THE MOON

Author's Note: This is a non-profit fanfiction based on A Song of Ice and Fire. It is part of a larger story world I plan to adapt into an original novel. All names, places, and affiliations may change in the future.

ROBB

The northern province of Yi Ti gleamed under starlight, its jagged mountains forming dark silhouettes against the night sky. It had been nearly three weeks since Robb had proposed friendship as his nameday request, three weeks of cautious conversation and careful observation as they toured the mining operations along the border with the Jogos Nhai plains.

The tour had redrawn his plans. What he'd seen in those mountains—he couldn't ignore it. The Yi Tish mining techniques—their ability to carve through mountains or extract ore from deep shafts in months rather than the years it would take Northern miners—represented exactly the kind of advancement the North desperately needed. Their rich mineral deposits remained largely untapped due to insufficient knowledge and resources. With such methods, Winterfell's coffers could be filled within a generation.

More impressive still were the border defenses. The plains beyond the mountains were home to the feared Jogos Nhai raiders, yet Yi Tish settlements thrived without fear. Advanced weaponry, strategic fortifications, and disciplined garrisons maintained peace with minimal bloodshed—another stark contrast to the constant raiding along the Northern borders.

Throughout these weeks, Robb had studied Ruyan as carefully as he studied Yi Tish innovations. Their attempt at friendship had yielded modest but significant results. She was trying—he could see that now—though emotional connection remained difficult for her. The wall between them had thinned, but not broken.

Little by little, he'd gathered fragments of understanding: how she would fall silent mid-conversation, gathering her thoughts before continuing; how her eyes would flash when he lashed out in frustration, revealing that her composure wasn't natural but hard-won through discipline; and how her siblings—even the Crown Prince, who should have been equally reserved—showed genuine affection for her while she struggled to return it in kind.

He still hadn't witnessed her claimed magical abilities, though he'd noticed wild birds approaching her without fear, eating from her hand as if domesticated. A coincidence, perhaps, or simply the result of patience and stillness—qualities Ruyan possessed in abundance.

After weeks of rumination, Robb had reached his decision. If the alliance was inevitable—if the Emperor would have his way regardless—then the wisest course was to negotiate favourable terms while he still had leverage. His freedom of choice had been compromised, but he could still shape the outcome.

The moon hung full and bright above the courtyard when he found her. Ruyan stood alone at the stone balustrade, her face lifted toward the silver orb, her expression uncharacteristically open in what she believed was solitude. There was a longing in her eyes that resonated with something inside him—a yearning that transcended their differences.

"You seem drawn to the moon when it's full and bright," Robb said quietly, approaching but maintaining a respectful distance.

She didn't startle at his presence—she rarely did—but acknowledged him with a slight inclination of her head. The moonlight silvered her features, transforming her from imperial princess to something more ethereal, more vulnerable.

"Do you have a reason for this inclination?" he pressed gently when she remained silent.

"It is beautiful," she answered simply. "Has always been."

"When I look at it, it reminds me of home," Robb offered, his voice softening with memory. The same moon that shone over these strange mountains also illuminated Winterfell's ancient stones, where his family slept beneath its light.

"The home you have always longed for." There was something in her voice—a wistfulness, perhaps, or understanding—that caught his attention. After a moment, he asked, "Does it remind you of something?"

The question seemed directed inward rather than at him. Robb waited, having learned that patience sometimes yielded more than persistence where Ruyan was concerned.

When she finally spoke, her words were so quiet he had to lean slightly closer to hear them. "Whenever I look at it, I feel I should remember something I have long forgotten."

The admission hung between them, unexpectedly personal. In those words, Robb glimpsed something authentic—a crack in the perfect imperial facade. He found himself wondering what memories eluded her, what fragments of herself had been sacrificed to become the flawless creature her father required.

They stood in companionable silence, both gazing upward at the celestial body that had witnessed countless human dramas across millennia. The same moon had shone over Bran the Builder as he raised Winterfell's walls, over the first emperors of Yi Ti as they established their ancient dynasty. It connected them across time and distance, this shared witness to their civilizations' long histories.

"Your reason for seeking me out this late at night?" she finally asked, her perceptiveness cutting through the moment.

Robb took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling firmly on his shoulders. "I will accept the alliance," he stated, his voice steady despite the momentous nature of his words. "And I have terms for it. Both political and personal."

She nodded, unsurprised. Had she anticipated this? Had she seen his calculations shifting with each new wonder they'd witnessed? "The diplomatic terms we can discuss after I review your formal requests," she said practically. Then, with a hint of caution: "And the personal?"

"You will apologize to my parents when we return north," he began, watching her face carefully for any reaction. "And we are to be partners if we are to be husband and wife. We will be equals in this marriage. Decisions will always be discussed together."

He expected resistance to the first condition at least. A princess apologizing to anyone, even the Lord and Lady of Winterfell, seemed contrary to everything he understood about imperial protocol. Yet her expression remained unreadable.

"You can write all your terms—personal and political—and I will review them," she said simply.

Her ready agreement surprised him, but he nodded acceptance. "I'll have them prepared by tomorrow."

As he turned to leave, he glanced back at her. Ruyan had returned her gaze to the moon, her profile etched in silver against the night sky.

In that moment, a realization crystallized in his mind: she was like the moon itself. Beautiful and bright, yet distant. Illuminating everything around her while remaining untouchable. And most of all—lonely. Isolated in her perfection, separate from the world she influenced.

But the moon, for all its distance, was not immutable. It waxed and waned, revealed and concealed. Perhaps Ruyan, too, contained multitudes beneath her unchanging surface. Perhaps, with time and patience, he might come to know them.

As Robb walked back to his chambers, the decision he had made felt increasingly right. Not perfect—nothing about their situation could ever be that—but right for the North, for his family, and perhaps, in ways he was only beginning to understand, for himself as well.

Behind him, Ruyan remained in the courtyard, her face lifted to the moonlight, searching for something she could not name but sensed was important—a fragment of herself, perhaps, that had been lost in the making of an imperial princess.

NED

Ned Stark read his son's letter for the third time, his weathered fingers tracing over Robb's familiar handwriting. The solar was quiet save for the crackling of the hearth fire, casting long shadows across the stone walls of Winterfell. Outside, winter winds howled, as if the North itself reacted to this news.

After nearly two years of uncertainty, they finally had clarity. Robb had decided to marry Princess Ruyan of Yi Ti.

"Father, Mother," the letter began, "After careful consideration, I have agreed to marry Princess Ruyan. This decision was not made lightly, but with the understanding that this alliance offers unprecedented opportunities for the North's future."

Robb had secured remarkable terms for this union. Their future granddaughter—who would one day marry back into the imperial family—would remain in the North until her sixteenth nameday. More significantly, she would not be merely a consort but recognized as an imperial princess in her own right, with all privileges and protections of that status. An unprecedented concession from a civilization notorious for viewing outsiders as barbarians.

"The child will not be a political pawn," Robb wrote firmly. "She will be raised as a Stark first, knowing our ways and our values, with the knowledge that her eventual position as imperial princess carries both privilege and responsibility."

The financial aspects were equally impressive. Princess Ruyan would bring a substantial dowry—enough to fund immediate improvements throughout the North—along with a lifetime stipend that would continue regardless of political circumstances. Experts in agriculture, medicine, mining, and engineering would accompany her, beginning work immediately upon their arrival.

"I've arranged for funds to be deposited at the Iron Bank of Braavos," the letter continued. "The account details are enclosed. This represents the first installment of Ruyan's dowry, intended to prepare suitable accommodations at Winterfell and establish residences in Winter Town and White Harbor. The amount may seem excessive, but I assure you it is a fraction of what has been negotiated."

She would bring her household as well, though Robb had not specified numbers, promising details once arrangements were finalized. It was clear that this represented a permanent demographic shift: Yi Tish people establishing communities in the North, bringing their knowledge, culture, and wealth with them.

Ned ran a hand over his face, feeling the weight of responsibility settle anew on his shoulders. They would need to speak with their bannermen, carefully managing the transition. The story they had maintained—that Robb was on a diplomatic mission at the request of his father—had been accepted, if somewhat sceptically. Now they would build on that foundation: the mission had been successful beyond expectation, resulting in an alliance that would strengthen the North for generations.

"Is it true?" Catelyn's voice cut through his thoughts as she entered the solar, her face pale with controlled fury. "He's actually going through with this marriage?"

Ned gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit, Cat. Read what he's written."

Reluctantly, she took the letter, her eyes scanning the contents with growing disbelief. "This dowry... these arrangements... they're treating this as if it were a normal alliance."

"Keep reading," Ned urged quietly.

Catelyn continued through the letter, where Robb addressed the more personal aspects of his decision:

"I know this news will be difficult, especially after everything that's happened. I want to assure you both that I have not been coerced into this decision, nor have I forgotten the circumstances that brought me to Yi Ti.

The marriage terms I've negotiated represent the maximum I could secure, given the reality of our situation. The Emperor will have his alliance—if not through me, then through another avenue that might prove far less advantageous to the North.

As for Princess Ruyan herself—she is not what I initially believed. She is a complex person shaped by imperial expectations that are far more rigid than anything we practice in Westeros. Regardless of how this arrangement began, she will be my wife, and I ask that you treat her as such when we return.

I cannot claim to love her, but I have come to respect her, and perhaps that is a firmer foundation than many marriages begin with. You both know about beginning and building a political marriage into something more."

"How can we even treat this woman?" Catelyn whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "This... princess who lived under our home under false name? She represents everything about this situation that is wrong. She'll never share power, never truly become part of our family."

Ned leaned forward, covering her hand with his own. "Robb believes otherwise."

"She'll remain the Emperor's creature," Catelyn insisted, "working toward his ambitions in our midst. These people kidnapped our son when diplomacy failed to achieve their aims. What kind of woman allows—or gods forbid, orchestrates—such an act, then proceeds to marry the man she's wronged?"

Her eyes returned to the letter, continuing to the final paragraphs:

"One of my conditions for this marriage is that Ruyan and I will be equal partners. All decisions will be made together, with mutual respect. She has agreed to this, along with a formal apology to you both upon our arrival in Winterfell.

I know the path forward will not be easy. Two vastly different cultures rarely come together. But I've seen what Yi Ti can offer the North—agricultural methods to improve our yields even in harsh conditions, medical knowledge that could save countless lives during winter, and mining techniques that could triple our output from the mountains.

Trust thI have made this choice with clear eyes and weighed all the factors. I return to you not as a defeated captive but as the heir to Winterfell, who has secured unprecedented advantages for our people.

We will inform you of our arrival ahead of time. Please prepare for not only my return but also for welcoming my future wife and the beginning of a new chapter for the North.

Your loving son, Robb."

Catelyn lowered her hands, clutching the letter against her chest as if it could somehow bring her closer to her firstborn. "Oh, Ned," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. What have they done to our boy?"

"They've forced him to become a man before his time," he said quietly. "And by all evidence, he's done so admirably."

"But to marry her—to bind himself to the very people who took him—"

"He's made his choice, Cat. Our son sees advantages we cannot yet fully comprehend." Ned's voice grew firm. "And he asks us to respect that choice, to welcome his bride as our daughter-by-law."

"And what of the Iron Throne?" Catelyn asked, rising to pace the room. "When Robert learns we've aligned ourselves with a foreign power—brought their people to our shores, accepted their gold, married the heir to Winterfell to their princess—what then? You know his temper, Ned.

Ned's expression darkened. Robert's paranoia about foreign influences had only grown since taking the throne. The marriage of the heir to the North to a foreign princess would certainly provoke a reaction, though whether diplomatic protest or outright rage remained to be seen.

"I've considered that," he admitted. "But the Crown has no authority over marriage alliances between Great Houses and foreign powers, provided no treason is involved. This isn't the first time a Westerosi noble has married into an Essosi family."

"None with the power and ambition of Yi Ti," Catelyn countered.

They fell silent, both contemplating the complex political waters they would soon need to navigate.

"When will they arrive?" Catelyn finally asked, her voice steadier.

"Appriximately six months or more, according to his letter. They'll land at White Harbor, where we'll meet them with a proper Northern welcome." Ned's voice carried resolve. "Whatever our private feelings, the North will see us welcome this alliance with all honour and hospitality we can muster."

Catelyn nodded, her posture straightening with the dignity she had seen through countless challenges as Lady of Winterfell. "Then we have preparations to make. The Princess of Yi Ti will find the North ready to receive her, whatever complications her arrival brings."

As she moved toward the door, determination replacing despair in her bearing, Ned hoped that Robb's assessment of his bride proved accurate. For the sake of their son and the North, he hoped Princess Ruyan truly was more than the Emperor's instrument.

Only time would tell if the Yi Tish princess could adapt to the harsh realities of Northern life—and if the Starks could adapt to having an imperial princess in their midst.