She and Robb sit at her Father's left, while Lord and Lady Stark sit at her mother's right. From her seat, she can see almost everyone in the room, eating and laughing. The closer to them, the more important they are. By the doors, the lesser Lords and Ladies sit. She thinks she knows people close to her, but she's be lying to herself if she said she knew all their names.

Between bites, several people approach them to give their congratulations. It was custom, and everyone that wished to speak to them had to do it now, before they were otherwise occupied.

Her Uncle Tyrion is one of the firsts.

"Niece," he says, bowing his head. "Lord Robb"

"Uncle!" She smiles, standing and reaching over the table to take his hand.

"I wish you true happiness, in the years to come," he tells her, patting her hand with his. His Lannister ring is warm against her fingers, familiar from her childhood. Her mother had hated every second, but her Uncle had once taken her hand, when she was maybe as tall as he was, maybe a little taller, and helped her walk through the Red Keep, pointing places and telling her everything he knew from them. She had thought her Uncle was the smartest man alive back then. A part of her still did.

"Thank you, Uncle," she answers, hearing the truth in his words.

"And the trick with the gods...clever." Her uncle winks. "Must have taken it from my side of the family." He kisses her hand, nodding once to Robb before turning around.

She laughs as she watches him walk away.

"He seems to care about you," Robb comments. She turns around, with a raised eyebrow. Of course, her Uncle cared about her, she was his family. And yet...

"My uncle...He has a soft spot for me, I guess."

She had once overheard him. Tyrion had a soft spot for cripples, bastards and broken things.

She knew very well where she fitted in there.

Her Uncle Renly approaches too, with Ser Loras Tyrell close behind.

She had met him before, when she spent time in Storm's End, but he had only been Renly's squire back then. There wasn't a big age gap between them, and she had seen how close they both had been. It was a bit odd seeing them together wherever they went, but then again, Ser Loras had to shadow her uncle Renly if he was his squire.

It had been weird, at first, the notion that her Uncle would never like whichever wife would be chosen for him. But then she had gotten to know Ser Loras better, and for all his flaws, he was not a bad person. Just a bit spoiled, but...well, between all of them, who wasn't?

And he was always kind to her and her Uncle. There was no way she could hate him if he was kind to them, not unless he did something awful that negated his kindness.

"Relle! Come here, niece," Renly calls for her. She gets up and walks around the table, coming to a stop before him.

He takes her in his arms, spinning her around, both laughing.

"Careful, Renly. Someone might get jealous," Loras calls, looking at the table for Robb.

Nonetheless, Robb is smiling at her.

For the whole time she had been at Winterfell, Robb hadn't seen her with her family. The closest thing was Lalia, but he could still see some respect from Lalia to Cerelle. Despite his wife's best intents—wife, wife, wife, he could not believe it, he was married to the princess, to Cerelle—Lalia still was her lady in waiting and, at least in front of others, not an equal. He wasn't sure about how close they were behind closed door—many things were different behind them—but to others, Cerelle was basically alone in Winterfell when she first came.

While Robb had seen how nice she was towards his three youngest siblings, it was a whole new thing to see her with her own.

Joffrey was not exactly nice. He had known that; Cerelle's silence regarding her eldest younger brother spoke more about him than anything else, but in the few days he had been sharing a home with him, Robb had realized just how spoiled he was. He knew nothing of sword fighting, he knew nothing of any fighting and had dared to insult him when he disarmed him with training swords. He sulked while he and Cerelle spared against each other, so different from young Tommen who cheered on his sister.

And that boy was sweet. Innocent, it had not taken long for Robb to see how much he was under Joffrey's thumb. One look and the youngest Baratheon grew silent, distant, almost, as he made himself as small as his chubby body would allow him. Grey Wind adored Tommen. The pup would wait by his side if he had to, happy to accept pats from the prince, his tail moving so fast it was little more than a grey blur and Tommen seemed almost comfortable beside him.

Robb would stand by his choice. Grey Wind was a great name.

Myrcella had thought so, but he wasn't sure just how reliable her opinion was. It wasn't a matter of trust at all, but he could notice how the princess had taken a liking to him, blushing a lovely shade of pink when he as much as looked at her. Robb was sure the girl was sweet, but his eyes had been set on her eldest sister for a long time now.

Because Cerelle was just...Cerelle. She was beautiful, with her light eyes and dark hair and a fury unlike any. Luckily, he was never on the receiving end of it, but he had seen it. Oh, he had seen her fury, when Theon became too much and Cerelle snapped, when guards looked at serving girls in a way that they did not ask. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he loved every second of it.

He sees her bid goodbye to Renly and comes sit by his side again.

"Hello, love," he says.

"Hello, darling," she answers, almost like a reflex. She freezes for a second when she notices what they've just done, how natural it was, before smiling at him. "Not an hour married and we're already calling each other love?"

"Why not?"

"Well, we haven't kissed yet," she says, placing her chin on her hand.

"I don't think that is the biggest worry," he says, knowing the bedding would be much more...intimate.

"Weddings in the North are so...different," she says, looking over the tables, eager to change the subject. Neither of them had really talked about it, and now she regrets it.

Back in the South, there would be not only music, but fools and actors, acrobats and different shows that left you breathless with wonder. All weddings were lavish affairs, and the wedding of the eldest princess would have been even more so. She couldn't even imagine what kind of feasts would be thrown when Joffrey married. It would last a week, probably. As it was, her wedding was northern, and she was more than fine with it. She had, after all, planned a good part of it.

Here in the North, there was only music and the guests dancing, and it was enchanting in its way, with the candlelight illuminating the guests in ways that bewitched her.

"Let's dance," she says, grabbing his hand. He smiles at her before standing.

"If you would do me the honor, my Princess wife," he bows his head.

" But of course, my Lord husband," she says as she stands and follows him towards the dance floor. "Even though we're not yet husband and wife."

"You know, you're the one who keeps bringing it up." He stops, turning towards her and placing his hands on her body. He has an amused smile on his face, and she relaxes when she realizes that, despite everything, their relationship has not changed that much.

"Shut up." She tries to hit him with the back of her hand on his shoulder, but he grabs it before she can. "What?" She raises an eyebrow "I'm sure it's not treason if I'm the princess."

Robb just smiles and brings her closer.

Suddenly, in the middle of them twirling around, she can hear cups hitting the tables. She sees the King walk up to the raised table and stand before it and knows exactly what will happen.

"I think it's time to hear the people! A wedding is not complete, until the bedding!" her father hollers, and the whole room stands in a flurry of activity.

Robb takes a step away from her as they are swarmed by people.

Wide eyed, she tries to catch the eyes of anyone that could help her. She feels hands grip her, tearing the sleeve of her dress. In a vain attempt, she tries to cling to it before the other one is also torn. She knew what was happening, but she never expected to be so intimidated by it, for it to be so…invasive. In the sea of people, she cannot distinguish faces, lost in the beards and wild hairs, and she feels like she's drowning. She feels like her heart stops the moment she feels a good tug that snaps the little black buttons that decorated the back of her dress.

"NOT THE SMALLCLOTHES!" She hears her king father yell. Trying to mask her fear, she turns around to see him standing, his hand gripping his cup of wine until his knuckles turn white, fury evident in his eyes. "You bastards will not undress your princess," he says slowly, looking at each lord around her.

Even the ladies undressing Robb stop and stare, everyone in the room staying silent, waiting to see what would happen. There is a tension that speaks volumes and reminds her why her father was a king. It had not been given to him because he was handsome, of that she was sure.

And then her Uncle broke the silence.

"Well, is it a bedding or not?" Renly asks, walking towards her and lifting her in his arms, easily throwing her over his shoulder like he did when she was a child and he was tasked with taking her to bed because almost no one else could find her in the big maze that was the Red Keep.

He's followed by the other Lords, and when they reach Robb's room, Renly gets inside alone with her.

"You'll be fine." He smiles, hands on her shoulders. "I saw the way that Stark boy looked at you. He won't hurt you." He kisses her forehead and leaves her alone, letting the door fall shut when he exited.

It's a few seconds later that she hears the giggling of women and she sees Robb enter, barefoot and bare-chested, his hair a mess of curls. He closes and locks the door behind him, and despite her nervousness, she feels relived that no one can get inside now.

"Hey," he says when he sees her standing there, arms crossed over her stomach. She's not cold, the flames on the fireplace doing their work in warming up the place.

"Hey," she answers, letting her arms fall and taking small steps until she's in front of him.

"So…" he starts, and his breath is warm against her face.

She decides against prolonging this anymore and takes his face into her hands, placing a hard kiss against his lips. He puts his own hands over hers, softening her press against him. His kiss is softer, warmer, and when he asks permission into her mouth, she grants it.

His hands sneak around her and rest on her back, making her take the half step that was needed for her to be flush with him. While it takes her a little by surprise when he toys with the edge of what she's wearing, she wills herself to relax.

After a while of kissing, she lets him help her so her smallclothes fall to the floor. A soon as they're gone and she's bare, she tries to kiss him so he'll be distracted from her body.

It doesn't work. He takes a step back anyway and looks at her.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, cupping her face. "You're gorgeous, Relle."

They fall together into his bed, now theirs, and she's a little shy as she helps him take his trousers off, the only thing they had left on him. When he touches, she has to bit her lip to avoid any sound from escaping because she's awfully aware of the people outside.

"Don't think of them," Robb says as he grabs her chin and makes sure she looks at his eyes. "It's just us," he whispers, kissing the space between her eyes, her nose and lastly her lips.

She gets lost on him, and she's sure no one can doubt they're man and wife after that. She thinks she hears her Uncles ushering people away, but she's too far gone to be sure.

The morning after, they hear knocking and the jiggle of the locked door.

"I'll go" Robb whispers against her hair, untangling himself from the mess of limbs they are. She makes sure she's covered with their furs as he puts on his breeches, taking a second to poke the fire and add another log before he answers the door.

It's Eline, hands full with the tray for their breakfast. Robb steps aside so she can leave it on the small table he has there, and Cerelle sits up so she can get a look at the food. Too nervous to eat much last night, she found herself famished.

"The kings says to take your time, and your Lord father says to come down for the next meal if you feel up to it, m'lord." Eline looks at Robb and then her before giving a small bow.

"Thank you, Eline," Robb says. Cerelle moves the pillow that's poking her back and clears her throat so Eline will look at her.

"Thank you. You don't need to come to dress me, Eline, take the day off. I'm sure you can meet up with the stable boy." She keeps the furs tight against her chest, and sees the way the woman's eyes light up.

"Really, Your Grace? Thank you so much, Your Grace!" Eline bows her head, hands clasped together.

"It's nothing. Go, now, before he gets too busy." Cerelle smiles, watching as Robb sits on his table and grabs a piece of bread.

"Yes, Your Grace!" Eline offers her last courtesy and leaves, closing the door behind her.

"Stable boy? I didn't realize you were so close to her."

"If I want to keep her respect, I need to make an effort, of course. And she's lovely, really, it's not a great chore." She smiles as Robbs comes up to her, bare-chested and with his breeches hanging low on his hips.

"Who would have thought my wife was such a wonderful person," he says, laying down on her lap and looking up to her. She runs her fingers through his auburn curls, caressing his cheek on its way down.

"Shut up." She laughs, pushing his head away. He laughs too, sitting up and slipping under the covers with her.

"Do you feel okay?" he asks, no traces of laugh left on his face.

"A little sore, but otherwise okay," she answers, moving her legs a little and hissing at the small burning sensation between her legs.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, and she takes his hand on hers, interlacing their fingers and squeezing as hard as she can.

"Hey, no, none of that. Any other man and I would be worse" And she knows this, like water is wet and the sun rises in the east. She knows this from horror stories passed down like lessons, from the factual voice her Septa used when she talked about consummation and the importance of satisfying her husband, no talks of female pleasure to be found.

And Robb looks at her, soft and sweet, and she hasn't felt safer.