Um hi, thank you for clicking on this story. I should probably have you know that I'm more anxious than anything to be publishing a Game of Thrones story, especially one with an OC and so AU as it is. I should probably warn you now that updates may be infrequent but please enjoy and tell me what you think.

Anyway more onto the story. This idea came to me suddenly and I can't remember how, but I all of a sudden thought of Pirate!Robb and while he may not be much of a pirate right now I'll go into that later.

But this story is set eleven years after the death of Ned Stark, that makes Robb 27, Sansa 25, Arya 23, Bran 21 and Rickon 17. What you need to know is that after his father died Robb abandoned his duty, he became King in the North but instead decided to set sail for the seas. That means there was no Red Wedding and Catelyn is still alive.

Also Drogo is still alive too for the purpose of this story, as is Rhaego and they have two other sons.

I do hope you enjoy this story, thank you so much for reading and apologies if there are any mistakes.

I

ROBB

NAKED as the day he was born, Robb Stark stood in the window and anyone who looked up could see the sight of his body. Yet there was no shame in the man of twenty and seven's stance. His back was toned with muscles as was his entire body, but the muscles of his back rippled as his arms stretched above his head. The whore behind him stretched, blinking happily as she peered at the back of the man she had spent the night with and had paid her handsomely. She slipped from the bed, grasping the bag of coin he had passed to her.

The whore was pretty, light brown hair and eyes the colour of the ocean that surrounded Braavos. Yet, she was not enough to hold attention for Robb Stark. Slipping from the bed, the woman pulled on her gown and combed through her hair with her fingers. Lips pressed together, she turned her head to study the back of the Stark Lord. Back covered in scars from conflicts yet a tattoo that covered almost the entirety of a black, a dragon which was odd. Shivering, she headed to the door and then turned to face him, hand on the door.

"Thank you," she said behind him, "I haven't been shagged that good in a long time."

"Hm," he was distracted, staring out the window.

Looking out at the city of Braavos, Robb crossed his arms over his broad chest and narrowed his eyes. Rumours of a little assassin that roamed the streets of Braavos had Robb Stark suspicious. One description was of a boy no older than ten and two, ten and four at the most, another description of a scrawny little girl. Something inside him was urged to search for his sister, though he thought Arya had died all those years ago when his father had been beheaded. Arya would be twenty and three, no longer a girl but a woman.

Footsteps could be heard from outside the door, yet it could have been anyone in the inn. Robb picked up his trousers that were slung over one of the seats and pulled them up his strong legs. Robb Stark ran his fingers through his red brown curls that could most often be seen tied back at the nape his neck as they brushed the middle of his neck. Robb's blue eyes sharply studied the door as the footsteps stopped behind it. Instinct itched to reach over, clasping his grip on his sword but he remained frozen as someone began pounding on the door heavily.

"Robb!" He heard someone yell behind the door, "There's a letter for you."

Probably from his mother who resided in the Riverlands, waiting impatiently for the day he would rise with an army to take back the North. Yet sailing the high seas and wreaking havoc for King Joffrey suited him just fine, the little rat thought himself better than Robb just because his mother's cunt was golden. Robb Stark moved to slip back on his thin tunic and sat down on the seat to pull on his boots. He picked up his sword and moved to the door, slipping out to face the man he was his first mate, Greatjon Umber.

"Jon," Robb greeted the man. "What did Mother say this time?"

Lady Catelyn Stark was a woman insulted by her son's sudden journey to travel the high seas rather than take back the North. She had lost her sons, her daughters and only had Robb who had left Westeros for the oceans when his father had been suddenly beheaded. The North was overrun by the Boltons who had worked quickly to dispose of any influence from the Starks that were still there. Many of the Northern Lords had turned their backs on the Starks, others had lost their homes and lands to join Robb on his conquest.

Over a decade later Robb still did not feel the urge to return but knew it was only a matter of time. Robb Stark had amassed an army that had begun the day he had stepped foot in Essos. His army consisted of thieves, slaves, noblemen and even several horse lords, Dothraki, which would surely slaughter King Joffrey Baratheon. Yet it was not in Robb Stark's right to slaughter the man, it was up to Queen Daenerys Targaryen, who with her horse lord husband, had reached out to Robb so suddenly that he found himself wondering if he could trust them.

Greatjon Umber was an old ally of the Starks that had sworn fealty to Robb, a debt that could never be repaid. The old man, with his heir, were quick to follow Robb to the seas in a sign of loyalty. The two men towered over Robb who was just above six foot, yet his gaze could often he found looking up at the two men who were fierce warriors. They would never allow Robb to come under any harm even though he was able to fight off offenders himself. Greatjon had become a surrogate father in the wake of the death of his father.

"She is still furious Lady Sansa is married to Lord Tyrion Stark," Greatjon informed his King.

"Still?" Robb rolled his eyes, "It was years ago Sansa was married."

"But your sister refuses to come to her," Greatjon reminded him. "She also demands you return to take back Winterfell."

"Is there any other news?" Robb then asked, "Because it sounds like the same thing she has been complaining about for years."

"Queen Margaery has once again failed to give birth, this time it was a stillborn son," Greatjon was pleased with the progress. King Joffrey was failing to produce a King and growing even more crazed by the years that passed.

They headed out of the brothel, onto the streets of Braavos. Robb Stark avoided the beggars who attempted to reach out to grasp him, only Robb side stepped them and continued to move toward the ports. His ship was one of the largest docked, a silver wolf engraved onto the black sails. The sigil of his house was engraved onto the sails. The ship was made of a deep wood yet they had bought it with coin, off a merchant and they had not looked back since. The ship could wear any weather and was one of the fastest, Robb could not be prouder.

As the owner of the ship he was nicknamed a pirate, yet it was a title he was proud to have. The Young Wolf they called him, some even called him the Wolf Bastard but Robb Stark was not very phased by names. The names were a legend of himself, a fable that took on many rumours that only served to boast the infamy of Robb Stark. People looked to him in fear or appreciation, he found more people looked to him to deal with their fear. What did they expect? Robb would need an army to take back the North and to make sure Joffrey Baratheon did nothing to harm anyone he cared about ever again.

He strode toward the ship, nodding at his men who were up on the deck. Each man was from the North, darkened with time spent in the sun. Some had pink cheeks from the sun, others had spots across their backs or cheeks. Robb's own skin had darkened yet only a little for he was still pale, he still stood out in the streets of Braavos. His head turned as a young man with blonde hair and a nervous twitch in his step moved toward Robb. It was not usual for the men when he had news to tell his King.

"King Robb," Olyvar Frey cleared his throat. "I have received word from my father."

"What does that old bastard want?" Robb asked as he walked into his cabin on the ship, dumping his coat and sword on the chair.

"He demands you return to wed one of my sisters," Olyvar grimaced.

"I do not need his passage any longer, nor his support, and he did not attempt to stop Roose Bolton from taking the North," Robb looked down at a map of Westeros. "I will not marry your sisters."

"Understood Your Grace, I will write him a letter," the blond man moved out of the cabin and Robb Stark placed his hands on the map.

The North had been engulfed by Roose Bolton and his men as soon as Robb had abandoned Westeros and Theon Greyjoy had killed his brothers. Well, attempted to kill them as Rickon was alive and well with his mother and Bran was somewhere passed the wall with the Reed siblings. Robb looked toward the Wall where his other brother, Jon, was the Lord Commander of the Watch. Robb pulled a knife and stabbed it into the marking of Winterfell, his ancestral home that had been overrun by Boltons. He needed it back, while he held them in the palm of his hand, choked, it was not enough.

"Your Grace," the door opened to reveal Smalljon Umber. "A letter," he held it up high, waving it from side to side. "From Daenerys Targaryen."

Smalljon was a man with large stature like his father, very tall with a long, thick beard and hair. Smalljon was a fierce warrior, he could rival his father on his best days but often did not try as he accepted his father's strength. There was a tameness in Smalljon that did not belong to his father, one that had never belonged to the old Lord. Smalljon was also a man who wrote to his mother often, the woman who begged him to return home to reclaim their great seat and marry. It was a beg that most mothers asked of their sons who had followed Robb.

"Hand it over," Robb held out his hand.

Scrawled, messy handwriting consisted of a meeting set for when he arrived in Meereen. Robb enclosed the letter, it had not been written by Daenerys Targaryen, perhaps from one of her many people. Jorah Mormont was rumoured to still be with the Queen, spying for Robert Baratheon. How had that worked when Robert Baratheon was dead? Robb Stark scratched the side of his head, looking briefly back over the map before holstering his sword to his belt and pulling his long, leather coat over his shoulders to head out onto the deck.

"Grey Wind!" He heard someone's exasperation loud and clear as he came onto the deck.

High in the sky the sun beamed over them, it was warm but not warm enough that Robb was urged to pull his coat off. He looked to find his direwolf staring unblinkingly at Dacey Mormont, a tall, tough woman who barely had time for the direwolf. She seemed to be reading through a letter her mother had sent her, Maege had stayed behind when he had set sail, she was attempting to build an army in the Riverlands that were overrun with Lannisters and Lannister loyalists. It was hard for them to build a secret army, especially under the watchful eye of the Boltons and the Lannisters.

Dacey Mormont stood just shy of Robb's height, a tall woman with long limbs and a long face. Her brown hair was lobbed in a short, practical cut that grazed her chin. Dacey was a strangely beautiful woman and only grew more beautiful in a fight and in a dance. She was one of the most loyal to Robb, often backing him yet offering a challenge. There had been a few times Robb had wondered of a marriage between himself and the woman, she was older than him by six years and he was sure Smalljon would gut him if he tried. But Dacey would be a formidable wife and Queen.

"Grey Wind," he whistled and his direwolf trotted over.

"He has been whining all morning," Dacey informed her King as Robb stepped toward her.

"Is that a letter from your mother?" Robb asked.

"No, from my sister," Dacey suddenly smiled. "Lyanna is growing up so quick, she's nine and ten now… it's just so hard to imagine."

"I know," Robb cleared his throat. "Sansa is twenty and five, Rickon seven and ten."

"And Bran?"

"Twenty and one," Robb thought of Bran. Praying to the Old Gods he was safe.

Bran Stark had not been seen since he was thought to have died in Winterfell. The idea had been shattered when Rickon, six years earlier, had arrived at Riverrun dressed in Wildling garbs with Osha. Osha was a Wildling that had sworn fealty to the Starks, keeping both boys protected until Bran had urged the two of them they needed to be safe. Bran was with the children of Howland Reed, Hodor and Summer which offered Robb some sort of hope that his brother was safe.

"A good age," Dacey smiled then looked to the direwolf. "You might want to take him off the ship just before we leave."

Robb motioned for his direwolf to follow him, heading down the runway toward the docks. Merchants turned immediately at the idea of making money but Robb ignored them and Grey Wind was confident enough just to look at the Merchants. It was enough that one look by Grey Wind had the Merchants suddenly scrambling to get away from them both. Robb smirked, following his direwolf through the streets of Braavos. It was so different from Winterfell, much warmer and more crowded than Winterfell had ever been.

Robb Stark made his way through the streets, following Grey Wind who seemed to have caught a scent. Robb decided to humour his direwolf who always found something curious whenever they would arrive in new land, something that could not always be added to their collection but was nonetheless appreciated. He followed after his direwolf, people giving them a wide birth whereas if he did not have his direwolf most of the merchants would be trying to beg him to buy some of their merchandise.

Braavos was a beautiful city with buildings built closely together, neighbours able to reach each other through an opened window. The city was built around many canals that lined the streets, streets could only be reached by small bridges or sometimes even small gondolas. The buildings were works of arch, much different to the stone fortress that was Winterfell and the stone, wooden homes in Winterfell. The homes were made out of stone yet there was art in them, painted with different colours and each one more eye-catching than the last.

Turning down an alleyway, Robb placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he narrowed his eyes, following his direwolf who had his nose pressed to the stone ground. The poor turned away quickly, shivering in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to themselves in fear of being on the receiving end of the foreign beast that walked in front of them. Robb followed Grey Wind who straightened so suddenly, nose in the air. Robb readied himself for a fight as Grey Wind suddenly took off in a sprint, Robb followed after the direwolf.

"What?" He heard a Northern accent asked suddenly and Robb turned the corner.

Someone was staring at Grey Wind, frozen. They were short with dirty, brown hair bound at the nape of their neck and they stepped back slowly. They were rather small, wearing large clothing that hid their figure. From first glance the person could be ignored as a boy, eyes could run over the person and ignored them. Yet as Robb stepped closer, the person then stepping toward Grey Wind stuck in a memory recognition crossed Robb. He shivered, lowering his hand from the sword as the person knelt down and let out a cry of undisguised happiness.

It was then Robb knew, it all seemed to slide into place as a familiar smile appeared on the face of the person. Arya. Arya who was thought to be dead after escaping from King's Landing when their father was beheaded. Robb's feet carried him without thought, Grey Wind moved for his companion and he wrapped his arms around the small person who gasped. Tears slid down Robb Stark's face and he hadn't cried since the letter had arrived of news of the death of his father. Robb Stark had sobbed to himself silently, yet the tears that slid down his cheeks were not silent.

"Get off me you freak!" The person struggled, only to knee him in the privates.

Robb flinched, hands weakly falling from the tight grip and he fell to his knees. He looked up at Arya through tears in his eyes, she stepped back with a scowl on her face and he struggled to his feet.

"A-Arya," he stuttered, "You're alive."

"Arya?" Her eyebrows pulled together and the blood drained from her face, paling even further. "R-Robb… Robb!"

Wrapping his strong arms around his sister, the two of them laughed and sobbed, rocking back and forth. Arya was still small, still bony but she was a woman now which was so strange to Robb. Yet he found he had no care in the world as he held his sister that he had not seen for over a decade. Arya… what would his mother say knowing another child she had thought dead, was alive? Pulling back, Robb shook his head as his hands began to smooth the hairs that flew around her face. Arya was shaking her head, lips pressed together and tears were escaping from her eyes as she stared at her older brother.

"H-how?" She asked, voice shaking as she stared at him.

"I should be asking you that question," he then petted Grey Wind affectionately. "Good work Grey Wind."

The direwolf pressed himself against the two Stark siblings, Arya suddenly reached down with a relieved sob, running her fingers through the fur of the direwolf. Grey Wind whined, pressing himself closer to Arya who laughed like she was a child who loved her own direwolf, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Arya pressed her face into the soft fur of the direwolf and Robb reached out, touching her head softly and lowering his head. For the first time in a long while, Robb wanted home. He wanted the warmth of Winterfell, the large hearth that they would sit around.

What Robb Stark wanted was to hear his mother and Arya, the girl of ten and two, arguing again of Arya not wanting to be a lady. He wanted to hear Sansa chastising them, acting as their mother would. He wanted to hear Rickon's giggles, see the little boy following after them as he tried to be like his big brothers. Robb imagined seeing Bran walk again, even chasing after Arya and promising them he would be a knight. And Jon… Robb imagined seeing his half-brother again. In his heart, he knew that was what he wanted, he wanted his family back again. He wanted his father back, Eddard Stark could do anything, he could bring them all together.

"Robb, what are you doing here?" Arya suddenly asked her older brother as he rose to stand.

Robb Stark was tall, much taller than he had been years ago when Arya had seen him. Arya was not much taller, perhaps a few centimetres from when she had been a young girl. Arya Stark came to her brother's sternum, so she was of short stature which she had received from her mother. Robb reached out, placing his hand on his sister's shoulder and squeezing it. Neither of them said anything, Arya only wrapped her arms around her brother again and squeezed tightly. It was a moment of relief for the both of them, who never thought they would see each other ever again.

"What have you been doing here?" Robb suddenly asked his sister, "I heard about an assassin… you're the assassin?"

"I was taught by the best," she shrugged her shoulders. "What are you doing in Braavos?"

"I am a pirate," he answered casually, "Mother will be relieved to find out you're alive."

"A pirate?" Arya blinked up at him, "I never heard…"

"Never heard of the Young Wolf? Wolf Bastard?"

"No," Arya murmured, licking her lips.

"Are you alright?" Robb noticed his little sister suddenly reached out to hold the wall.

"You want to take me back to Mother, I assume?" She then looked at him, challengingly. "I will not be forced into a marriage I do not want. Father-" her voice hitched and Robb held up his hands.

"Arya," he reached out to hold both her shoulders. "Do not worry."

It did not take much convincing to lure his sister to his ship, which he promised to inform her all that had happened since she had run. To Braavos, of all places. Robb could not help the smile that crossed his face, the amazement that was shown on the face of his sister as she walked up the incline up to the ship. All those on the deck paused as Robb led what looked to be a young boy onto the deck, amazement in the child's eyes. No one noticed that it was Lady Arya Stark, who would refuse to take on the title lady, standing with hands on hips at the sails which held the sigil of the Stark house.

"Robb," Greatjon Umber cleared his throat. "Who is this new lad?"

"Lad," Robb then snickered. "Greatjon, find your son and Olyvar, meet me in my cabin."

"This is nice," Arya said as she entered the small cabin. "A map of Westeros," she observed, running her hands over it, breathing in deeply. Grey Wind took his rest on the bed of furs by the door, perched ready for action if it should arise.

"What do you want to know?" Robb asked his sister who met his eyes.

"Sansa," she breathed in deeply, "Start with Sansa."

"Sansa never married Joffrey," relief settled on her face.

"I always felt guilt for abandoning her but she never," Arya squeezed her eyes shut, "She was so stupid."

"Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, instead," Robb said the words carefully. "Joffrey marrying Margaery Tyrell."

"What?" Arya said slowly, eyebrows pulled together as she glared at her brother. "You cannot be serious."

Robb shrugged, shoulders rising slowly but small with no effort behind them. "She and Tyrion have taken Casterly Rock, Tyrion Lannister killed his father and escaped. The Lannisters tried but they could not defeat Tyrion and his army…"

"Are they on our side?" Arya demanded.

"I do not know," Robb replied honestly, a little confused to Arya's demands of sides. What did she know of the war?

"Bran, Rickon?" Arya demanded. "Are they alright?"

"Rickon is with Mother in the Riverlands," he noticed relief in his sister. "The two of them are safe with our uncles and Grandfather. They fight against loyalists like the Freys constantly, but Riverrun will not fall."

"Our uncles?" Arya echoed.

"Yes, the Blackfish and Edmure," Robb cleared his throat. "Edmure was married to a Frey, Roslin. They have a son and three daughters."

"Ah," Arya still appeared confused. "And Bran?"

"I do not know," Robb looked down at the map, his eyes running to the sketch of the Wall. "Last I heard he had sent Rickon to mother with Shaggydog and Osha."

"Osha?" Arya interrupted.

"A Wildling," Robb had no time to explain Osha. "He is passed the Wall with Jojen and Meera Reed, Hodor and Summer as well."

"W-why?"

"I do not know," Robb breathed in deeply. "Jon is Lord Commander of the Watch, he holds a close relationship with the Wildlings. At least, that was what he last wrote me."

"Our family…" Arya shook her head. "I had no idea…"

"Arya…" Robb stepped forward to offer her some sort of comfort when the door opened.

It revealed the men he had sent for and Greatjon Umber lumbered in, "Who is the lad, Your Grace?"

"Your Grace?" Arya mocked, nose curled.

"Men," Robb stood to the side proudly. "My sister, Arya, has been returned to us."

"It is true?" Greatjon's eyes seemed to fill with relief, "This is Princess Arya Stark?"

He could hear his sister echo the title of Princess and Robb stepped forward, proudly. "Yes," Robb smiled at his men. "Arya Stark has returned."