastards standing in the doorway of the stables. The prince's hair was cropped short and his eyes bore straight through them. His thin lips twisted into a frown and he stepped forward. Behind him was a large man, scarred and angry looking. Philippa remembered him sitting atop a large, black courser in the courtyard - it was The Hound.

"If I caught my stable boy sitting upon his arse instead of doing his duties I'd have him whipped through the streets," the you prince seethed, pointing at Philippa. "And you! How dare you not bow in the presence of your prince, wench?"

Philippa's eyes widened and she quickly knelt, her head bowed. She'd heard of his wrath and did not want to face it herself. "My apologies, Prince Joffery."

The boy spat on the ground beside her, his hands on his hips. "I do not need your apologies, stable girl. Lord Robb, should I have my father made aware of her insolence? I could have her punished."

Robb glared at the Prince, his blue eyes caught fire. "There is no need for that, my Prince," his words were poison. "She is a friend, and she has finished her duties as you can well see. I have only come to invite her to the feast as my honored guest."

Philippa's head shot up, but she remained knelt on the ground. "My lord.."

"Philippa, if you will do me the honor?"

Joffery snarled. "You could have your pick of any woman in this frozen wasteland and you pick her? The cheapest whores in King's Landing look better."

"Then have yourself one of your whores, Prince Joffery," Robb barked. "And I will have Philippa."

Joffery said nothing, he simply turned on his heel and stalked out of the stables, his face a horrible, blotchy red. The large man stood there for a moment, his eyes raking over the pair before he, too, turned to leave.

"You will cause such trouble for me?" Philippa asked quietly. "The Prince won't take kindly to your suggestions."

"I go to war for you." Robb said gently, and held out his hand for Philippa to take. She grasped it and he raised her from the ground. She stood straight and he kept her hand still clutched tightly in his. "I meant what I said, Philippa. If you'll have me."

Philippa swallowed tightly and her heart beat wildly against her chest. "Why me?"

"Because you are the most beautiful thing I've seen in all my years. Because you are the most gentle person I've ever met," Robb began to list his reasons. "And because you make me happier than all the glory and gold in the world could. I would like nothing more for you to be by my side as the Lady of Winterfell when it falls to me."

Tears filled Philippa's eyes, but she smiled all the same. "You honor me, my lord."

Robb's grip tightened on her hand. "Say you will."

"B-But," Philippa began to protest, but Robb cut her off by closing the space between them. He bent down slightly, pressing his lips to hers, and for a moment Philippa thought she'd explode. His kiss was as soft and warm as she had imagined. His hands were gently running up and down the length of her back, pulling her even closer against him. As quickly as it had happened, the kiss was over.

Robb cupped her face in his large hands, his eyes boring into her own. "I will make you the happiest woman in all of Westeros, Philippa. I swear it."

"You already have," Philippa breathed.