A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this is late, and sorry that I haven't managed to reply to your reviews. I ended up going away for the weekend, and right now I'm at work on a quick break and I need to post up two new chapters on two different stories, twice haha. Anyway, hope you forgive my lateness and lack of replies. Hopefully I'll be back on it as usual this weekend.
So, this chapter had me stumped at just under 3,000 words, so I got irritated, and decided to add a new POV. I'm now at peace, and I hope you enjoy it!
:)
IV
Roslin opened her eyes at the sound of shouting and movement in the courtyard below, a shuddering breath leaving her as she saw the faint light sneaking through the gap in the drapes. Robb's arms tightened around her waist, so she knew without looking that he too was awake. "When do we leave?" she asked him groggily, and his lips found the top of her head in response.
"When we're ready," he replied, and she decided against pushing him on it. She knew without asking that Robb was dreading giving the order to march out from Riverrun. He believed he was doing the right thing backing Aegon, spending more time with the man had convinced him of that. What he really didn't want to do was reach Darry and have them go their separate ways. Roslin dreaded it too. She wanted to be with him always, at his side and in his presence as was meant to be. She flexed her fingers into the muscles of his chest and he inhaled sharply before gently rolling them so he was laying above her.
She almost shuddered at the look in his eyes, allowing her hands to slowly roam up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Robb remained still above her as she did so, only leaning into her when her hands had reached their destination. She didn't even need to think when he kissed her anymore, she was just so instinctively aware of how their lips were supposed to work together. So bonded with him that she knew what he was thinking from a single look better than others knew from an explicit order from his mouth. His beautiful mouth that trailed from hers and down her neck, lavishing her with attention that she had been craving from him for what felt like an eternity. She couldn't help but arch her back, pressing her hands down against his shoulder blades to encourage him closer to her. He seemed to take the hint, pressing his body firmly between her legs, his rough hands moving to slide her nightdress up her legs.
Again she shuddered beneath him, the anticipation almost painful. Robb pulled away slightly, his eyes meeting hers, concern now mingling with the lust. "Is it still too soon?" he asked her, and she shook her head at once. She was well recovered from Bethany's birth now, and more than ready to let her husband complete her once more.
"No," she promised him, holding his eyes. The lust drowned out the concern at once, and his lips came back to hers, his hands bunching her nightdress up and around her waist. She slipped her own hands down from his shoulders, somehow getting them between their meshed bodies so she could unlace him. His groan of appreciation was swallowed up by their kiss as she found him uncovered. A thrill shot right through her, and her stomach leapt with anticipation as she slowly wrapped her legs high up on his waist and shifted her hips until he was pressed right up against her.
He pulled his lips from hers again and she panted beneath him as he looked down on her, his eyes all for her as he shifted himself to make them one again. To make them whole. She exhaled deeply in satisfaction as he sank down into her, the look on his own face was that of almost relief, and she wrapped her hands around his upper arms as he began to rock his hips. Roslin moved her own up to meet his pace, her eyes still holding his as he kept up his torturously slow pace. It would be easy for them to lose themselves in this, in the bliss that they had been so long without, but she preferred it like this. She preferred the fact that they were savouring it, and pushed to the back of her mind the fact that they would have precious little time to savour it before they parted. Right now she just wanted to think about her tightening stomach, and the heat that was building between her and the man she loved more than she had ever thought possible.
Robb pressed down closer to her, his hands roaming up and down her thighs for a moment, encouraging them higher, before he moved them to her shoulders to slip down the straps of her nightdress. His gentle touch soon found her breasts, and she tilted her head back, unable to halt the soft moan that came from her. They were still so tender, and on occasion almost painful, since Bethany had been born, but Robb's touch was so gentle that it only served to heighten her pleasure. It was building up deliciously in her lower stomach, her thighs beginning to twitch slightly as Robb occupied his lips with her neck, one of his hands still lavishing her breast with attention as her own ran firmly down his back. He arched further into her, and she couldn't help but gasp out as he touched something magical. Her anticipation was piqued now, and it was all she could do to keep rocking her hips in time with his as she was blinded by the ever increasing pleasure he was bringing to her.
Robb's own breaths were sharp against her neck, mingling with her owns gasps and noises of pleasure as he pushed her even closer to that weightlessness she craved. It was one more moment, one more agonising moment before it all collapsed down around her, her whole body quaking as he continued to move. Somehow her lips formed his name, and his own pressed firmly against her neck before she felt the warmth of his own peak deep inside her. His body collapsed down against her own, and she held him there firmly, her head still spinning as she ran her hand through his curls. He turned his head slightly, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder before he raised his head to meet her eyes once more. She could see a thousand words dancing in those blue orbs, but the ones he uttered were the only ones she wanted to hear in this moment. "I love you," he said them quietly, but with an underlying ferocity that had her clutching at his arm to keep him close.
"I love you," she returned, "and in this moment, nothing else matters."
"The boys are saddled, ought we to get going, milord?" Olyvar turned to see the wildling woman, Osha, looking at him expectantly. He allowed her a brief nod of the head before turning back and marching abruptly to his own mount. That had probably been rude. Roslin would probably have chastised him. She wasn't here though, so he did not have to pretend to be noble and polite. Right now he didn't want people around him, and he knew the best way of keeping them at bay was to make sure they didn't want to speak to him in the first place. He imagined they would have pieced together enough to realise that the letter he had received was the reason for his sudden change in mood. What he didn't know is if they would make the connection between that and their own news from the King about Dacey. Nor did he care right now. Right now he didn't care for much at all.
He marched to his own horse and hauled himself atop it, nodding curtly to the head guard, who promptly called back the order to move. Olyvar dug his heels lightly into the sides of his horse and stared straight ahead as they trickled slowly out of the gates of Last Hearth. After several minutes of riding he sensed that someone had ridden their own horse closer to him, and he gritted his teeth. They said nothing though, and eventually nagging curiosity got the better of him and he turned to see Bran on his specially saddled horse. "Sorry," he said quietly, "I won't speak to you if you'd prefer."
Bran's words made him feel guilty. He knew he had been neglecting the duty that Dacey herself had sent him to do, but it was too hard to continue being the jovial new uncle when his heart felt as though it had been pierced with a thousand white hot knives. Even smiling felt like some sort of betrayal, even though he knew deep down that Dacey would never begrudge him happiness. It felt too soon. She would not even have been laid to rest yet. The journey to Bear Island was long, though he knew those escorting her would try and make it as swift as they possibly could. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to imagine the procession in his mind. It was best that he didn't think of her cold and missing, but remember her as she had been; beautiful and warm and alive.
"Sorry," he muttered his apology to Bran, finally remembering that he hadn't spoken up to say anything in return.
"You loved her, didn't you?" Bran's words were quiet, and though he asked the question, Olyvar could tell that he already knew the answer.
"I did," Olyvar agreed, "but our love was secret, and so must be my grief."
"We'll be at Winterfell soon enough, then you will have your sister," Bran continued quietly, and Olyvar could only nod his head. Yes, Bran was right, he would have Roslin, and he would have in her someone who could perhaps truly understand some of what he was feeling inside. But he would also be at the place where he had been supposed to marry Dacey, where they were supposed to have settled until such a time she became Lady of Bear Island. The place she had fought for, and ultimately lost her life for. Olyvar wasn't sure how he would feel once the time came for them to pass under the gates, but it wasn't hard to imagine that it wouldn't be easy.
"I'm sorry," he said again to Bran, "I came here to take care of you and Rickon, I don't think I have been doing a very good job recently." Somehow he managed a faint smile, and Bran returned it, nodding his head in understanding.
"I told Rickon you were missing your family, that is something he can understand," Bran told him, and he nodded gratefully.
"Thank you," he managed, and again, Bran nodded his head. After that they lapsed into silence, and Olyvar was glad of it. Even just speaking those few words had made his voice almost tremble. The Gods only knew how he would ever be of any use to Roslin at Winterfell.
Robb tried very hard not to stamp his way across the courtyard. He did his best to remember that he was supposed to act the dignified, unruffled king, and not the frustrated man who wished with every fibre of his being that he did not have to do this. After everything he and his men had fought for and achieved he had hoped that by now all of them could go home. Instead, only some of them were, only some of them would turn north at Darry, taking his family with them while he remained behind. He had never been alone before. Not truly. Even at the start of the war when his mother had been absent he had had Theon. His fists clenched as ever they did whenever he thought of the treacherous bastard he had called brother.
Determined to think of something else, he quickened his pace, moving towards the waiting carriage that his wife and daughter would be travelling in. Arya had stubbornly insisted on riding, and after he gave her permission his mother had said she would do the same. As he moved closer a frown came to his brow as he saw Roslin fussing over Bethany's blankets before she passed her to one of her nurses. The three nurses then clambered up into the carriage, and Roslin seemed to hesitate before she stepped back, nodding to the guards on either side to close the door behind them. Robb reached her, his hand coming to her shoulder as the door clicked shut. "What are you doing?" he asked her when she turned to face him.
"I'm riding with you," she told him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"But, Bethany…" he began, trailing off as Roslin took his hand in hers and squeezed tightly.
"Bethany will have us both when we stop for the night," she told him firmly, "I will ride at your side, Robb, as your queen." He was touched by her words, but the frown was still creasing his brow. Roslin never went for more than a few hours without seeing their daughter, and he didn't want her to start now.
"Roslin, I appreciate your offer, truly I do, but would you not rather be with her?" he pressed, and she stared up at him for a long moment.
"I have never been without you," she finally spoke, "I thought I never would be. Now I will part with you sooner than I would like, for even longer than I would like. Just, please, let me be at your side while I still can." If she was going to say anymore, Robb would never know, because he pulled her against him and kissed her full on the mouth, not caring who could see or what they would say. He loved his wife. His queen. He loved her with everything he had and he didn't care who knew it. Her hands clenched around his upper arms as they kissed, and he kept his own planted firmly on her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he could. Finally, when he could take no more, he pulled back from her, but only an inch.
"You, and Bethany," he told her lowly; "you are everything to me, you understand? Everything. If I did not have you both, my life would cease to be worth living."
"Robb…" she whispered, her eyes welling with tears as she looked up at him, her head shaking ever so slightly.
"So long as I know you are both safe in this world, I will have purpose, and I will come home to you. I swear it now," he promised her, and she pressed herself back to him, her arms wrapping around his waist as she rested her head on his chest. He exhaled deeply, running his hands through her hair and memorizing everything about how she felt in his arms. Four days he had left to savour her, and wonder over their perfect daughter. Somehow that would have to be enough to sustain him in the months to come. He pressed his lips to the top of Roslin's head, her soft hair tickling at him and giving him something else to remember.
He knew they ought to go, he could hear horses growing restless in the courtyard. Vaguely he wondered if any of the men would dare interrupt them in this moment. Part of him hoped they would, because if no one spoke up then he would likely end up standing here forever with Roslin wrapped in his arms where she belonged. Usually Roslin herself would pull herself from him and tell him they ought to leave, but she showed no sign of movement, her arms still tight around his waist. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and closed his eyes to the rest of the world, telling himself that it would just be for a few more moments.
A hand touched his shoulder a minute later, and he opened his eyes to meet Aegon's violet gaze. He inclined his head over towards the horses, the look in his own eyes almost regretful. Robb lifted his head from Roslin's, and nodded ever so slightly. Aegon touched his shoulder again, squeezing lightly this time, before he let go and made his own way to the horses. "Come, then," Robb tried to keep his tone light as he loosened his hold on his wife. "If you are insisting on riding with me, then we'd best make sure your horse is saddled and ready."
"It is," Roslin told him, taking his arm as they made their way toward where the family and their guards were already mounted. "I made sure of it," she elaborated, and he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. He didn't know why he was surprised, if Roslin wanted something then she made sure to get it, and that was one of many reasons why he knew the North would be in safe hands in his absence. They reached her horse, and he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her up atop it. In that moment he was taken back almost a year, to their departure for the Westerlands. How different things had been then. He met Roslin's eyes as she settled herself on her horse, and he had the strangest feeling that she was thinking the same thing. A tiny smile graced his lips, and her own twitched up at the corners, and he just knew she had been.
"Where is the queen?" Aegon turned at the stiff question, taking a sip of wine before he answered Connington's question.
"Having dinner with her mother and sister," he answered him, and Jon nodded slightly before moving further into Aegon's tent.
"Three days till Darry if we make good speed, though if we have to stop for the Stark babe again -"
"She is a babe at the breast who wanted her mother," Aegon cut him off with a frown, "we lost five minutes while the Stark queen tended her daughter. It was hardly a long delay." Somehow he resisted rolling his eyes at his guardian. Jon seemed determined not to warm to the Starks, and Aegon had the niggling feeling in his stomach that he had not yet given up on the idea of taking control of all the kingdoms once more.
"And what of your own queen?" Jon raised a brow. "Does she show any sign yet of being with child?"
"That is rather personal," Aegon said tersely, but the older man seemed unabashed.
"You name yourself king, Aegon, you need a queen who can provide you an heir," he said insistently, taking more steps towards him.
"We have time," Aegon said calmly, "there are more pressing matters to attend upon for the time being."
"You have three days, then you will be parted from the girl for many moons, if she is not already with child, Aegon, then you may consider releasing her from your union once Stark helps you onto your throne," Jon said, and Aegon's hand clenched tightly around his cup in response.
"What did you just say?" his voice was barely more than a whisper. He could not believe what his guardian and closest advisor had just suggested. "Cast her aside after using her brother's armies to win my throne?" Aegon demanded. "I hope that was a jape, Connington, one made in poor taste, I hasten to add."
"She's weak, can you not see it? The people need a strong queen, and you could have one, we only need reach out to your aunt –"
"Enough!" Aegon snapped before Jon could say another word. "I will not hear of it," he elaborated, "you encouraged me to give up on Daenerys and set my sights on Sansa Stark instead. And now you gave changed your mind? Well, so have I. I may have been reluctant to agree with your plans before, but I did so at your insistence and Varys' assurances. I married Sansa, and I will remain married to her, and only her, before you even suggest following the traditions of my forefathers."
"Think clearly, Aegon!" Jon hissed at him, coming closer and placing his hands on his upper arms. "When her dragons grow big enough she will make the journey to Westeros! Better she come as a friend, rather than a foe. Offer her a throne and a crown. That is the best thing you can do for the people of Westeros. There will never be peace so long as she is allowed to reign free in the east with those beasts growing larger every day. She will challenge you, Aegon, unless you eliminate the threat. The best way to do that is through marriage, she would have to agree, to secure the Targaryen dynasty."
"The children I have with Sansa will secure the Targaryen dynasty," Aegon snarled, shrugging himself out of Jon's grip. "Daenerys will be offered Dragonstone if she decides to fly across the Narrow Sea," he continued, "and if she agrees to peace then I will name her my heir should I die without issue, as we agreed."
"You are letting your lust for this girl cloud your judgement, don't be such a fool, Aegon," Jon hissed at him, again snatching at his upper arms, though Aegon again shrugged him away.
"You know nothing of my marriage, and you will speak of my wife with respect," he said through gritted teeth, "Sansa is your queen, and you will address her as such."
"Dragons! Aegon!" Jon sounded almost desperate now. "You could unite the whole of Westeros again, just as Aegon the Conqueror did all those years ago. You would be remembered forever as he was, not forgotten in history as the Targaryen who lost two Kingdoms and relied on wolves to win his battles for him."
"Those wolves are our only chance of winning the Iron Throne, and they are kin to me, the only kin I have in this world. You will not speak ill of them in my presence," Aegon's tone was almost threatening now. "I cannot believe you would suggest such a betrayal. You would ask me to cast aside my wife for Daenerys, and then use her dragons to force Robb Stark to bend the knee to me, after all he has promised? Have you no sense of loyalty?!"
"Loyalty may win you friends, but it will not win you respect, and it will not help you keep the Iron Throne," Jon said with a quiet finality that only served to make Aegon's blood pound in his ears.
"You think the Northmen do not respect their King?" Aegon asked just as quietly.
"I did not say that," Jon answered, "but you will not be ruling over loyal northerners, you will be ruling over lords who are ruthless and power-hungry, and willing to do almost anything to ensure they will get the best deal. And if that deal is not you, they will overthrow you the way they did your grandfather. Don't be weak, Aegon, they will see it a mile off and you will be dead within a year."
"Get out," Aegon said dangerously quietly. "Out," he repeated, when Connington showed no sign of leaving. "And do not come before me again until you have learned to respect your king. I am no longer a boy who needs your guidance, I am man enough to choose my own council, and live by my own morals. If that leads to my death, then so be it, at least I will have lived my life with some shred of decency and honour. I wonder, Ser, if you will be able to say the same when death comes calling your name?"
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Normal service will (most likely) resume on Saturday!
:)
