The Life of a King by Luvscharlie
Author's Notes/Warnings: Spoilers up to A Storm of Swords. Incest, infidelity, oral, angst, snark, underage (I prefer to assume they're show age here-book age makes it a little more icky); This is set on the trip to the Red Wedding in an AU world where Jon never left Robb's side and went to the Wall. This fic was originally written for the 2011 got_exchange on LiveJournal and was my first "exchange" fic in this fandom. My recipient asked for an AU fic where Jon never left his brother's side. She also asked for some angsty times. I'm more of a humor person, so it's a bit tempered. Thanks to Lunalovepotter for the beta work.
Jon often wondered what it would have been like if his choices had been different. Might it have made a difference if he'd gone with his father and half-sisters to Kings Landing? He thought it might have. His father would still be walking around with a head that connected at the neck and his sisters would not be lost. Jon could only think of them as lost… out there somewhere just waiting to be found; he could never think of them as dead. That would mean he had failed as both a son and a brother. One man could only take so many failures.
When the grief and guilt grew too encompassing, Jon looked to the one member of his family to whom he could still be of some benefit, the one that had always mattered the most (maybe even too much, if truth be told): Robb. It was hard to think of the boy you'd spent the good deal of youth beating off with out in the godswood (thank goodness Father never found out about that; Jon only hoped the gods weren't watching too, or they'd have a bit of explaining to do in the afterlife) as your king. Despite what everyone else thought, all those who followed faithfully, Jon knew his brother inside and out, and the very last thing Robb wanted to be was someone's king. Oh sure, he was bossy enough, but being forced to make decisions that led some to death and others to victory, was a fairly large thing to carry on such young shoulders.
Then Robb had gone off and got himself married to her. Gods, Jon wanted to hate her; it would be easy too, if she wasn't so damn nice. It was probably treasonous to think such thoughts about his Queen, but Jon could never see anything when he looked at Jeyne Westerling except competition. Jon was never happier than when they'd left to go off and see Robb's Uncle Edmure married. It would take days to get there, and during those days, his dear sweet-as-pie queen and sour-as-grapes stepmother would be back at Riverun where Jon didn't have to see them and Robb didn't have to bed his wife or answer to his mother. And thank the Seven for that.
They were one day into their journey toward the Twins, and they were waiting for their entourage to set up the tents for the night. Jon had offered to help, but apparently the brothers of kings, even only half-brothers that weren't true born were no longer allowed to erect their own tents. All of this royalty stuff still felt a little new.
"Come, Jon," Robb said. "We'll have a bite before we settle in for the night. You can come to my tent. It was put up first."
He sounded so far above what had once been his station that Jon responded with a flippant, "Whatever." Jon had rather hoped this trip to the Twins, without the overbearing presence of Her Royal Pain in the Behind, Robb would revert back to the brother he'd remembered back at Winterfell. The one without the heavy crown weighing him down.
"Is that the way you speak to your king?" Robb asked.
Jon thought long and hard about kicking him a good one, right to the shin, but figured that would not be looked upon kindly, and Jon was rather attached to his head staying on his shoulders as it was. It would be a shame to waste such lovely hair as he had, so he held his foot in check. His tongue wasn't quite so tameable. "It's the way I speak to my Too Big For His Small Clothes, Royal Pain in the Arse Brother." Jon finished off the words with a sweet, fake smile.
Robb, with a grimace and a sigh, took his seat and smiled at the young maid who brought him his dinner-in a silver dish, no less. Jon snorted at the show of opulence.
"Given that we've been travelling all day and that you're clearly tired and irritable, I'll let your lapse in manners slide." Robb gave his brother a patient smile, and Jon reconsidered where it might be best to kick him. He missed the days when pent-up aggressions were released with a brotherly tussle and a bit of hair-pulling, and even elbow gouging if they were really frustrated. You weren't allowed to give the King a good elbow to the ribs, not even when he deserved it for going off and marrying her. Why did he have to go and get married anyway? Wasn't that the point of being a king-that you got to write your own rules when the old ones didn't suit you? If not, Jon thought the job was seriously overrated.
"That's a glum look you're wearing, Jon. Whatever are you thinking?" Robb broke into his brother's sulky thoughts.
"Thinking that people must be insane to pick a king with lopsided eyes." There was no rule against insulting kings... only hitting them.
"Jon, my patience is-"
Jon didn't let him finish. "And those eyebrows! I heard one of the Umber boys speaking of losing a pet caterpillar earlier today. I should go get him and tell him where to find it."
Jon could tell Robb was at his breaking point, and he just might get that tussle yet. Surely there was a rule that if a king was choking you to death, you could retaliate. Jon hoped so anyway. Unfortunately, his royal prat of a brother looked at the guards at the front of his tent and the lovely serving girl that Jon was just considering visiting later that night and said a curt, "Leave us." They did so without a word. Jon wondered what it must be like to wield that kind of power. If Robb said kiss my royal arse, would they? Probably.
"I hate you," Jon said, when the tent had cleared.
Robb grinned. He'd always done that when they were kids and Jon had got a bit sulky about something or other. It was no less irritating as a grown man.
"Don't smile at me when I'm hating you."
Grinning again, Robb took a bite out of a roll and leaned his chair back on two legs.
"I said stop it."
Biting off another hunk of bread, Robb took the remaining chunk and bounced it off Jon's forehead. "I heard you. I'm the king, remember? You take orders from me." He said it so mockingly that Jon saw red, and all thoughts of treason (and reason) left him. Before he could stop himself, Jon had tackled his brother, his king, knocked him from the chair and pinned him to the ground. Robb's crown rolled to the corner of the tent and his curls bounced about untameable.
"You've been dying to do that all day. Wondered how long it would be before you snapped."
Really hating to be goaded into anything, Jon pushed his brother away and sat up, arms crossed. "I wanted to hit you, or kick you, or knee you in the balls. I was holding back."
"What's been eating you, Jon? You haven't been the same since-since-"
"Since you went off and married that-that-that woman."
"Jealous then?"
"Hardly." Jon had to admit that the answer he squeaked out sounded far from genuine. He wasn't even convinced himself, and from the obnoxious smile Robb was wearing, neither was he. The god that created brothers was the cruellest god of all.
"Did you think I wouldn't marry, Jon? You will too, soon. There are appearances to uphold, and besides, I love Jeyne. She's a dear, you must admit. And her tits- her tits are just spectacular! I want to-"
Jon would have known what Robb said next if he hadn't taken the opportunity to cover his ears and begin to sing loudly about the bear and the maiden fair so that no stray words that in any way described Jeyne Westerling's tits might make it to his ears and scar him for life. There was already those words about her bosom he couldn't unheard that would have to be scrubbed from his brain... probably with copious amounts of cleansing wine.
As Jon was holding his hands over his ears and just getting to the second verse, Robb grabbed him and kissed him... which was good since he didn't know all the words anyway. And as angry as Jon wanted to be, and as much as he wanted to punish King Cocky, it was impossible not to lose himself in what he hadn't had for weeks, and what he craved most of all.
Robb's lips moved over his, warm and tasting of wine, his breath warm against Jon's skin. "You knew this couldn't go on forever," he gasped between kisses. "There are rules."
"You're the king. Make new rules." Jon grasped at what few straws remained to him and pulled Robb closer to him. "You're mine. You've always been mine. You don't belong to her."
"I love her."
"You love me. You've always loved me. You love me far more than you could ever love that plain Jeyne of a girl." Jon made an extra effort to show Robb what a witty person he was, a true catch of a man. "Deny it, and I'll never speak of this to you again. I'll let you be married and happy, all you have to say is that you don't love me more than her."
Robb couldn't. He grabbed Jon's dark curls and pulled his head sharply back. His hand tilted Jon's chin and his lips savaged Jon's mouth. But Robb didn't speak of love; Robb spoke of raw need. "I want you."
Jon pushed his brother back, so that Robb was sitting before him, and Jon slid his hand into his brother's trousers, noted Robb's lack of small clothes and grinned leeringly up at him.
Robb rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
"What? I didn't say anything. I didn't say that you were clearly as desperate for a shag as me. I didn't say that you'd probably had your hand in your trousers all day just thinking about this moment. I didn't say-"
"I didn't say you could speak, and I'm fairly certain kings get to decide that, you know." The words were harsh, but Robb's tone was light as he raised his hips so that Jon could tug his trousers down his thighs, letting them bunch about the knees. Robb grasped the base of his cock in one hand, and cupped the back of Jon's neck with the other, pushing him down and sighing when Jon's tongue flicked across the head of his cock, and painted a broad stroke from tip to base. First one side, then the other.
Robb groaned and Jon chuckled. "King or not, you still sound like a girl when you groan."
Robb brought his hand down sharply on Jon's bum. "Not the way to address royalty."
"Prat." Jon stuck his tongue out.
"If you want to keep that tongue, you'll find a better use for it… and quickly." His hand reached between Jon's still clad legs, and cupped his balls, kneading them harder than was necessary to set Jon's focus back to his task.
Jon took Robb full in his mouth, taking as much of him as he could and rolling Robb's balls into his palm. He smiled around his mouthful of cock at the resulting sigh. His strokes were long and deep, allowing Robb to guide his head and set the pace that met his needs.
Robb was holding on longer than was usual; usually a few strokes of Jon's tongue and a few deep-throated sucks and Robb was shooting his now royal spunk down Jon's throat. Funnily enough, the fact that the spunk was now royal did not improve the taste one bit. Jon did his best not to allow himself the thought that Robb's wife might have been doing her job in the bedroom satisfactorily and that was causing the increased stamina. He could feel his cock wither a bit at the notion.
Of course, he'd show her. There were some tricks he was quite certain Her Grace didn't know. He increased the suction, letting Robb's cock almost pull free until only the head remained between his lips, and then he hummed, twisting his lips and sucking down deep. Robb thrust his hips up to meet the pleasure and come hit the back of Jon's throat. No, Her Grace definitely did not know that trick.
Jon reached for his brother, heavy-lidded in his satiated state, drawing him in for a kiss of tangled tongues and nipping teeth. "I'm glad she stayed behind," Jon whispered.
Robb's face was cold, unreadable. He sighed and pulled his trousers back up and fastened them with a sad shake of his head. "This ends tonight. I didn't ask for it, but I am your king, and this-this-I'm not even sure what this is, but I know what it can't be. Not any longer. Kings don't fuck men who are their brothers. Especially not men who are bastards."
On his way out the tent, Jon heard Robb whisper, "No matter how much they love them."