![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyjeyneofthecragRating: R
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R.R. Martin
Characters: Robb Stark, Jeyne Westerling. Mentions of Theon Greyjoy and Bran Stark
Setting: While Robb is at The Crag. Late A Clash of Kings/Early A Storm of Swords
Word Count: 796
SPOILER ALERT IF YOU ONLY WATCH THE SHOW
Robb woke from troubled dreams. The room was dark, the fire burned down to only embers, and in the darkness he could still see the image of Theon, knife in hand, following his brother Bran as he tried to crawl away. Theon, who he’d known since they were boys. Theon, who he had loved like a brother. Theon, who had betrayed him, killed Bran and Rickon, and set their flayed heads on pikes at the gate of his home. His heart twisted in his chest, contorted by betrayal and loss.
Beside him Jeyne slept. She lay on her stomach, arms under her pillow, the linens barely covering the small of her back. He pulled the blankets over her, lightly touched her arm with the back of his hand, and left the bed. Finding his breeches on the floor he slipped them on before taking the chair by the window. Outside the world was quiet, the sky just starting to turn from black to grey on the horizon.
He looked back at the bed and watched Jeyne’s back as it slowly rose and fell. His arm itched, and he idly scratched at the bandage. She had saved his life by treating his injury. Last night she had saved his sanity.
Now, the day was breaking, and he had no choice but to face what he had done. In another time or another life, he could have returned the love he’d seen burning in her eyes - the love he’d felt in every caress of her hand - as openly as he wanted. But not now, not when all those he loved were suffering and dying around him.
Then there was Lord Frey. More precisely, one of Lord Frey’s daughters, whom he was promised to marry after the war was over. He needed Frey’s men, and surely Frey would know that. Catelyn had said he was a proud man - how would Frey react to a broken promise? Whose honor was more important - his, or Jeyne’s? And what if he had gotten her with child? He could only imagine his mother’s wrath if he brought her another Snow.
When he had learned the news of his brothers, the only person he had wanted to be with was her. Sweet, kind Jeyne, healer of wounds. For the first time since calling the banners, he had not thought. He didn’t plan or plot or strategize - he simply felt. He needed her, needed to forget his pain, and she had given all she had to give. He had seen it in her eyes as they’d fumbled with their clothing and again as he had taken her, a first for both of them. Her whimper had stopped him. He had searched her face for reassurance and found instead what shone through his mother’s eyes when she looked at his father. He wiped a trickle of a tear from the corner of her eye, kissed her tenderly, and moved again, slower this time, gentler, but with the fire of his need burning just as bright.
He had thought naught of her honor or her maidenhood. He had only felt the need to escape reality and the truth for as long as he could. She had become the one softness in the hard, cold war that consumed his life. Neither of them had spoken, from the moment he’d entered the room until the moment he’d spilled his seed inside her. Then she’d whispered his name, and he had come undone, collapsing on top of her as he choked back sobs. She’d held him, caressing his hair the same way his mother had when his father had been killed, not even attempting to find words to placate him, simply letting him be, but not be alone. That’s when he had known that he loved her.
He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He was debating a choice that his heart had already made. He couldn’t leave here without her. He needed her, not just for one night, but for all the nights to come. Without her to escape to the weight of his responsibilities threatened to crush him. He had gone from a boy to a man to a king overnight, and without his father to guide him, the growing pains cut deeper than any sword.
He rose from the chair and lit a candle, setting by the bed. After ordering the guard outside the door to wake the septon and have him in the sept in 20 minutes, he sat down on the bed and gently brushed a strand of hair from Jeyne’s forehead. He shook her shoulder just as the cock in the yard signaled the arrival of the day. Their wedding day.
“Jeyne, wake up.”
Part 2
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R.R. Martin
Characters: Robb Stark, Jeyne Westerling. Mentions of Theon Greyjoy and Bran Stark
Setting: While Robb is at The Crag. Late A Clash of Kings/Early A Storm of Swords
Word Count: 796
SPOILER ALERT IF YOU ONLY WATCH THE SHOW
Robb woke from troubled dreams. The room was dark, the fire burned down to only embers, and in the darkness he could still see the image of Theon, knife in hand, following his brother Bran as he tried to crawl away. Theon, who he’d known since they were boys. Theon, who he had loved like a brother. Theon, who had betrayed him, killed Bran and Rickon, and set their flayed heads on pikes at the gate of his home. His heart twisted in his chest, contorted by betrayal and loss.
Beside him Jeyne slept. She lay on her stomach, arms under her pillow, the linens barely covering the small of her back. He pulled the blankets over her, lightly touched her arm with the back of his hand, and left the bed. Finding his breeches on the floor he slipped them on before taking the chair by the window. Outside the world was quiet, the sky just starting to turn from black to grey on the horizon.
He looked back at the bed and watched Jeyne’s back as it slowly rose and fell. His arm itched, and he idly scratched at the bandage. She had saved his life by treating his injury. Last night she had saved his sanity.
Now, the day was breaking, and he had no choice but to face what he had done. In another time or another life, he could have returned the love he’d seen burning in her eyes - the love he’d felt in every caress of her hand - as openly as he wanted. But not now, not when all those he loved were suffering and dying around him.
Then there was Lord Frey. More precisely, one of Lord Frey’s daughters, whom he was promised to marry after the war was over. He needed Frey’s men, and surely Frey would know that. Catelyn had said he was a proud man - how would Frey react to a broken promise? Whose honor was more important - his, or Jeyne’s? And what if he had gotten her with child? He could only imagine his mother’s wrath if he brought her another Snow.
When he had learned the news of his brothers, the only person he had wanted to be with was her. Sweet, kind Jeyne, healer of wounds. For the first time since calling the banners, he had not thought. He didn’t plan or plot or strategize - he simply felt. He needed her, needed to forget his pain, and she had given all she had to give. He had seen it in her eyes as they’d fumbled with their clothing and again as he had taken her, a first for both of them. Her whimper had stopped him. He had searched her face for reassurance and found instead what shone through his mother’s eyes when she looked at his father. He wiped a trickle of a tear from the corner of her eye, kissed her tenderly, and moved again, slower this time, gentler, but with the fire of his need burning just as bright.
He had thought naught of her honor or her maidenhood. He had only felt the need to escape reality and the truth for as long as he could. She had become the one softness in the hard, cold war that consumed his life. Neither of them had spoken, from the moment he’d entered the room until the moment he’d spilled his seed inside her. Then she’d whispered his name, and he had come undone, collapsing on top of her as he choked back sobs. She’d held him, caressing his hair the same way his mother had when his father had been killed, not even attempting to find words to placate him, simply letting him be, but not be alone. That’s when he had known that he loved her.
He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He was debating a choice that his heart had already made. He couldn’t leave here without her. He needed her, not just for one night, but for all the nights to come. Without her to escape to the weight of his responsibilities threatened to crush him. He had gone from a boy to a man to a king overnight, and without his father to guide him, the growing pains cut deeper than any sword.
He rose from the chair and lit a candle, setting by the bed. After ordering the guard outside the door to wake the septon and have him in the sept in 20 minutes, he sat down on the bed and gently brushed a strand of hair from Jeyne’s forehead. He shook her shoulder just as the cock in the yard signaled the arrival of the day. Their wedding day.
“Jeyne, wake up.”
Part 2
Tags: