SUCCESSFUL ALLIANCE

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.

RUYAN 

The weight of the phoenix crown pressed against Ruyan's temples as she walked alone down the red carpet of the Hall of Eternal Harmony. Each step was measured and precise, the product of years of imperial training. The ceremonial fan remained steady in her hands, shielding part of her face as protocol demanded for an imperial bride. Behind it, her expression betrayed nothing of her thoughts. 

Inside, a curious hollowness expanded within her chest. Not unpleasant, merely... empty. The satisfaction of duty was nearly fulfilled, of purpose almost achieved. After all the preparation, the journey across the narrow sea, the months of showing Robb the wonders of Yi Ti, the moment of binding their houses together had finally arrived. 

But it was only the first step. 

The true completion of her mission would come with the birth of a daughter—a child carrying both the Stark warging blood and her spiritwalking gift. Such a birth wouldn't happen immediately, of course. She had already calculated that conception should ideally occur after they had been married at least two years, once they had settled into their roles and returned to Winterfell. She and Robb hadn't discussed the consummation yet, though the expectation hung unspoken. 

Unlike in Westeros, their marriage would be valid regardless of when—or even if—they shared a bed. The ceremony itself, with its ritual of bowing to heaven and earth, to ancestors, to parents, and to each other, would bind them in the eyes of Yi Ti. The physical union could wait until the politically appropriate moment. 

As she reached the centre of the hall, Ruyan paused, her fan positioned exactly as tradition dictated. The enormous doors at the opposite end would soon open to reveal her husband-to-be. Her mission taking human form. 

The curious emptiness inside her persisted. Was this what fulfilment felt like? This void where emotion should exist? Her imperial education had prepared her for many things—diplomatic challenges, political resistance, cultural adjustments—but no one had prepared her for this hollow sensation of achievement, this vacuum where satisfaction should reside. 

Perhaps it would come later, when the first child was born. When, the bloodlines were truly joined perhaps then, she would feel something beyond this empty completion of duty. 

ROBB 

The massive doors to the Hall of Eternal Harmony swung open before him, revealing a scene of such alien splendor that Robb momentarily froze, despite months of preparation for this moment. The hall stretched before him, vast and imposing, its black jade pillars soaring toward a ceiling hung with thousands of red paper cutouts. Hundreds of courtiers in elaborate silks lined the sides of the red carpet that led to the distant imperial dais. 

And there, in the center of it all, stood Ruyan. 

Even at this distance, she was a vision in crimson and gold. Her wedding robes, layers of the finest silk embroidered with intertwined phoenixes and direwolves, caught the light with every subtle movement. The elaborate phoenix crown upon her head sent cascades of golden ornaments around her face, which remained partially hidden behind the ceremonial fan she held before her. 

His bride. His captor. His diplomatic necessity. 

Robb stepped forward, forcing his legs to move with the measured dignity Master Wei had drilled into him over countless practice sessions. The robes felt strange against his skin—predominantly black and grey as he had requested, but cut in the Yi Tish style, with voluminous sleeves and layers that moved differently than Northern clothing. The crown upon his head—a masculine version of the imperial headdress—felt even stranger, its weight a constant reminder of how far he had traveled from the world he knew. 

As he walked the seemingly endless red carpet, Robb found his thoughts strangely divided. Part of him remained the resentful captive, and the Northern heir forced into a foreign alliance against his will. Another part of him—acknowledged the political reality of his position. The alliance offered advantages to the North that couldn't be dismissed. Knowledge, resources, protection against the winter that was always coming. And then there was the third part, the most confusing—the part that had, despite everything, begun to find beauty in this strange land. The part that had been awed by Yin's grand architecture, impressed by the efficiency of Yi Tish governance, stunned by their medical knowledge. The part that had, against all reason, developed a grudging respect for the woman who stood waiting for him now. 

Ruyan remained motionless as he approached, the fan hiding all but her eyes. Those dark, inscrutable eyes that revealed nothing of her thoughts. How strange to be marrying someone he still felt he barely knew, despite months in her company. She remained as enigmatic now as when they'd first met in Winterfell, her perfect imperial composure an impenetrable wall between them. 

When he reached her, they turned together to face the imperial dais. The Emperor and Empress sat upon their thrones, watching with impassive faces that reminded him eerily of their daughter's controlled expressions. Ruyan's siblings stood nearby—Crown Prince Xian solemn and watchful, Prince Jian barely containing his excitement, and Princess Ruolan with tears glistening in her eyes. 

The Chief Eunuch stepped forward, his high voice carrying throughout the vast hall. 

"Today we witness the joining of East and West. Let the ceremony begin." 

The Master of Ceremonies indicated they should first bow to the heavens and earth. Robb followed Ruyan's lead, kneeling beside her on the cushions provided for this purpose. Together, they bent forward until their foreheads touched the floor – once, twice, three times. This deep bow, he'd been taught, acknowledged the natural forces that governed all life, placing their union under heaven's protection. 

Then they faced the Emperor and Empress – Ruyan's parents who would now, by law if not by blood, become his as well. As Robb pressed his forehead to the floor before them, he felt the strangeness of his position acutely. His own parents were thousands of miles away in Winterfell, unaware of this moment that would forever change the course of their family's future. 

Finally, the Master of Ceremonies directed them to face each other. For a moment, their eyes met above Ruyan's fan. Then, in perfect synchronization, they bowed to one another—a gesture of mutual respect that completed the formal bowing ritual called the Three Bows ceremony. 

Court servants approached with a length of red silk. Robb had been instructed about this part of the ceremony – the cloth represented the bond between them, physical yet fragile, bringing them together while maintaining proper distance. He took one end as Ruyan took the other, stretching it between them. 

"With this cloth between us," Ruyan recited in Yi Tish, then translated, "I pledge my loyalty, my honor, and my life to this union." 

As Robb repeated the vow, he noted—no mention of affection or companionship, merely duty and loyalty. Perhaps that was fitting for what this marriage truly was: a political alliance, nothing more. 

Sometimes, in unguarded moments, he thought he'd glimpsed her—when she played her strange stringed instrument in the gardens, when she spoke of medical innovations with genuine passion, when she unconsciously smiled at her younger sister's antics. 

Those rare glimpses had complicated his feelings, made it harder to maintain the resentment that had sustained him in the early days of his captivity. It would be easier if she were simply a cold, calculating imperial princess. Instead, she was... what? An enigma. A contradiction. A person he was now bound to for life, yet still a stranger in all the ways that mattered. 

The Chief Eunuch sealed their union with formal words, and the Emperor acknowledged with a single, dignified nod. The drums began again as rice and flower petals showered down around them. It was done. He was married, bound to this foreign princess and her empire in a way he had never anticipated when he first rejected her offer of alliance back in Winterfell. 

Robb glanced at Ruyan, at the fan that still shielded her face, at the perfect posture and controlled movements that revealed nothing of her thoughts. His wife. And yet, looking at her now, surrounded by all the pomp and splendor of the imperial court, she seemed more distant than ever. 

ROBB 

The imperial banquet rivaled any feast Robb had ever witnessed in Westeros. Countless courses presented on jade and porcelain plates, each more elaborate than the last—lotus root carved into intricate flowers, whole fish arranged to appear as if swimming through lakes of sauce, delicate dumplings shaped like mountains and mythical creatures. The hall buzzed with activity as servants moved with practiced precision, replacing empty dishes with full ones in a continuous choreography of hospitality. 

Yet for all its splendor, the affair felt strangely formal. In the North, weddings were raucous celebrations, where even the lowest serving girl might share a dance with the groom, where bawdy jokes flowed as freely as the ale, and where the night inevitably ended with the rowdy bedding ceremony—the bride and groom carried separately to their chambers by laughing guests. 

Here, Robb sat separated from Ruyan, each of them on elevated platforms at opposite ends of the hall, receiving guests who approached with practiced bows and formal congratulations. The distance seemed symbolic of their relationship—together yet apart, bound by ceremony but separated by culture. 

"Enjoying married life already, brother?" Prince Jian appeared suddenly beside him, a flask of wine in his hand and mischief in his eyes. He refilled Robb's cup without waiting for permission. "You look as somber as my father during tax season." 

Despite himself, Robb felt his lips quirk upward. "Is it that obvious?" 

"You Northerners wear your thoughts on your faces," Jian replied, leaning closer conspiratorially. "In Yi Ti, we learn to hide our true feelings before we learn to walk. But you..." He gestured with his cup. "Anyone could read your discomfort from across the harbor." 

Robb took a long drink, welcoming the burn of the rice wine. "Where I come from, weddings are...different." 

"Ah yes, I've heard," Jian nodded sagely. "Your people carry the bride and groom to their bedchamber, tearing at their clothes while being groped, until both are naked, while shouting obscenities." 

"It's not quite—" Robb began, then stopped. Put that way, the bedding ceremony in Westeros did sound rather barbaric. "It's tradition," he finished lamely. 

Jian laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Fear not, brother. No such undignified treatment awaits you here. When the time comes, you will be escorted to the bridal chamber with all due ceremony. Though I cannot promise there won't be some ribald advice offered along the way." He winked before slipping away as suddenly as he had appeared. 

As the evening progressed, Robb found his gaze repeatedly drawn to Ruyan. She remained the perfect imperial bride, acknowledging each guest with precise movements and measured words. Even across the hall, he could sense no nervousness in her bearing, no indication that this night marked a profound change in her life. 

Does she feel anything at all? he wondered. 

When the Emperor finally signaled the end of the banquet, Robb felt a curious mixture of relief and apprehension. Court ladies surrounded Ruyan, escorting her from the hall toward the bridal chambers. She didn't look back. 

Prince Jian reappeared at his side, along with Prince Xian and several high-ranking nobles. "Come, brother," Xian said with surprising warmth. "It is time." 

THE BRIDAL CHAMBER 

The imperial bridal chamber glowed with the light of a hundred red candles. Silk hangings in shades of crimson and gold draped from the ceiling, creating a tent-like intimacy within the vast room. The enormous bed dominated the space, its carved wooden frame inlaid with mother-of-pearl, its silk coverlets embroidered with intertwined phoenixes and direwolves—symbols of their union. 

Ruyan sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed in her wedding finery, the fan held rigidly before her face as tradition demanded. The weight of the phoenix crown made her neck ache, but she maintained her perfect posture. She would remain this way until her husband arrived for the final wedding ceremonies. 

The waiting allowed her mind to wander. Strange, how in all her preparations, in all her studies of Northern customs and calculations about what this alliance would bring, she had given little thought to this moment—the intimate reality of marriage. Her education had covered the practicalities of physical union, of course, the mechanics required for producing heirs. But the personal aspects—the awkwardness, the vulnerability—those had never been addressed. 

The sound of male voices approaching pulled her from her thoughts. She straightened, adjusting her grip on the fan. The doors opened, and Robb entered, followed by her brothers and several nobles. The men were clearly in higher spirits than they had been during the formal ceremony, their faces flushed with wine and celebration. 

Prince Jian's voice carried above the others. "Remember what I told you about the third position, brother. It never fails to—" 

"That's quite enough," Prince Xian cut him off, though his eyes held uncharacteristic amusement. "Leave them be now." 

The men withdrew, the doors closing behind them with a decisive thud. Silence filled the chamber. 

Robb stood before her, his Northern features stark against the Yi Tish surroundings. He had removed his outer ceremonial robes but still wore the formal wedding garments and crown. In the candlelight, his auburn hair gleamed almost as red as the hangings around them. 

"Princess," he said, then corrected himself. "Ruyan." 

It was the first time he had used her name without her title. The sound of it in his Northern accent sent an unexpected shiver through her. 

"Lord Stark," she replied from behind her fan. "Robb." 

He stepped closer, visibly uncertain. Master Wei would have briefed him on the bridal chamber ceremonies, but knowledge and experience were different things. She decided to guide him. 

"The fan," she said softly. "You must remove it." 

Robb approached and carefully reached for the fan. Their fingers brushed as he took it from her, sending another strange shiver across her skin. As the shield of silk and ivory lowered, their eyes met directly for the first time since the ceremony. 

The intensity of his gaze caught Ruyan unprepared. Those Tully-blue eyes, so foreign to her world, studied her face with a directness that made her breath catch imperceptibly in her throat. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them charged with an unexpected tension. 

Ruyan cleared her throat softly. "The wine ceremony," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "We should proceed." 

They moved to the small table where a special wine vessel waited, its surface adorned with auspicious symbols. A single cup had been prepared with two long, red silk ribbons attached to its handles. The sight of it, the clear symbolism of what was about to transpire between them, made the reality of their marriage suddenly more tangible than all the public ceremonies that had preceded this moment. 

Ruyan took one handle, Robb the other. Their arms crossed, creating a figure eight—symbol of eternity. His skin was warmer than she expected, and the closeness required by the ceremony brought his face near enough that she could detect the faint scent of the ceremonial wine on his breath. 

"We drink together," she said, meeting his eyes as she raised the cup to her lips. He followed her lead, their arms crossed, the ribbons symbolically binding them as they shared the sweet rice wine. 

When they had both drunk, Ruyan set the cup down and took a small step back, needing distance from the unexpected intimacy of the shared cup. "Now," she said, "you must search the bridal chamber." 

Robb nodded, seeming equally relieved to have some physical distance between them. He began the symbolic search, moving around the room, lifting cushions, opening decorative boxes—looking for imaginary rivals or dangers that might threaten their marriage. 

When he reached the corner with traditional fertility symbols—a plate of selected fruits and a pair of embroidered shoes placed beneath the bed—he faltered visibly. The significance was unmistakable even to someone unfamiliar with Yi Tish customs: symbols of offspring, of the children they were expected to produce. The peaches and pomegranates represented fertility, while the tiny and ornate embroidered shoes symbolized the hope for sons. 

Their eyes met across the room, and Ruyan saw his understanding of the symbolism reflected in his gaze. A flush crept up his neck, the first crack in his careful composure she had observed all day. She felt a warmth in her cheeks, surprising herself with this uncharacteristic physical response. 

When Robb returned to stand before her, there was a new awareness between them, an acknowledgement of what marriage meant beyond the political alliance. Ruyan gestured to the edge of the bed. 

"Now," she said, her voice neutral, "you must remove my crown and pins." 

ROBB 

The gravity of the moment sank into Robb as he stepped behind her. This was perhaps the most intimate act they had yet shared—more intimate, in some ways, than the ceremonies they'd performed before the entire court. Her hair was elaborately arranged, secured by dozens of pins and ornaments beneath the weight of the phoenix crown. 

He first removed the crown, carefully lifting it from her head and placing it on its stand nearby. Then, hesitantly, he began to search for the hairpins. His fingers moved with clumsy unfamiliarity through the silken strands of her hair. 

"The longer ones first," she instructed quietly. 

He found the longer pins and removed them individually, placing them in a lacquered box on the bedside table. As more pins came free, her hair began to loosen, cascading down in places where the structure no longer held. The intimacy of the act was undeniable—this was a husband's privilege, to see his wife with her hair unbound, to be the one who released it from its formal constraints. 

The silence between them grew heavy, filled only with the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional clink of a pin placed in the box. Robb was acutely aware of her closeness, the delicate scent of jasmine that rose from her hair, and the vulnerability of the moment despite its formality. 

"I wished to discuss the consummation," Ruyan said suddenly, breaking the silence. 

Robb's fingers stilled momentarily before continuing their work. "Yes?" 

"In Yi Ti, a marriage is considered valid whether or not it is consummated on the wedding night," she explained, her voice calm and measured as if discussing trade agreements rather than intimacy. "The ceremonies we have performed today are sufficient to bind us legally." 

Robb processed this information, and his fingers were still working to free the remaining pins. "But when we perform the Northern ceremony at Winterfell, custom would require consummation," he pointed out. 

"I will do my duty on that night," she replied. "But it would be prudent to wait at least two years before attempting to conceive children." 

The practical calculation of her words struck him. It was not 'I'm not ready to share your bed' or 'I need time to get to know you better' but a strategic timeline for producing heirs. 

"Two years would allow us to settle into our roles properly," she continued. 

Robb removed the last pin, her hair falling freely down her back in a silken cascade. The transformation was remarkable—gone was the formal imperial bride, replaced by a young woman whose features seemed softer and more accessible without the elaborate structure of the ceremony surrounding her. 

He stepped around to face her, surprised to find himself searching her features for some hint of emotion beyond the practical considerations she expressed. 

"And what of...other aspects of marriage?" he asked carefully. 

A flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—crossed her face before being quickly masked. "I understand that in Westeros, attending to a husband's needs is considered part of a wife's duty, even when conception is not the goal," she said. "I am prepared to fulfil that aspect of our marriage." 

The formality of her offer caught him off guard. "And in Yi Ti?" he found himself asking. "What is the custom?" 

"Similar," she replied. "Beyond securing heirs, a dutiful wife still must attend to her husband's needs." 

Duty, needs, requirements—where was desire in this equation? Affection? He could only hope he would have what his parents had.

He reached out, tentatively tucking loose hair behind her ear. The simple gesture surprised her. "May I help you with the outer robes?" he asked. "They look heavy." 

She nodded, and he carefully helped her remove the elaborate outer layers of her wedding garments. As the weight of silk and embroidery fell away, she seemed smaller somehow, more human. 

When they stood face to face, the heavy robes removed, Robb saw something in her eyes he hadn't expected—vulnerability. Despite her chin still tilted high in that characteristic imperial posture, despite the careful control of her features, her eyes betrayed her. For perhaps the first time, he was seeing Ruyan, not just the princess. 

"We have time," he said softly, echoing the words he had spoken when they agreed to attempt friendship. "There's no need to decide everything tonight." 

Something shifted in her expression—relief, perhaps, or confusion at his response. She had expected him to either accept her offer of duty-bound physical intimacy or to demand the full consummation their marriage entitled him to. His suggestion of patience seemed to have caught her off guard. 

"I would like us to continue our friendship then," he explained. "Not as princess and lord, not as diplomatic necessities, but as people."

She studied him, those dark eyes searching his face as if trying to decipher a particularly complex cipher. "Friends," she repeated. 

"Yes," Robb confirmed. "We agreed to try, remember?" 

For a moment, they looked at each other, two people from vastly different worlds, bound together by ceremony yet still strangers in all the ways that truly mattered. Then, so briefly he almost missed it, the corner of Ruyan's mouth lifted in what might have been the ghost of a smile. 

"I remember," she said.