It was an odd party that rode north from King's Landing. There was Ned, of course; or rather Lord Eddard Stark, who led the Northern armies home. Robarra rode at his side, not as his friend or companion but as his wife. It was a distinction she was still getting used to, mainly because things didn't feel that different at all. Yes, they shared a tent and bedroll at night. Yes, they exchanged far more casual touches than before, without concerning themselves with what others might think. But the dynamic between them was the same as it had ever been, teasing and comfortable. 

It was a strong friendship that bound them together instead of a great romance, but Robarra preferred things this way. Despite the fact she had previously been married to a prince - the would-be king, one of the most handsome men in Westeros, the archetype of every love ballad - she was far happier now than she had ever been. 

The air grew colder and more crisp the further they travelled up the Kingsroad, and it smelled like freedom.

Lyanna often rode with them, baby Jon strapped to her front. When she wasn't carrying the baby, the girl often went tearing off on her horse, racing many of the younger guards and always winning too. Robarra was reminded how young Lyanna really was, of how twisted Rhaegar's nonsense had been, how it was a wonder the girl could still smile after the deaths of her father and brother, and months of what was essentially rape. Then she told herself off for being old, morose and boring, and kicked her own horse into a gallop to join in.

Robarra's own daughters tended to ride with various members of the Baratheon and Targaryen guards that were travelling with them. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard were travelling north as well, upholding their oath to keep Rhaegar's children - all his children, not just his trueborn daughters - safe. Of course, it was no coincidence that by remaining in the Kingsguard they would not be sent to the Wall with Jaime Lannister. She couldn't blame them, and was rather glad for their company besides; Ser Arthur was a very pretty face, and Ser Oswell's dark wit had her in stitches of laughter. If Ned had been another man, he might have grown irate with how well she got on with other men. But as it was, she doubted the thought even crossed his mind.

The presence of the two Kingsguard seemed to put Rhaella more at ease, at least. Whilst dowager queen did not appear to be mourning her husband at all, she was grieving heavily for her son, and was definitely distant towards Ned, the man who killed him. Even Rhaella seemed to understand the stupidity and pointless cruelty of Rhaegar's actions in the end, however, for there didn't seem to be any anger against those who fought against him, only sadness that her firstborn was lost so tragically. 

Viserys, on the other hand, was angry. The boy rode at his mother's side, clinging to her one minute, glaring and insulting any Northmen that dared to approach the next. He spat hate and vitriol at Ned whenever the man even glanced at him, a dislike that extended to Robarra. Whilst her temper flared hot at an eight year old calling her a 'whore who married the brute that killed her husband' (she had laughed derisively in Viserys' face and said he didn't even know what the word whore meant), later on she had to acknowledge that of course it would be awful for any young boy to be torn away from his home, his father and brother dead. 

That didn't make him any easier to deal with, and Robarra had (in an unusual display of tact) taken to avoiding him as much as possible lest she lose her temper with him and upset Rhaella. Hopefully Viserys would become less hateful as he grew older.

At least he was very protective of little Daenerys. The baby was not much younger than Jon Snow, and spent her days strapped to Rhaella's front. They had at least three nursemaids with them from King's Landing, as unlike her bastard nephew, the little princess was small and fragile and desperately needed to put on weight. The birth had been hard on the girl's mother too, though Rhaella never put up any protest at the weeks of riding.

Robarra had never been to the North before, which was a travesty really, considering how long she'd known Ned. The Neck was unpleasant - eerie green swamps with hanging moss from claw-like trees, everywhere damp and chilly, and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by something unseen - but once they reached the impressive yet crumbling castle of Moat Cailin, the journey improved significantly. They rode across wide, sweeping moorland, through dense pine forests, over wild hills with craggy mountains in the distance. 

The North was beautiful, albeit very cold even as autumn turned to spring. The few towns and villages they passed had many leagues between them, separated by vast swathes of wilderness. On and on they went, the bannermen who had fought in the Rebellion filtering off at various points, to return to their own lands. 

Ned had warned her that the North might take a while to warm up to the idea of a southron as Lady of Winterfell, let alone one who had been the wife of their enemy. Robarra had taken this as a challenge, and over the course of their journey had made friends with many of the northern lords, both powerful and minor. Obviously there were some who disliked her loudmouthed nature, but she could be very charming, her undeniable charisma bringing around even the most grudging men. She was generous too, freely offering favours such as fostering their sons at Winterfell, taking their daughters and sisters for her handmaids, and thanking them profusely for the sacrifices made in the Rebellion.

"Everyone at court seemed to think it was an act, but it truly is not," She said to Ned as they rode together one morning, after he had remarked on her uncanny ability to make friends. She got the impression he found it rather unnerving, reserved and grim-faced as he was, though he was certainly glad that she had managed to win over most of his bannermen so fast. "I like talking to people, and they like me,"

"Gods know why," He said, though she caught the faint smile that others may have missed. "I feared Lord Karstark's glare was going to burn a hole in the table when you did your best to outdrink Greatjon Umber,"

"You can't win them all," She shrugged, laughing. "His son looked rather impressed, though,"

"That boys is barely four-and-ten," Ned said. "He was paying more attention to your chest than what you were drinking,"

Robarra roared with laughter, unabashed even as several others looked around at her.

"Whatever works,"

Her husband shook his head, despairing.

Winterfell was visible from very far away, surrounded by moorland as it was, with the Wolfswood stretching away into the distance. The great grey castle was enormous, much bigger than the Red Keep, as well as Storm's End, with two impossibly high walls, and a sprawling, mighty stronghold. There was a pleasant-looking town beneath the walls, and the Stark banner hung from the gatehouse.

It was clear from the reception they received that the Starks were beloved and greatly respected in their own lands. Of course, there were also soldiers coming back from war, reuniting with loved ones. People mourned, too. Lord Rickard and Brandon, as well as the common soldiers who didn't make it home.

Inside the castle was nowhere near as grand as the Red Keep, but rich tapestries hung from the walls, expensive rugs on the bedchamber floors, and the walls seemed to eminate heat, which Ned told her was from the hot springs beneath the castle. The godswood was unnerving, especially the heart tree with its solemn face, but Ned spent a lot of time there; Robarra got the sense that the trees knew she wasn't of the North. Same with the crypts; a Stark place, not fit for any other. But the rest of the castle and its people were warm and welcoming towards her and her daughters. Though that might have been through Robarra's skill at winning over the household; they were less warm to Rhaella and Viserys, as the dowager queen was still sad and distant, the former prince rude and aggressive.

This was a good place to have brought her daughters, Robarra decided. Anyone looking to place Visenya on the throne instead of Stannis - or even Rhaegar's bastard (but only) son, Jon - would struggle here, as it was nothing like the court in King's Landing, and hundreds of leagues away besides.

Not that there weren't attempts. Robarra had only been in Winterfell a week when some bastard tried to kidnap her daughter. Thank the gods she had been in Visenya's chambers at the time. Her heart had stopped in its chest when an unfamiliar, ragged-looking man had appeared in the doorway, unsheathing a knife and pointing it at her.

"Give me the princess, Lady Stark - she won't be harmed,"

The anger had set in shortly after, overpowering the fear.

"Over my dead body," She had stepped in front of her daughter, shouting for guards. 

The intruder had laughed, moving closer.

"I don't want to kill you, but I've been promised a lot of money to do this. Don't be stupid, woman - you're unarmed, what could you possibly do?"

But she wasn't unarmed, was she? On instinct, Robarra grabbed a moderately-sized hammer left by the workmen who had been in here the last couple of days. Without even thinking she had smashed it over the would-be kidnapper's head with a sickening crack before he could even blink. Likely the sheer surprise of her doing such a think had allowed her to get through the man's guard. 

He didn't drop right away, though did stagger, clearly badly hurt. He was with it enough to lash out with the knife, however, catching her on the arm she raised to block it. Whilst she greatly enjoyed hunting, and was very good at it, Robarra had never been trained in hand-to-hand combat and was regretting it in this moment. Her sheer rage at the prospect of someone sneaking in here and making off with her daughter was enough for her to keep attacking despite the pain, however. The attacker was dazed and clumsy from her initial blow (thankfully, otherwise she wouldn't have stood a chance) and it only took two more blows with the hammer to have him out cold. She wasn't sure if he'd wake up, and didn't really care.

The guards burst into the room to find Lady Stark stood over an unconscious, bleeding intruder, her sobbing daughter on one hip, a bloody hammer in her other hand, as she immediately started to yell at them, loud enough to make the front few flinch. 

"Where in the seven hells were the sorry lot of you? Isn't it your fucking job to make sure scum like this doesn't get in? My daughter could have been kidnapped or killed, whilst you loitered around at your own leisure! ..."

Her tirade went on for several minutes, and anyone who dared speak up quickly fell silent as her fury turned on them. She had received several wounds herself, and it was only as the adrenaline wore off that she began to feel them fully. One rather deep slash in her abdomen, another on her arm that bled a lot, a small nick on her face. She finished her rant rather quickly after that, setting Visenya down, where the girl clung to her skirts.

"... And one of you is going to have to get me to a maester before I lose too much blood,"

They brought the maester to her, which was probably easier on reflection. Ned came too, face grimmer than she had seen in a while as he coldly ordered the unconscious attacker to be taken to a cell.

"If he wakes, question him," He told the guards. "If not, burn the body and throw the remains on the midden heap,"

"I doubt he'll wake. I hit him quite hard," Robarra told him from where her wounds were being stitched and dressed.

"They told me you fought him off with a hammer," His lord's face expression slipped slightly, allowing a hint of incredulity through.

"Wasn't anything else on me except an eating knife," She shrugged, wincing as it jostled her wound. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Seeing as most of that blood isn't yours, clearly," 

"I think you should send me to Bear Island after this. I'd do well training with Lady Maege," She was joking, and despite the fact he had clearly worried for her, Ned smiled faintly.

"I just might, if there's going to be more attempts like this," He paused. "Did he say who he was trying to kidnap Visenya for?"

"No. Realistically it could be anyone who wants a contender for the Iron Throne, though I wouldn't be too concerned if that useless lump was the best man they could find for the job," 

"I'm writing to your brother anyway,"

"What's Stannis going to do about any of it?" She snorted. 

"He is the king, remember?"

"A frightening thought. No doubt by the time we return to King's Landing, he'll have outlawed drinking and dancing and fun,"

"You don't give him enough credit. I think he'll be a good king,"

"You're nearly as dour as he is," She replied, and he shook his head.

"You're impossible. For that, I'll tell the next kidnapper they can take you instead,"

Robarra laughed.

"What a kind, loving husband I have," But she wouldn't have it any other way.

*

Credit for the hammer idea goes to someone in the comments (sorry I can't remember your username but thanks!).

Just the epilogue to go now! I've really enjoyed writing this story, the tone is a lot less serious to what I'm used to doing and it really has been a breath of fresh air. Please comment any further ideas or requests for genderbend fics. So far I've drafted Rhaegar (Rhaegelle), Stark kids (Robarra, Sansen, Aryen, Branda and Rella)(better name suggestions would be appreciated haha), Daemon Targaryen (Daena, the rogue princess), 'Baratheon' kids (Jocelyn, Mercillon and Tommasin) and Eddard Stark (Eldarra 'Nell').

Thanks so much for reading, please take a few seconds to leave feedback in the comments/reviews as I love seeing anything from readers.