JOANNA

This was torture.

Her cheeks felt tight and the corner of her lips wanted to quiver because they were tired of trying to keep up this happy semblance. People forget how hard it is to be a princess. To smile when you didn't want to, to speak when you didn't want to speak, and do everything in your power to not offend anyone. There were so many rules and restrictions that she had to follow and remember, which always left her mentally exhausted by the end of the day. Even if she was no longer a princess, she was a lady now and ladies still had to uphold the same impossible standards.

This dilemma began when each and every Northern lord wanted to speak to herself and Robb, mostly to give personal congratulations on their marriage. When one lord or lady left, another came following behind. An endless cycle it was becoming, but how could she refuse it? It was important for her as Robb's wife, the future Lady of Winterfell, to form a relationship with each and every one of them. Not just simply knowing their names. Joanna had to get a taste of who they were as their own individual person because they were her people now; her Northern men and women. Yet, how could she truly pay attention? There were just so many and some of them prolonged a conversation that was clearly dead.

While there was kindness behind most of them and motives behind others, all Joanna had wanted was some time to herself. She wanted to breathe on her own, but this reception made it impossible. "I think my father invited every lord in the North there is," Robb mumbled, keeping his smile as he spoke. He leaned in close so that she was the only one that could hear him.

"It certainly feels like it," Joanna replied, smiling while bearing the same tired annoyance in her tone that Robb conveyed.

Lord Wells kept talking and talking, and… talking. Both newly husband and wife briefly looked at each other, face bearing tired shock that he was so focused on what he was saying, that he hadn't bothered to care who was actually listening. "Lord Wells," Robb finally interrupted him after the continuous amount of one word comments he politely gave before to feign interest. "How about we continue this conversation at another time? My wife wishes to dance."

"To dance?" Joanna brows shot up, confused as to where he got that idea. It was by the mischievous smirk on his face that quickly disappeared that she now realized that he was initiating their escape. "A-Ah yes, I do wish to dance with my… husband." Joanna lowered her head meekly and apologetically. "Would you mind, Lord Wells?"

"Of course not." The Northern Lord bowed his head in understanding, being so gracious to let them go. "As you please, My Lord and Lady."

In an instant, Robb took her hand, hastily leading her towards the centre of the Great Hall. Joanna did her best not to laugh, mostly because she felt more grateful than entertained that he was so crafty. "I thought we would never escape," she opted to say instead, keeping her voice low so it was for his ears only. They did not want anyone repeating that they heard the two of them so eager to leave Lord Wells' company. It wouldn't look good and the last thing she needed was to be the center of a lord's animosity.

"Neither did I," Robb replied in a hushed voice. People parted like a sea as the two of them walked through the dance floor. All eyes were on them because this was the first dance of the newlyweds. Unsettling as it was, to be watched, Joanna did her best not to give physical representation of her nerves. Taking hold of her skirts, she made sure they did not flick too wildly as she took some steps, so that she lightly turned to stand before him once they were in a spacious area. After one step towards each other and a bow, they began to circle each other with their eyes locked. Joanna prided her skills in dancing, mostly because her aunt Genna Lannister once said that a lady is as good as the rhythm of her body. Little did Joanna know that such advice was not strictly about dancing.

Soon a warm hand applied pressure on the small of her back. Her hand came to lightly rest on his broad shoulder, and their free hands had met as the soft flow of music made them fall in step, perfectly in sync. As the song progressed, Joanna found herself relaxing, eyes glancing over Robb's shoulder to see that people were content with watching instead of joining them just yet. Even among the crowds, seeing past strangers' shoulders alike, she had spotted Lord Wells looking pleased that they did not lie.

"Have I told you," Robb began to say, making her snatch her eyes away from Lord Wells to properly look up at him, "that you…" Her brows slightly furrowed, wondering what was so difficult for him to say. "That you look like a Northern lady."

"Ah," she settled to say, "I thought you…" Now it was her turn to be tongue-tied. "I thought your family would like it." Yes, that was better. It's too embarrassing to say that she had thought he would like it.

As if his body was in tune with the slow strings of the music, he turned. Whilst elegant, there was a hint of harshness to him. Robb could appear as a true gentleman, but his blood was too hot for something this tame. Robb was no princely man and it was amusing that you could tell just from the way he danced. "I don't know what my mother and father think of it as for me," he said, jaw curving to give way to a boyish grin. "I think you look prettier this way."

Prettier? So, he didn't like the dramatics of the South? It didn't faintly surprise her. The North liked simple things, which could be nice but also boring. She would miss the drama of King's Landing, she sorely realized. She had to settle for rustic, quieter things now.

"I can think of nothing to say in return." Joanna remained honest, doing her very best to be so forthright with him. "It would be no true observation if I said you were handsome. You always are." That… was too honest for her liking. Her face heated with color, almost intensely.

Robb's face was nearly as red as his hair, but he had the right wits to play it off with laughter. Embarrassed and flustered, Joanna mentally prayed for an escape. Escape to where and to whom? Who could rescue her? Steffon. Steffon could swoop in, steal her for a dance, and she could curse herself until late evening about how her boldness grasped reins at the worst of times.

"May I cut in?" Thank the Seven. Joanna nearly sighed of relief, but swallowed it upon realizing that asking for her hand to dance was none other than Lord Stark himself. He stood there in his dour greys, face a mixture of warm and cold. He was such a stern man and emotions that befitted a livelier person did not suit him.

"Of course, Father." Robb had been so eager to comply while she was still stunned that the Warden of the North wanted to dance with her. It was possibly due to the fact that she was now his good-daughter. What better way to talk to her without eyes and ears than in a dance? What did he have to say? Had he solely wanted to give congratulations and keep up appearances?

Robb stepped away, allowing Joanna and Ned to give sign of a new dance with a bow before going in the proper positions. Robb glanced at her once, smile still intact, before he disappeared amongst the crowd since so many people were dancing themselves now. Like a child, Joanna looked up at Ned practically through her eyelashes, not able to raise her head properly like a true lady would.

"You and Robb get along well," he commented, "better than Catelyn and I did." You wouldn't think that, if you'd seen the way Lord and Lady Stark interacted with each other. They were warm and loving to one another. A happy married couple. Something she had never seen in her seventeen years of life. The only happy marriages she last heard close to home were of her grandfather and his lady wife that she was named after. Also, her grandfather that Steffon was named after and her grandmother Cassana.

The best thing she had done thus far was advocate that she and Robb be friends or else this wedding day would've been disastrous. Robb was pleasantly like her in a way, the both of them young at heart. They knew their place, knew what was expected individually and of each other, but still held their childish notions of what they desired. Since they found common ground on that, she would've said yes a thousand times, if her father had asked her if Robb Stark was the one she wanted to marry.

"It was arranged, wasn't it?" Joanna asked, genuinely curious.

"She was meant for my brother, Brandon." The one that Bran was named after, she connected. She heard of Brandon Stark, the one they called the Wild Wolf. Her father never ceased to mention how the man horribly died when he was slighting House Targaryen. They bound a leather cord around the Wild Wolf's neck and he strangled himself aiming to get his sword in efforts to save his father that was being scorched alive before his eyes. An utmost cruel tragedy, one that makes her so shameful to be married to a family wounded greatly by people of her own bloodline. "It was hard for either one of us to adjust at first, especially after I had to leave to help finish your father's Rebellion." Joanna nodded, knowing that as well. "We found a way, somehow, in the years."

She smiled. "I'm content if Robb and I do not find love. My mother has never found it in my father. While I do pity that the chance was once there, I've seen how to survive without it," she spoke it plainly, not wanting Lord Stark to know all the stupid dreams her mind could spin. Steffon always said her adoration of love stories was dangerous, but she knew better than to warp them to fit reality. She did not want to be too much like her mother; scorned and unhappy, relying solely on any means of power and her children.

"Your way of thinking is admirable," replied Lord Stark, looking almost unsure about something, "but Robb will not fail you as your father failed your mother." At first it stung to hear him say that. It was a sweet pain, a prick that only meant to heal than it did to wound. Lord Stark was assuring her that she would suffer no loveless grievances. How did he know? He only assumed it. Perhaps that was presumptuous of her to think that because who knew her father better than Eddard Stark? Had he known all the terrible things her father had done to her mother? What they had done and said about one another? "You are a daughter of the North now, you will be kept warm." You will be safe. You will be loved. You are a stranger no longer for you will belong. That's what it sounded like he was trying to say. He did not know, not even in the slightest, of how comforting his words were to her.

The dance came to a finish with a single spin. "Thank you, Lord Stark." It was all Joanna could find herself to say while feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen in one, soft exhale.

"Another thing," he hurriedly said, "I've talked it over with your father, about if there should be a bedding ceremony." Her body became stiff, so still that you might mistake her for having rigor mortis. Bedding ceremonies were humiliating, at least in her eyes. It was tradition, a very old one and one still practiced and a thousand times better than first night, but it was a tradition she did not wish to suffer through. "I've convinced him that it would be best if there wasn't one."

A flood of relief coursed through her, her heart that nearly stammered out of control soon calmed upon hearing this news. Ned Stark convinced her father to forgo tradition. Who would've thought? This man was the epitome of the old ways, so why had he forsaken it for her? This was his son's wedding, too. Any other normal person would've been too busy happy that they would be free of such an unpleasant ceremony and yet here she was trying to decipher the reasoning behind its cancellation. "You think too much, Joanna." Steffon would've said to her. "Take this gift and move on." He would be right, wouldn't he? Although it makes no sense since he overthinks just as much if not more than she does.

"He told you there would be no bedding ceremony, didn't he?" Lady Stark's words somewhat startled her, mostly because the woman had seemed to come from nowhere. Joanna quickly turned to her good-mother, her relief still glossing over her features. "You're lucky to have escaped that, I didn't." Now it was guilt that settled in the pit of her stomach. What if Lady Stark was questioning why Joanna was so put above such a custom? Why should she get the luxury of not upholding such a tradition? "It's never easy for a young woman. You are greatly spared."

"Is it right that I'm spared? Would it seem that I'm too above such traditions?" Genuinely curious of how the other lords and ladies would think of her because of this, she hoped Catelyn would be honest.

The woman's soft and slender hands laced together, eyes tilted with bemusement. "I'm sure some men and women will be sore that they did not get the chance to undress either one of you, but people know that such a marriage is a sensitive one. You are a highborn girl adapting to foreign land, so people show more pity to a girl of your status dealing with such grievances. Some—and I say this lightly—will not look at it with shared sympathy."

It was an honest answer and one she could've speculated for herself. "But it does not matter what they think," Catelyn added tenderly. "You are my good-daughter and I care for your comfort as well as my son's."

Her comfort. It was a rare thing for someone other than her mother to care about her comfort. She did not know what to say or how to feel. Lord and Lady Stark were so kind to her thus far, and she had no idea on how to repay them.

ROBB

"They're soused to the eyeballs," Robb did his best not to laugh, observing how drunk his now good-brother was. Steffon was using the wall to keep himself standing, head ever tilting forward with his hair messily falling all over his face. While he had come to know that the Crown Prince could hold his drinks, it was apparent that he might've reached his limit. Theon, however, looked the worst out of the group. His back was slowly sliding down the wall, eyes unable to stay open. Jon looked as solemn and aware as per usual. It was plain to see that he was the one who did not partake in the drinking fun.

"Let me guess," With his brow hitched, Robb decided to question the only sober one in this lot. "They tried to see who could out drink the other?"

Jon didn't even bother giving voice to such a clear-cut answer since it was obvious. He only nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Want to know who won?"

Robb was only half curious, mostly because he wanted to see the two of them argue about who won. Theon wasn't in the state to rightfully argue, though. He might just have to settle with Jon telling him. Steffon had slowly opened one eye, sweeping back some of his hair so that he could properly see. He was doing his best to act as if he still had his wits about him. "I did." The Crown Prince had sound sober. Well, if that's how sober was supposed to sound, that is. "I won. Winner is I."

"Actually," interjected Jon, "you hadn't really so much as had a drink of the last cup. Your face fell in it."

Sniffing indignantly, Steffon had seemed genuinely offended at what was most likely the truth. "That isn't true. I drunk it. Look, see for yourself that the chalice is empty."

"It is empty, but that's because you knocked it over." It was amusing to see Jon doing his best not to laugh. His half-brother so rarely smiles, even rarer does he laugh. It was only Arya and himself that could make Jon not be so grim as their lord father.

"And what of Theon? Was his last cup empty?" asked Robb.

"He thought he was pouring more wine but he ended up making a mess on the table," Jon answered him. That sounded very much something that a drunken Theon would do. He always makes a complete fool of himself. Robb shook his head, aiming to get his best friend and foster brother back on his feet. "I should have him sent to his bedchambers."

"I'll take him," Jon quickly said while taking Theon's arm and slinging it over his shoulder to properly hold him up. "This is your wedding day, don't bother with any of this."

He normally would've argued against it, mostly because everyone had known Jon and Theon had little to no love for one another. Jon did not go out of his way for Theon nor vice versa, but it was because this was his wedding day, Jon would do this for him. With a slight smile, Robb placed his hand on Jon's shoulder since he was unable to truly think of how he could properly show his gratitude. "Thank you, Jon." All he had received was a small smile and a nod before Jon diligently helped Theon out of the Great Hall.

Now that Theon was taken care of, Robb looked over to Steffon, who still only kept one eye open. "You're a married man now and married to my sister no less," Steffon suddenly said. "How does it feel? To be married, that is."

Steffon became less of a stranger over the course of the Baratheon-Lannister stay in Winterfell. He still would've felt more comfortable to speak about had it been someone else that he married. "It doesn't feel like anything, really." He kept his honesty despite how awkward he felt talking about this.

"It hasn't really set in yet," Steffon understood that much, more than Robb would think. "I suppose it won't, until it's just the two of you together in Winterfell with your family." More sober than he was minutes prior, Steffon took cautious steps away from the wall, having done his best not to stumble. "My sister, my twin, means the world to me and it does me well to know she's married to someone I can trust to be good to her." Robb nodded, his smile only slightly. He understood Steffon's concerns, it was only natural as a brother and he couldn't fault him for it. Even if he was threatened, he would bear Steffon no grudge. "Keep her safe and if you can, make her happy. That's all I could ever want for her."

"I promise that Joanna is in good hands," was all Robb could think to say. It seemed to have done justice, seeing as Steffon's expression was less of concern and more relaxed. "Perhaps you should retire for the night. You don't need anything else to drink."

"You're right, I don't need more to drink but I'm afraid that I can't rest just yet. Your little sister will be most angry with me if I do." Confused as to who he meant and why, Robb furrowed his brows.

"Which one? And why would they be angry with you?" Robb questioned and halfway entertained at the idea of it being Arya. Arya's anger was nothing to dismiss, even if you were the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

Steffon smirked. "Lady Arya requested, well more like demanded, that I tell her more about my sister, Mya Stone. You know more than I of your sister's liking to hear of unconventional women." Robb believed it. He believed it wholeheartedly. "Ah, speaking of which, here she comes."

Turning his head, Robb saw his brunette of a sister and her cool grey eyes locked on Steffon, as though he were some sort of target. She should've been told to go to bed by now, but Arya had ways of sneaking out of doing most proper things. Alongside her was Bran, looking every which way, possibly on the lookout for their mother, who would put an end to their quest.

"There you are!" She was half annoyed, half giddy. Her brows were knitted together but a smile played about her lips. "What happened to telling us stories about the Vale?" So Bran wanted something out of it as well.

"Shouldn't the both of you be in bed?" inquired Robb, eyes looking back and forth between his younger siblings. "The hour of your bedtime has gone." He almost wished he hadn't chastised her. Jon was weak when it came to her and Robb did his best to stand firm yet when she made her eyes look so sad… he was just as weak, if not weaker, than Jon. So, he sighed and smiled, and she knew right away that she had beaten him. "Be sure not to get caught, understand?"

"We understand," the two of them said in unison, both grinning. Arya hurried her way to stand before Steffon, Bran following in step.

Robb decided to leave them, not wanting to be a distraction and having gotten to learn some of Steffon's stay in the Eyrie already. He aimed to find Joanna, curious if she had her fill of the night's splendour. He didn't have to look for her necessarily since his father decided to make the announcement.

With a raise of Ned Stark's hand, the entire Great Hall became quiet.

"Today is a momentous day for House Stark and House Baratheon." His father began his speech. "As promised years ago, these Houses are bound by blood and no one could be more proud than Robert and I, to see our children healthy and married. Let us give our congratulations to Robb and Joanna Stark, who from this day forward, will one day lead Winterfell and the North when I am long gone." There was applause, clapping, and cheers. Everywhere he looked, many of the lord and ladies looked overjoyed with only a few sour faces, Lord Karstark for one. "And now it is time for them to retire and with no bed ceremony to follow them to their chambers."

Robb had already stood before his wife, who stood by the side of her father with her head held high. Usually she would have her head down, eyes to the floor, but not now. It might've been the many eyes that looked at her, whispers and questions of why tradition was not to be held. The disappointment amongst the nobles wasn't great, but neither could it be missed.

"Joanna," he called her name and her green eyes looked at him with something akin to nervousness. How could she not be nervous? The both of them knew what entailed once they left and entered his bedchambers. With his arm proffered, Joanna linked her arm gingerly with his, and people parted to let them through. The path was clear, all the way to the tall and wide oak doors.

They hadn't spoken. Robb was sure that they both were feeling uncertain of what to say, he absolutely was. This was awkward and odd, new to the both of them. What kind of conversation could loosen the oppressive, strange silence that fell between them?

"Did you feel wronged?" The voice that belonged to his wife broke through the silence. "About the bedding ceremony not being held?"

He opened the door to his bedchambers first, letting her take first entrance before following behind and giving her an answer. "I'm actually relieved we didn't have it," he said, trying to smile to ease the tension. "Some traditions are best skipped over."

"You did not want those ladies to remove your clothes?" Joanna was genuinely curious of that. She even wanted to look at him as he told her feelings about it. His wife was strange sometimes; inquisitive and strange. You never knew what her mood would be.

"Does that really matter right now?" She frowned at his question, looking a bit annoyed, even. Did she really want to know whether or not he'd like to be stripped nude by women he didn't know? It hadn't bothered him, not truly. It was intrusive but not troublesome on his end of things. It was her that he worried for.

"I was only asking a question…" Joanna mumbled indignantly, unfortunately reminding him of her twin-brother.

"Fine, I'll answer you." The last he wanted was to begin this union with her angry with him. "But that's not what makes me relieved it was skipped. It was more of the idea that you didn't have to suffer through it."

Joanna tried to hide her smile, but she failed. "Is that the way of the Starks? You think so heavily on the feelings of your family? Even me, who hasn't been a Stark for a whole day?"

"You are my wife," Robb reminded her. "Why would I not think of your feelings?"

"It's just… new to me, is all." Her eyes looked down at her hands, seemingly to fiddle with them as she had always done when nervous or afraid. Robb was picking up all her little habits quickly. "So, what happens now?"

Robb shifted, suddenly feeling all-too unsure of himself. He couldn't leave a single thing up to her, though. If he did, then they would be going nowhere fast. His steps were leisurely, only coming to stand before her just to brush back some of her blonde hair that laid over her shoulder. She watched him with cautious eyes and a blush staining her face.

"We should probably undress first." He smiled, hoping to lighten her mood.

"Oh, yes," she replied as color still stained her cheeks, "I should probably take this off, right? I can't have it ruined. It's a precious gift." Her hand went to rub her neck, however. "Uh, would you… Would you, well, get the laces? I… I can't untie them."

She spun quickly, her back turned to him and undid what he had done to her hair, by bringing it back over her shoulders. She only did it so he could have clear access to the laces of her wedding dress that ran up the back of it.

While this was awkward and not ideal, Robb couldn't help but be slightly pleased at her sudden request. With just a hint of hesitation, he pulled off his leather gloves and threw them atop of the nearby desk. He would have to tug the laces carefully since he felt his hands to be too large for such a task, which already seemed all too delicate to do. Regardless, Robb was determined to help and plucked at the dainty laces, thinning his lips as he worked whilst trying to be patient.

It came as a surprise when her dress began to slip, revealing the sight of the creamy skin of her back and the thin material of a white, silken slip. Gods, she looked soft. Fragile, even. Yet, he was so tempted to touch her, that his hands moved as if they had a mind of their own. His fingertips were trailing sinuously down her back. Her skin was so smooth that Robb couldn't help but to huff out a pleased noise from the sight and feel.

All he had known was the hard bite of steel and unbearably cold days that sometimes would end quickly or seem like they never would. The feel of a woman under his hands was a touch he had never known since he deprived himself from it because he wanted to choose the honorable path.

Robb stopped marveling at her when he realized Joanna had shivered at his touch. Just from the slight movement of her body, the dress had gone even further down her shoulders, revealing more flesh. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, thudding ever so loudly, that he would've sworn Joanna could have heard it too. A primal part of his mind was even more tempted to push her dress all the way down.

Joanna glanced over her shoulder, eyes meeting his, and said absolutely nothing. He knew not what to make of her stare, as she held her loosened dress to her breasts, clinging to this very half-hearted sense of modesty.

He could only sigh since his mind was a muddled mess, leaving him completely unsure of what to say or do. If he acted out on his urges, she would loathe him. All of this was unbearably agonizing because while he may not yet love her, he desired her. He hated the way she turned to him, arms pressed against her chest to not rid her body of the dress that he's halfway ready to tear, despite her affections for it.

Since the quiet was silently driving him mad, he took advantage of it by leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. The taste of summerwine was faint, but his wife seemed so rigid over such a press of lips, that he thought he might've behaved too impulsively. Thinking himself wrong and abhorrently selfish, Joanna caught both sides his face by the hands and kept him from pulling away.

Tugging her mouth off his, Joanna took a step back, removing her arms from her breasts to let the gown slip further down since it was halted from her grasp. She even slid down the straps of her slip, making both slip and dress slid down her waist, pooling right under her pert breasts. Her pink nipples were already hardened and not from cool air either, for Winterfell was always warm.

JOANNA

Robb had done his best to make sure that the pain she would come to feel wouldn't be as sore had she not been relaxed. Whether it was an exploration of his digits in her sex, languid open-mouth kissing that turned to teeth nipping flesh of sensitive spots she never knew were on her neck. He had done it at a pace that would keep her from harboring tension, but she still felt it heavy in her chest, coiling in her stomach, and in the muscles of her thighs. It all came to be when they were finally free of clothes and he settled atop of her, on the bed, because the inevitable was too many seconds close to happening.

"We can stop." The offer was surprising and it left her confused. "We won't do anything you don't want to." It doesn't matter what she wants …and for Robb to care about what she wants…

"No, I want this." It's not a complete lie. It was, at first, initially hard to decipher what she felt and what to make of it. She knew that she desired Robb and whether or not her desire was charged by her inexperience or her attraction to him was what left her muddled. She's confused, rightfully so, because she would've loved to love the man who was to take away what their world deems so important to a woman: her chastity. "Please," Joanna practically begged, hating herself for having made him worry and thinking of things she knows were never meant to happen to someone like her. Joanna knew her place, but her heart… It's such a stubborn thing that does more than beats diligently in her chest.

Robb nodded, slowly but with understanding. Joanna had forced herself to relax, breathing slowly as she felt the head of his length nudge her folds. He eased into her with precaution, not all daring to rush it, but she hated the way he was watching her closely and Joanna was sure he saw her wincing.

"Joanna," There's a bit of force in his tone. It makes her look at him, eyes glossing and daring to blur her world grey. "Are you okay?" She hoped she could blink her tears away as she nodded, encouraging him to slide further in.

All that leaves her lips is a loud, pain-filled hiss and he stopped again, sweetly concerned. "I'm sorry, Joanna." Robb tried to be soothing and assuring. With one deep inhale and a rather shaky exhale, Joanna tried to relax herself so he could continue. Then this could all be over with. Perhaps the worst part is essentially over, but she immediately deems the thought wrong, when he is finally able to hilt himself with a few gentle thrusts.

His forehead came to rest against hers, blue eyes staring steadily into her own as if she desired this. Robb was trying make this romantic for her, by making her look into the very blue hues she found to be the most attractive feature about him. While his words always carried a sense of pity to her ears, it was his gaze that told her all the soft endearments that he was trying to vocally convey.

To convince him that she was ready, having had enough time to adjust to the feel of him, Joanna let her fingers cling to the warm skin of his back. Carefully, he eased himself out before sliding back in a steady thrust. Pain sparked, just for the briefest of moments, and the look in his eyes gives her another genuine apology.

It takes time but a rhythm is found and its pace is slow and gentle. All the strangeness of this intrusion is forgotten when he presses his lips against her neck. One hand of his hopes to replace the pain with a press of his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves.

Underneath her fingers, as they cling against his back, is the feel of straining muscles because he's doing his best to hold back. "It's okay," her voice is a breathy whisper, "move as you'd like." He sighed in relief as he drove into her again, much more roughly and at a pace she could tell that he had desperately desired these past several minutes.

She found it—or rather felt it—her own elation begin to build from his savage thrusts. A guttural, discordant cry had left him as his hands bruising as they clutched her hips once she quickened their pace, seeking to feed the heat that grew in her belly that had burned, white and hot.

Joanna's eyes fluttered shut when he followed over the edge, pouring the seed that will end this communion once and for all. She used Robb as an anchor, clenching unfearingly around him, while clinging to him tightly with arms and thighs.

It was over.

She had rightfully done her duty.

In a daze, she lied there, chest heaving to catch her breath that feels like it'll never come back to her. Robb eased his length from her, collapsing onto his back beside her on the mattress. He slung his forearm loosely over his eyes, exhausted and stunned all at once.

That was it. She had nothing left of Joanna Baratheon; not her name, her rank and now her chastity. Once her family was gone, she would be Joanna Stark completely, both in body and name.

A/N: Awkward first night is awkward. At least all of this is finally out of the way and I get to the more fun parts. / rubs hands mischievously )

I also just want to make it known that with each pov there is some unreliable narration. After all, that's their point of view about things. You can take that how you want. c:

Sparky She-Demon: Sassy or not, I'm pretty sure that she'll be a great character either way! As long as Robb is alive and loved, that's all that matters. Lol.

Wombat8: I'm cackling! Robert knows he's a fuck-up, so I think it's easy to be surprised why his kids aren't as bad if not worse then him. Then again, that isn't so true because he's really surprised about Joffrey. But, still, he knows he's an awful parent and I think that's one of the very few things I liked about him... Though I hate that he realized that while dying and not earlier on.

Pikapyon: Omggg you're reading this too? Ah, I'm glad you like it. / screams internally ) Thank you.