The night was clear and the air bitingly crisp. Scores of Robb's bannermen, ladies, and soldiers stood in a circle around Riverrun's heart tree, many holding burning torches that hauntingly illuminated the castle's godswood. The King in the North stood alone before the heart tree, with only the Greatjon Umber at his side. The pain at the loss of his father was ever more present this night, the night he would be wed. In the absence of his father, he had asked the Greatjon, the most loyal of his northern lords and fearsome ally, to conduct the rites that would join him to his Queen.
Robb looked to his left where his family stood. Catelyn Stark looked on proudly, and with look of love only a mother could give to her child. Arya stood fidgeting next to Catelyn, a bundle of energy only barely able to contain herself. Jon stood behind Arya, hands on her shoulders, keeping her still. Robb's brother had been different since their meeting with Howland Reed. It had been like a weight that had been dragging him down his entire life had been lifted and Jon Stark had done away with the man who had been Jon Snow. Upon their return to Riverrun, Robb had held court and made the formal announcement of Jon's legitimization. Jon was well respected by most, and his new position was celebrated boisterously into the night. The move had offended his Mother, but he knew she would hold her tongue for the good of their family. Part of him wished he could tell his Mother the truth of Jon's heritage and ease her pain, but like his Father, he would keep the secret to his grave.
Suddenly an excitement of whispers overtook the crowd. Robb looked up to where a small gap had opened in the circle of onlookers. His breath was lost as he looked on at the vision before him…his Queen. Margaery had fully embraced the traditions of her new home. Her brown hair was braided simply and her dress was a deep grey, trimmed with lace of white and blue. She did bear one symbol of her house…a rose pendent affixed to a golden necklace that hung just above her breast. Robb looked adoringly into her eyes, and she gave him the half smile, half smirk, that was her way and that she knew drove him mad. He barely noticed as she finally made her way to just in front of him, her brother Garlan, standing at her side. Robb was shaken from the admiration of his bride as the Greatjon's booming voice echoed through the godswood.
"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" The Greatjon asked, voice more serious and formal then was normal for the Lord of Last Hearth.
Garlan Tyrell stepped forward to play his part. "Margaery, of the House Tyrell, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods." Garlan looked to Robb. "Who comes to claim her?"
Robb stepped forward, hand at his hip, comfortably resting on the pommel of his sword. "Robb, of House Stark, King in the North and of the Trident, and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"
"Garlan, of the House Tyrell, her brother."
"Lady Margaery, do you take this man?" the Greatjon continued.
"I take this man," she responded within a beat.
Robb stepped forward, taking his Margaery's hand. He smiled at her briefly, leading her before the heart tree. They kneeled in prayer, and Robb looked into the tree's face, beseeching the gods to look over them, over his family, his people. Eventually, he rose from his knees, leaving Margaery where she was. Robb turned and watched as Theon and Gendry approached, each with a bundle in their hands. Turning first to Theon, he grabbed the bundle and unfurled the grey Stark cloak. He walked to Margaery and gently placed the cloak over her shoulders, his fingers caressing her as he smoothed the fabric down.
Once more he stepped back, this time walking to the former blacksmith. Gendry pushed away the fabric in his hands, revealing a delicate crown. It was made of thin chords of bronze, gold, and steel, twined together, representing the joining of kingdoms, the North, the Riverlands, and the Reach. Robb took the crown and walked in front of Margaery this time. She looked up at him, lips slightly parted and her breathing quickened. He lifted the crown high, allowing their guests a glimpse, before bringing it down and resting it atop his wife's head. He reached down, seeking her delicate hand, which she eagerly placed in his own, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. They turned to each other, and Robb placed a hand on each side of her face, drawing her in for a deep kiss that sent pleasurable waves through his entire being.
"The Queen in the North!" The Greatjon bellowed, no longer restrained by ceremony, and soon there were enthused shouts from all around them.
The shouts continued, and Robb pulled back, seeing Margaery's face, bright with joy. "My Queen," Robb laughed. "You are now officially a Stark."
"I am," Margaery answered, reaching up to kiss him again. "Now, I believe we have a feast to attend."
"I'd rather feast on you," Robb whispered, drawing her closer, her body flush against his own.
"Later, my love," Margaery grinned. "I promise."
Pulling back from their hushed conversation, they were set upon by Catelyn Stark, who embraced her eldest son, kissing his cheek. "Congratulations, Robb," she said, before she turned to Margaery. Their initial meeting had been tense, with his mother's overprotectiveness seeking flaws or ulterior motives in Margaery, but as only Margaery was capable, she was quick to win Catelyn Stark's approval.
"Congratulations, your grace," Catelyn offered, embracing her daughter in law.
"Thank you, Lady Catelyn," Margaery stated. "I'm so glad that you and Arya were able to be here." Margaery reached over and placed a hand on Arya's shoulder, drawing her in for a brief embrace as well. Arya, much to Robb's surprise given her relationship with Sansa, had been quick to like Margaery. While Margaery was clearly a proper lady, she was quick to indulge Arya's more adventurous qualities, even going so far as to go to the training yard and practice with a bow. It just made Robb fall in love with her more.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Foregoing a traditional feast within the castle, it had been Margaery's idea to host a wedding celebration for everyone, including the soldiers and those who had been displaced by the war. Robb had agreed to the idea instantly, seeing it as a way to give back to those who had served and fought with him. Hundred of tables and tents had been erected all around Riverrun. Great bonfires lit up the night sky, and hundreds of cooks and attendants were doing their best to keep everyone fed, which given the number of mouths, was no easy feat. In lieu of gifts, Robb and Margaery had asked for their Lord's contribution to the celebration. Singers, mummers and performers of all kind roamed the party, keeping the people entertained.
Wine cup in hand, Robb looked on in great amusement as his new wife had cajoled a clearly uncomfortable Gendry into dancing with her. It pleased him greatly to see the people, the people he was now responsible for, having a moment to forget the trying days that were still surely ahead. His attention was drawn away from his bride as he saw Jon take the seat next to him.
"So, how does it feel?" Jon asked, pouring himself a generous cup of wine.
"Still sinking in, just like every other mad thing that's happened since we left Winterfell," Robb stated.
"Aye, but I'd say marriage to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms isn't much to lament over by comparison."
"True enough," Robb laughed, raising his cup. He took a swig, before a grin broke out on his face "Speaking of marriage…it would seem that there are many northern lords who have it in mind to marry off their daughters or nieces to the brother of the King."
"Bran and Rickon are a little young for that," Jon countered, purposefully looking away.
"Oh, but I have another brother," Robb grinned, "and he is very much an attractive prospect for a marriage. In fact I've already had five proposals. Lord Karstark was very eager to arrange a betrothal."
Jon looked ready to combust. "Robb, if you've betrothed me to Alys Karstark, then King or not, I'm going to drown you in the river."
"What's wrong with Alys Karstark?" Robb questioned. "From what I remember she was quite pretty."
"I'm sure she is, but I have no interest in being married at the moment."
Robb clapped Jon on the back, attempting to ease his sudden distress. "I'm not going to betroth you to Alys Karstark or any other woman, unless you ask it of me. I have no interest in using my title to force my family into marriages against their will…Arya would actually kill me. Anyway, we have other pressing concerns at the moment."
"What's on your mind?"
"The North…the Lannisters…we're just sitting here waiting for something to happen, and I don't like it. The worst of winter will be upon us soon, and we need to return home, see to our people and preparations. The Riverlands won't be able to sustain this army through winter."
"What choice do we have, other than to march on the capital?
"I have no interest in King's Landing, and I won't march our army there. The last thing I want is to get buried by winter snows in the middle of a siege," Robb said, rubbing a frustrated hand through his beard. "We need to be bold. We need to force the Lannister army north and do away with the threat of them for good."
"It would take a lot to get Tywin Lannister to abandon the capital and the King," Jon said.
Robb leaned in closer to his brother, assured that no one else could hear. "The Lannisters came into our home and defiled it. They threw Bran off a tower and crippled him for life. I say we return the favor. We're going to go to Casterly Rock…and we are going to hang the direwolf banner from each of its walls."
Jon looked back, eyes wide. "Robb, Casterly Rock is a fortress. It would be no simple thing to take the castle."
"At most times no," Robb conceded. "However, the bulk of the Lannister forces are south, and they cannot repel a siege from multiple fronts. We have the Redwyne Fleet, and I mean to put them to some use, rather than having them sit here, listing in the Bay."
"Robb, Casterly Rock's defenses have never been broken," Jon argued. "And there's a reason for that. It sits on an island of rock taller than the fucking Wall. The only way to get into the castle would be going through the main gate, and even if we managed to do that, they'd decimate our army first."
Robb looked briefly over to where Margaery was still enjoying herself. "Don't tell my wife this, but the last two nights I've spent in the maester's library pouring over every tome or scroll I could find on that castle. While it's true the only practical way in is through the main gate, there are numerous tunnels and mines running throughout the base of the rock. Some of them go so deep that it isn't practical to retrieve the gold by bringing it back to the surface, which means…"
"There's another point of access where they can offload the gold," Jon finished.
"Exactly," Robb smiled, pleased that his brother was following. "From what I can tell, there is a cavern on the north side of the rock that was used at some point to load gold into ships. It would be a treacherous endeavor for a larger ship to anchor there, but maybe a smaller boat with a small party of soldiers…"
"So we're going to send a dozen men into the cavern and hope that they can get into the main castle and sabotage the gate? That sounds like suicide to me."
"Aye, it's a risk, but what that's why I mean to draw the attention of the castle's defenders elsewhere… a three-pronged, delayed attack. The Redwyne Fleet would drop a small force to lay siege to the castle at Keyce, drawing reinforcement support away from Casterly Rock. The rest of the ships and army would continue south and take Lannisport. From there, under the cover the of the main attack, our small force would navigate around to the north side of the rock and enter the cavern to make there way up into the castle."
"It's certainly bold, I'll give you that," Jon stated. "Crazy…but bold. Just married, and already looking to get yourself killed."
"The worse thing that happens is we can't get into the castle and have to retreat back to the ships. They don't the have the men to pursue us. And it's not like you have much to worry on…you won't be coming with us."
"What?" Jon shouted, slamming down his drink. "Of course I'm coming!"
Robb placed a placating hand on his brother's arm, trying to diffuse any further outburst. He had been thinking on this ever since returning from the North. "I need you elsewhere, Jon. I'm sending you North to the Wall with a small host to reinforce Castle Black and meet with Lord Commander Mormont. We've received more ravens about the wildlings, and the news about Uncle Benjen was more than worrying. I need someone I trust there. You'll be my voice at the Wall, and your commands shall have the full authority of my crown behind them. I have no faith in Roose Bolton to maintain control over things."
Jon shook his head. "First you tell me not to go to the Wall when I want to go, and now you order me to go when I don't. I wish you would make up your damn mind."
Robb stood, offering a smirk. "Changing ones mind is one of the privileges of kingship, I'm afraid. We'll discuss more about the plans later. Now, I have to go see to my Wife."
"Hiding from my wrath behind her skirts, more like," Jon muttered, pouring himself another drink.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
While some of his bannerman had been set on seeing he and Margaery off with a traditional bedding ceremony, Robb had put a quick end to that notion…rather, Grey Wind and Ghost clearing their path back to their chambers in the castle had done the trick. Robb let his wife, who was still humming cheerfully to the sounds of the music outside, into their rooms first before barring the door behind them. He walked slowly over to a table, removing the cumbersome weight of his crown from his head and placing it down. Next, he removed his belt and sword, which he placed beside the crown.
Finally free of the heavy articles, he turned back around, and the glorious sight that met him caused him to freeze in place. By some obvious feat of womanly magic, Margaery had managed to remove every single stitch of clothing, and was now lounging alluringly nude on their bed, wearing only her rose pendent and crown. Her legs were crossed, teasingly hiding her center, but her arms were splayed wide from her body, leaving her perfect breasts bare to his eyes.
"Are you waiting for an invitation, husband, or shall I have to take care of myself on my wedding night?" Now her right hand moved from the bed, teasing a trail from her breast down to the apex of her thighs.
Robb, finally breaking from his lust-induced stupor, started walking forward. He ripped his tunic away from his body as if it was aflame, dropping it on the floor behind him. He only barely stopped to remove his boots, breeches and small clothes, before they were also left in his wake. Naked, he stopped at the foot of the bed giving his wife…his queen…one more admiring gaze before he crawled towards her, trailing feather-light kisses up her smooth legs as he went. Placing one lingering kiss above the trimmed hair between her thighs, he moved up again until he hovered over her form.
"I'll be damned if my wife has to take care of herself on her wedding night," Robb growled, palming her breast firmly as he did so. "I'll be seeing to my husbandly duty…many times."
Margaery smirked, and Robb felt a groan leave his lips her small hand wrapped around his rising member. "I have no doubt, my king."
Robb surged forward, his lips attacking Margaery's in a demanding kiss. The hand that had been attached to her breast trailed down, forcing her thighs apart. His wife writhed beneath him as the same hand caressed her lower lips, drawing out the essence of her excitement. Margaery's hand was still on him, and not wanting to spoil things too quickly, he moved her hand away. Repositioning himself between her thighs, he trailed his manhood along her slick center before he entered her in a swift stroke, pleasured moans leaving them both as he did so. He set a fevered pace, thrusting into her with such force that the crown on her head was thrown off to the side. He continued on for some time, only lasting long enough to feel his wife clench around him, before spilling inside her.
Taking deep breaths to refill his lungs, Robb rolled to his back, bringing Margaery so that she laid atop him. "That was fucking amazing," he sighed, truly content. "We should get married more often."
Margaery laughed, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. "I think we can manage just as well without the ceremony, Robb."
He kissed the top of her head. "If you say so."
They laid together, quietly, just enjoying the warmth from contact of their bodies. Eventually, Margaery pushed herself up so that she was sitting on top of his thighs. "I almost forgot. I have a wedding present for you," she stated, an excitement in her eyes.
Robb looked up at her, having not expected any sort of gift. "What would that be, love?"
"Well, I'm afraid that Jon may be your new heir for just a short time," Margaery stated. Seeing the confusion on his face, she grabbed his hand, placing the palm on her breast. His hand trailed down, over her pebbled nipple, past her thumping heart and down onto her stomach. Feeling a slight roundness to her stomach that he had failed to notice earlier, his breath caught as the truth of it hit him.
"Truly?" Robb asked, unable to stop a joyful laugh.
"Truly, King Robb," she answered, leaning down to capture his grinning lips again.