Thank you, all readers and commenters! You guys are so so awesome! •Don't forget to check out the additional commentary and credits at the end of the chapter. ˙u˙
"I wonder about Roose and Farren's mother. Could it be that Farren is the fruit of Roose forcing himself on Holly in the past? It seems that way since Farren has eyes similar to his own."- xXRosexScorpiusXx,
I got to say Rose made a great point. ;) If Farren is Roose's bastard daughter, I believe that may pose many more questions...As much as I would love to reveal the answers, only the character's can expose the truth. So, you'll have to keep reading and always keep an eye out for clues. ;) Thanks for the comment Rose.
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The forest smelled of damp leaves and the echoing sounds of the river cast through the trees. Above the moon began to fade and give way to dawn. In the quiet hours of the morning, Robb Stark asked himself what he should do, and he found that he was at a loss.
He withdrew his long fur cloak, spread it on the grass, then laid Farren on it. He called her name countless times, and endlessly pleaded with her to wake, to say something, anything, but she refused.
A cold wind blew, and the chill made him shiver. His hand found its way to her chest, more than once, to feel for her heart, to feel it rise and fall with the telltale sign of life. With each breath Farren took, it brought Robb some small, precious reprieve. It had lasted a second before his thoughts tormented him.
How would he tell her family? How would he tell his father about the maiden he courted, and how he had failed to protect her? There was a space inside his heart occupied by sweet and gentle Farren, one that no one else could ever fill. You can not leave me.
"Farren, please wake up," Robb pleaded, his voice was a desperate man's, bordering on the edge of despair. How could he explain himself to Farren's mother? Robb buried the thought and closing his eyes tight. "Farren?" his voice was harsher now, his temper rising to keep him from leaping off the hill of hopelessness.
He spat a curse at the horse that had thrown her. The damned creature looked up with a soft whiny, and then turned its head, completely oblivious to what had occurred. Robb felt Farren's chest rise and fall beneath his hand, and his anger snubbed.
Gently, he lifted her head into his lap and ran his thumb across her cheek, brushing a small bit of hair behind her ear. His breath got caught in his throat as he stared at what lay underneath. A slick of blood stained her hairline. Urgently, dabbed the cut with his sleeve, his effort leaving a bright reddish smudge on her pale skin. The sight made him panic, and his heart beat frantically. Careful to lay Farren's had back down, he stumbled to his feet, and quickly grabbed the empty flask from his horse's saddle. Quickly, he popped open the cork, and turned it down into his hands, but to his dismay, only a single drop trickled out.
He bolted into the dark wood, weaving between trees, each a black and blue shaded pillar that crept up quickly in the shadows. He veered through pine leaves, closing his eyes as shooting branches with sharp needles scraped his face. The urgency to aid the bleeding girl overcame his senses, and he quickly followed the sound of running water. The scent of moss and wet leaves carried him to the source. Robb rushed to the water, his boots slipped down the bank's incline, unearthing mud and leaves in his wake. He dropped to his knees and plunged the flask deep into the water, cursing the slow current until the container filled.
He raced his way back to the Wierwood grove where Farren still lay, he knelt beside her and trickled his flask above her head. The water washed the cut above her eye. He dabbed up the blood with his padded sleeve, staining the cuffs of his doublet. Robb's heart did not rest. With a shuddering sigh, he glanced up at the Wierwood face. The sad expression it had before now appeared careless, and unforgiving. The Weirwood face watched him struggle without batting an eye. Robb growled in frustration.
Just help me, he prayed as he brought Farren back into his arms, her head cradled in his arms, her shoulders resting on his thigh. The wind stirred the tops of trees as Robb gazed at her. "Farren, open your eyes. Your eyes are beautiful. Please allow me to see them." He glanced up at the sky and caught sight of the moon. The misty afterglow reminded him of her eyes. He thought the first time he's seen them and the memory calmed to his heart. The night they met subsisted in his mind when Farren visited Winterfell from several moons ago, that night He struggled with the question, would he ever behold her again.
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When the everyday frost had changed to snow, His Father had told him winter was coming. The northerners persisted through the coldest of winters for centuries because they looked to House Stark's guidance. But in return, House Stark's survival depended on their subjects. Robb knew his father relied on his vassal lords to rule the land by upholding his laws and the law of the king, especially during the winter, when many areas of the North grew isolated by snow and ice.
The Lords of the North had pledged their loyalty to House Stark, and to face summer's end, Lord Stark sought to renew their promises by holding a commendation ceremony for each major house.
He held lively feasts to celebrate the event and issued all of his vassals a personal invitation. He encouraged the lords to bring their families and vassals so Robb and his siblings could get to know the other noble houses.
Nights filled the great hall with aromas of delicious smelling food and cheerful music, the room always had a joyful atmosphere, but Robb found the evenings a torment.
He had grown tired of all the dull ceremony. Lord after Lord brought a huge entourage to Winterfell, complete with their captains, vassal lords, and various nobles from the lesser houses pledged them. They would carry their banners to Winterfell to witness their liege bend the knee and renew his vows. A grand feast always followed, but those who attended gradually departed within the week. Robb had kindled no relationships with any of the lordlings or young ladies that he'd met at the feasts so far. What was the point of mingling with strangers who would depart only a few days later?
At yet another tiring dinner, he sat the secondary table with Theon at his side. He played with his dinner fork as his friend ate and drank more than his fill. "Could you be any less miserable?" Theon yammered with a mouth full. "Have a damn drink already!" He nudged Robb as he slid a wine-filled goblet in front of him.
Robb pushed the cup aside with a huff. "Why should I bother? Father is forcing me to rise early again tomorrow to go on another hunt with his bannermen."
"Since when do you not enjoy a hunt?"
"Don't mistake me, I love them, but my Father always offers the kill to the Lord of honor. He says it's tradition, and we must be polite. I'm simply there for show. The sport has become tiresome as I'm weary of these feasts. These people come and go too quickly. For the first time, I envy Jon. My mother hasn't allowed him to attend any of the events. He has no idea how lucky he is."
"MmHmm." Theon shrugged and proceeded to chew. Robb rolled his eyes and deeply sighed, he crossed his arms and surveyed the room. He gazed lazily over the sea of faces and suddenly stopped when one caught his attention. More beautiful than any other in the room, a young woman near his age, she sat at the table at the back, chatting with a friend. He became fixated on her and stretched his neck for a closer glimpse. A nudge on his arm pulled his eyes away from her. "Well, I'm off," Theon said, he picked his teeth as he rose and went ahead to mingle with the crowd.
Robb turned his attention back to the girl, taking in her elegant features. She had dark hair and had a northerner's fair skin, her lips and eyes drew him in like a moth to a flame. She smiled as she spoke and held herself with grace. The sight of her pleased him, and soon he wished to talk to her. Her every feature drew his eyes until he purposely looked away. He bitterly glared down at the wooden table top, the crumbs and stains were a view that suited his mood.
Meeting the lovely girl would be unavailing, she was bound to leave in the morning, and they'd never see or hear of each other again. She'd quietly marry some lesser lord, and he'd marry some noble lady from a ruling house.
Robb sighed and gave her one swift glance You are beautiful, but I should not tease myself. He shook his head and turned his attention to the sight of Theon. He wondered about the hall chatting with whoever he pleased. Robb smiled, knowing full well the Iron Islander's intentions for the evening.
It amused him to see how Theon managed when it came to coaxing women into bed. He'd ruined his reputation among Sansa's friends, and all girls in Winterfell for the matter. So he bartered silver coins for nightly visits to the town brothel. Unfortunately for Theon as of late, the reoccurring ceremonial feasts forced him to spend his evenings at Winterfell. He had complained about the company for weeks, saying most of the girls were maidens who had no interest in sharing his bed. But Theon was resourceful when it came to women, and he'd developed a strategy for finding petty lord's daughter's worth his while.
Humored, Robb watched his friend from afar. The young man who Theon chatted with shrugged and shook his head. Theon moved on to talk with the next young man. Whatever Theon said made the lordling laugh heartily. He clapped a hand on Theon's shoulder and pointed to the back of the room.
Something intriguing drove Theon followed in that direction and found a lordling around to his age. The young man had short tawny hair, he was tall with a stable build and wore a striking emerald kerchief around his neck. Robb considered the young man's appearance and resolved a thought. Sansa would swoon over this one if he'd come from a greater house. He chuckled to himself. Humored in amazement, as He watched Theon proceed with his cunning charade. The Iron Islander introduced himself to the young man with a charming smile. The two talked for a few minutes and shared a few laughs before a parting with a solid forearm grip handshake.
As he weaved his way back through the crowded hall, Theon wore a broad grin. Robb smiled at him to congratulate on his success. "Who'd you meet?" He asked as Theon took a seat beside him.
"His name's Hazel. He's the grandson of some Lord named, Furth? Or Frith? Whatever his name may be, I made a deal with him," Theon remarked. His lips curved into a smug smile, and his eyes held a wanton look.
"You seem proud of yourself," Robb remarked in amusement.
Theon grinned, "Very."
Robb chuckled, He had no interest in Theon's conquests, but he would admit the stories were always entertaining. "So what does your deal entail?" He asked curiously.
"I will be making an exchange with him," Theon said with an uppity air and a grin on his face. "I agreed to introduce him to a proper lady, and in return, he introduces me to one."
A proper Lady? Robb burst into laughter. Of course, Theon made an arrangement to get a woman in bed. He found it strange, though, that his friend would let someone else introduce him to a girl instead of pursuing her himself. "Why not just go sit next to someone attractive and start talking to her?"
"If I have to listen to her I want to know it'll be worth my time," Theon replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Theon wasn't looking for anything special, anything long lasting or precious. All he sought was a release. Whether before or after, He did not care to conversate much with girls.
"You must find it frustrating to hear them speak at all." Robb chuckled, he sipped his wine, smiling into his cup.
Unfazed, Theon wiped his mouth on his sleeve and signaled a servant girl for more wine, his eyes crawling over her form as she did so.
"So who do you suggest I pass off in return," He asked.
"You'd know better than I would," Robb replied. He pursed his lips, and he did not care to give Theon's quandary much thought. He could only offer a guess, "Ser Rodrick's niece offered herself up to me once, but I turned her away."
"I know that already since I acted as your replacement." Theon guffawed, then shook his head. "She's a real wench, but she's of no use to me."
"Why not?" Robb grinned, "If she'll bed you, she's sure to lay with anyone. Or perhaps it is the other way around." He laughed alone. Theon glared at him as he collected himself. "I can't use that girl because of the way she looks."
"Whats wrong with her?"
"Tiny tits, and mule's ears."
"Mule's ears?" Robb snorted, "Her mule's ears didn't stop you from bedding her." He shielded himself as Theon tried to punch him.
"Aye, but I hold little standards for the girls I bed. Teeth, tits, and toes. But this petty lord was arrogant. The prick said he preferred a golden-haired girl who..." Theon paused as he focused his eyes through the sea of bodies milling around the Hall. Before Robb could ask him what he saw in the crowd, Theon clapped him on the back and disappeared into the mass.
With the table to himself, Robb leaned back in his seat and listened to the music. He stretched his legs, rested his head on his hands, and took in the revelry throughout the room. Without his best friend's lively company, he quickly grew tired of the mundane entertainment.
Robb wished he could retire for the evening, but to do so would insult his father's guests. Remembering his manners, he covered his mouth as he let out a huge yawn, and cast a weary look at the banners that draped the walls. House Mormont's banners had adorned the wall the fortnight before. Now they were replaced with those of the current vassal his father was hosting, the flayed man of House Bolton.
Ridiculous, Robb thought as he stared at the dark banner. The gruesome sigil might be a source of pride to the Boltons and their vassals, but the residents of Winterfell only felt varying degrees of indifference and disgust towards it. Robb knew his people wouldn't be too bothered by it. Northmen were accustomed to a harsh world, and a banner would not affect them that deeply. They were a cool, stern-faced people, but with much ale and a warm hearth, their spirits would rise, and their frozen natures would thaw.
Many of the northern lords shared that temperament, but the Lord of the Dreadfort did not. With a single glance, Robb discerned that Roose Bolton was a rather unusual individual. The man's eyes were as pale as snow, and they were frightening. Robb had never seen eyes that seemed so bored, yet very aware. Lord Bolton toyed lazily with his dinner knife as he shared small talk with Lord Stark. Robb was impressed by his father's ability to abide Lord Bolton's unsettling presence. Roose Bolton didn't even look his father in the eye as he spoke. Instead, the man stared ahead, aloof, with his gaze fastened to something in the rear of the hall. Robb shivered when he realized the man had yet to blink. He wondered what held the Lord's attention.
He turned around to try to find an answer to his question, but only saw a crowd of nondescript nobles, conversing, and drinking. No one person stood out. The faces blended, all alike to Robb. He glanced over them and spotted the girl who he'd admired earlier in the evening. She looked lovely, adorned an elegant dress of emerald green, with black baroque that flowed across her breast. He decided he had to get a closer glimpse when someone blocked his view entirely.
"My Lord, I have waited half evening to meet you." The high-pitched voice of a young woman caught Robb off guard. The girl walked around him, settling herself beside in on the bench, her eyes never once leaving him. "I know we ought to be suitably introduced, but it seems my father's nowhere to be found, and yours is occupied. I hope you'll pardon my impropriety, but I think you're too charming to ignore."
"I.. who?" Robb murmured. "I'm sorry, I haven't your name. My Lady?"
"Daria," The girl introduced herself. She said she was the noble daughter of a lord named Locke, and moments later Robb knew everything about her. The girl spoke incredibly fast and moved an inch closer to him with every word spoken. Half-heartedly, He tried to engage her in conversation, but when she drew uncomfortably near, he began to fidget. Suddenly, she ran several adventurous fingers over his thigh. She claimed his personal space, showing him an eye-full of her cleavage, and giggled excessively at every word he said.
Theon would have found you entertaining. Unnerved, Robb smiled as he shifted away, though her hand slipped further up his leg. Suddenly, she withdrew her fingers. Curious, Robb glanced up to see what had stopped the girl's pursuit. He felt shocked and delighted to see a young woman sitting before him. The one he had been admiring, in all her glory. She was stunning, near and far. He promptly introduced himself as she stole his attention.
Farren of House Frith Robb repeated her name, keeping it in mind. He wished to remember such a beautiful girl. He would remember Farren Frith. The shade of her hair matched a brown raven's feathers. The gods had decorated her with the pleasing features of beauty, gracing her with a heart-shaped face, and skin the color of cream, her eyes alike. Their conversation flowed effortlessly and left Robb feeling warm. He suddenly found the evening far more enjoyable.
He noticed Theon had returned to the table, and he brought his new friend, the young man with the emerald kerchief. He had his arm around the waist of a golden-haired girl. Robb thought it funny to learn the other girl, the talkative one, Daria, turned out to be Theon's prize. The two couples had decided to visit the god's wood. Wishing to enjoy Farren's company away from the crowded hall, Robb invited her on a stroll through the wood as well.
Within the grove, the trees grew dense, and the noisy feast hall fell out of sight, replaced the soft shadowed wood and peaceful sounds of the evening. Casually, Robb took her hand, and their fingers naturally entwined. "Do you like the God's Wood?" Robb asked, suddenly fearing to bore her.
"Very much," Farren smiled, and his heart lifted. A sudden noise made Robb turned to see Theon approaching them with a friendly smile. "Pardon me, My Lady, if I may..." Theon asked. "I need to have a quick word with Lord Stark."
Farren softly smiled in reply. Theon tugged him toward a dark oak tree. Robb groaned, he looked at his friend irritably. "What is so important, that it needs to be said?" He asked.
"She's his sister," Theon responded, a little touch of urgency slipping into his voice.
Robb rose a brow in surprise. "Whose sister?"
"Hazel's, Hazel's sister. The girl you're with is Hazel's sister."
He remembered the young man with the emerald kerchief, who Theon had bargained with to secure a pretty girl. "What?" Robb glared at Theon. Was his friend trying to insinuate something? "What does that have to do with anything? We weren't doing anything that would require her brother to defend her honor. What did you say to him?" He scowled at Theon's hand laid on his shoulder.
His friend smiled reassuringly, "No need to worry, I told him you wouldn't fuck her."
Robb froze in shock. He snatched Theon's hand and pushed it off of him. "I wasn't thinking of fucking her," He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to punch the carefree look off of his friend's face. It was not pleasant. Frustrated, he released a complaining sigh. He did want to get close to the Farren, truly. He found her breathtaking. The three glasses of wine at the feast added to his desire and the lust that flowed through him. He had to remind himself she was a noble and a maiden, deserving better than a quick romp in the dirt with a ready man. He had no ill-willed plan and thought nothing like the Iron Islander. Robb sighed, "What did you tell her brother?"
"I reassured him and said you most likely would not fuck his virgin sister," Theon laughed, leaning against the oak grinning. "Don't look so grim Robb. I'm fooling with you. Hazel only asks that you respect his sister." Theon crossed his arms, "But I say if she opens her legs for you, then why not accept the invitation?"
Robb shook his head incredulity. "I'm not you, Theon. She's a noble maiden, and I'm not going to rob her of her honor."
"Her honor?" Theon laughed, "She's the daughter of your Bannerman's, Bannerman. She's bound to leave in the morning."
Farren of house Frith Robb repeated the maiden's name in his head and sighed, he shook his head and plucked a shred of tree bark off of the oak, "Theon I have no ill intentions with a maiden or the daughter of a lord, no matter his standing." Casually, Robb glanced over at the girl. She waited for him near the Wierwood. Her figure was gorgeous, painted in the moon glow, and oh so tempting. He shifted his gaze elsewhere with a subtle groan. Farren of house Frith
"Do something wrong for once." Theon stepped closer, his voice full of encouragement, "You could take her without consequence. You're never going to see her again after tonight."
"How can I dishonor her for the sake of myself? She-" Robb stammered.
"Then you're wasting your time with her."
"She was the prettiest girl in that entire hall. The truth is, I saw her earlier, and I would have talked to her. I wanted to talk to her."
"She is a beautiful thing, Robb. You won't regret it after she's gone. You'll only miss her until you forget her name."
Theon made a case Robb did not wish to accept. He turned away from his friend with no response, ..I will not forget.
Farren of house Frith
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Robb shook his head free of recollections.
Farren.
I never forgot you.
Staring down at Farren's fearfully calm face and watching with bated breath as she breathed in slow and steady. Robb realized he had fallen in love with her. It seemed strange to know he'd once overlooked this woman and now prayed to any god that would listen for her to return to him. When he met first her, he thought the feeling was infatuation, a passing flame that would burn out the moment she left Winterfell. But Farren did not leave him the same man he was before. She had charmed him and burrowed her way into his memory. Now, the thought of being without her was unacceptable.
Robb gazed up at the Weirwood. The sun peaked from the treetops, and an early bird twittered and as he gazed upon Farren's face. Her small frame laid out on the furs, he Ran his hand through her hair and cradled her shoulders. He imagined her looking up at him with her eyes, full of warmth and trust. Suddenly her eyelashes fluttered, and she blinked up at him. He thought his heart would burst with relief and joy alike. Weight had hoisted off his chest as he held her hand tight in his.
A breeze swept over the tops of the Wierwood to swaying the leaves. Robb looked up at the canopy of crimson leaves. He thanked his gods he had her, that they hadn't seen fit to take her from him. He understood Farren's faith to belonged to that tree and all those alike, and no man could speak falsehoods before a Wirewood.
Robb gazed down at gazed down at Farren, his face full of devotion, and a tenderness shining in his eyes, "I've fallen in love with you." He whispered, and his heart filled with zeal when Farren's lips twitched into a little smile, while her eyes shone with life. She ran her fingers along his cheek. He coveted them, and held her hand against his face, reveling in her warmth.
He cradled Farren in his arms, holding her as tight as he dared. She settled comfortably in his lap, head against his chest, a hand resting over his heart. Farren slumped heavily against him, and Robb began to worry that she was far too weak and weary. I need to get you home.
He gazed at the horses while in thought. He decided it would be best if Farren rode with him, but when he suggested the idea she drowsily begged that they remain awhile longer. Taken as he was for her, he would do as she willed. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head.
Even if you were able to ride yourself, I refuse to let you back on that accursed mare. Robb narrowed his eyes and scowled at the creature in question. The horse ignored Robb's sneer. She swatted her tail along her back as she grazed.
"Wildling nag." Robb scowled, then turned his attention to Farren. He allowed this to happen, why did he not shield his lady from harm. The weight of that failure lingered in his mind, even as he held her safe against him. A horse had trampled her while with she was him, and only by the gods' mercy was she alive. Robb felt his spirit grow wings when amazingly, Farren sat up on her knees and stretched. It was an impressive display of strength, and the sight left him awestruck.
She softly yawned and rubbed her head. "Robb, don't look downhearted. I'm fine. I'm still alive." She poked him softly in the chest, as a smile formed on her lips.
Her laughter loosened the knot in his chest. A bird chirped, and Robb gazed around him and saw it was morning. "I should take you home," He said as shifted to sit behind her, his arms wrapped around her's and the small of her back fit against his body. "My horse will carry us both. You shall not ride alone." Brushing her hair aside, he grazed his lips across her neck, taking in the scent of her skin. "Farren, I am sorry this happened." He whispered.
She turned to face him with glowing eyes, they traced his back and forth. "I heard you, Robb, what you spoke. Are your feelings-" she stopped there, seeming confused, hesitant, and most of all, unsure of what she may have heard.
Robb hesitated, unsure of what words to use. There was no simple approach in admitting how he felt, without knowing she had come to feel the same. The feeling that he failed her still lingered inside and masked his self-assurance.
"I..I admire you thoroughly, my lady. Your spirit amazes me." He contemplated his fondness for her, what had drawn him. She was beautiful and kind. Farren honored the laws of her fathers, she followed their traditions and lived by ideals set by the gods. And there was mettle inside her, a fierceness that had taken him by surprise. But, Farren let her heart decide her actions.
He met her gaze, and realized, suddenly, that her nature reminded him of his own. They held to honor, and family above all else, and justice came close behind.
You must know already that I am in love with you, Robb studied her soft face, Farren's eyes were the shade of the moon, and just as the moon's radiance charmed the wolf, she had the captured him.
"My lady, I find you fascinating."
"fascinating? And what is it about me that fascinates you, my lord?"
Taking her hand in his, he cradled her fingers and gazed into her eyes, "Do you wish to hear the entire list? He chuckled, "It is rather long, and I do not wish to bore you with compliments." Hearing the warm laughter of the women who defeated his senses, Robb found the courage bred within him, "But perhaps my lady, you will allow me to say that I've fallen in love with you." The words left his lips and made his heart pound. He'd never said this to a woman before. Her eyes stood still in shock, then sparkled in joy.
"I can say nothing less than the same. That I have fallen in love." Her lips raised and suddenly they were pressed against his, her jubilant laugh muffled by their mouths.
Robb's heart leaped from his chest. Abruptly, he lifted her onto him, so she straddled his lap, his lips touched hers and guided her movements firmly, with hands gripping her waist.
He trailed quick kisses over her cheek and under her chin, not noticing that her hair draped down like a curtain around them, the soft locks brushed like silk as he took her back into his lap. When she brought her lips to his ear he listened, "I am in love with all of you." She whispered softly, repeating her love for him over and over again, like the holiest prayer she'd ever whispered. Her words, the heat of her breath, and the sound of her voice lit a fire in him.
The yearning to lie with her had returned. Robb had felt it so often with Farren, and he denied himself every time, now that she said the words, he could deny no more. The feel of her on his lap, in his arms, kissing him, her whispering her love in his ear, it was too all much. Farren was a maiden and needed a man's guidance, perceiving the thought Robb held her by the hips and pulled and pushed her gently, so she stirred in his lap. He looked up at her, and with his eyes, he begged her to continue. She moved just as shown and began to grow hard. Deciding he no longer struggled with his past convictions, readmitting his sincerity. Gazing at her intensely, he wished to confess what he desired, and he saw in her eyes that she wanted the same. So suddenly, He crashed his lips against hers and kissed her hard, ran a hand through her hair, and let the other trail down her neck, then over her breast. Unexpectedly Her hand met his fingers, and she moved them closer to the laces at the front of her waistcoat and didn't let go until his fingers gripped the delicate cords. Robb tore at her clothes as she unlaced his jerkin, yanking at the leather cord that concealed his chest. A fire inside drove the raw nature of his body and mind. He swiftly unfastened his belt, loosening his britches, while his mouth worshiped hers with tongue and teeth and lips. He heard her let out a breathy moan as he tasted her.
When his jerkin and cotton shirt were finally off, and his chest was exposed to the cold night air, he rapidly untied the lacing of his pants. He wandered back up to touch her bared breasts, ran his fingers over her soft, unblemished skin. The wind caressed his back as his knees met fur cloak beneath them. Drawing Farren's body below him, He laid between her legs and pressing her between his chest and the fur cloak underneath. He was ready for her, and she was waiting with a pounding heart. Craving her in need, he bent her knee up beside his waist, with his fingers gripped her thigh as he shifted his hips forward.
He loudly exhaled chest as seized her maidenhood, a gasp echoed by the woman beneath him. She was tight and warm, and sweeter than anything he'd ever felt. Thrusting slowly and, on the verge he prayed not to lose himself instantly. She trembled and clung tightly to his shoulder and faintly murmured into his ear. The sound of her voice was cracked and discerning, and Robb knew she was tasting a maiden's pain. He hesitated, but with her hands wrapped behind his neck, she pulled him closer and begged him not to stop. Warming his ear with her breath, the delicate touch of her lips filled his head with thoughts he never had before...Farren would make an excellent mother, he realized suddenly. As he trusted into her, he strangely yearned for her to bear his children, to see her swell and know that she was his, just as he was hers.
I want to be yours and you to be mine. I swear to the gods that I will make you will be mine. He pleaded, half hoping the gods heard him.
Robb kissed Farren hard and hummed in pleasure as the peak rapidly approached. He wanted the north to know of the hunger only he knew for his wife. How perfect she would be. His thoughts ran rapidly with needs and desires, he wished and yearned for every man to know that the lovely Farren was his. He would make her his wife, and he wanted the gods to see her receive him as a lady would her Lord. The thought aroused his instincts. She panted his name, and he closed his eyes and cringed, gasping for breath, as he spilled his seed deep inside her, bliss raced through him like an ocean wave and left him gasping for air.
He rolled beside her, breathing as he cradled her in a protective embrace. He panted, feeling his heartbeat race, he realized he had never laid with a woman with such enthusiasm. She brought out his primitive drive, and the notion revealed by the moisture on his lip and the sweat dampened hair in swiping across his brow. Their breathing slowed, his exhaustion in league with hers. Robb clutched her tightly, as she caught her breath. Together they recovered, drenched in heat, then Robb turned the fur cloak over them both and curled up behind Farren, pressing his chest against her back. He wrapped Farren securely in his arms, keeping her safe. She hummed, rolling in his arms to face him, a soft smile gracing her lips. Robb smiled back at her, delight filling his heart to see that grin on her face, and he could not stop himself from kissing her forehead. When she closed her eyes, he finally rested, a content smile remaining on his face.
The Weirwood saw them both. Robb gazed up at the god tree and the red leaves above, the old Wierwood looked down, watchful. He recognized the old gods and as sleep began to take him. He knew in their sight the old gods declared that he was Farren's, and she was his, and nothing could divide them.
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Next Chapter Preview! -Farren faces those who have spent a night searching for her. She is unsure of how to proceed when her mother's Knight blames Robb for her disappearance. Holly greets Farren with many questions and disturbing news. Farren's relationship with Robb becomes threatened by a concerning subject her mother reveals.
Sending back some love
Thank you all you guys for reading, also special thanks all those who have acknowledged this fic with their comments, you are much appreciated, xXRosexScorpiusXx, Darkwolf76, xXRoweenaJAugustineXx, xxGreywind, ThePhantomismyLove, ZabuzasGirl, Frailfawn, SunSweet, PotterxBreifsxUchihaxKiryuu, Barry, all guest commenters, and writingNOOB! :D Thank you, readers, commenters, and followers. You guys make writing fanfiction worthwhile.
Many thanks to Darkwolf76, lent her time and talent to refine this chapter as well as provide counsel and encouragement. She is a true friend and patron of many Fanfiction stories!x XRoweenaJAugustineX x, has extraordinary talents as a beta reader/writer. Thank you! To anyone who does not know this author's stories are fanfiction classics!