Read. Enjoy. Review. (The reading and enjoying is for you ... the reviews are for me.)
I own Lenora Baratheon, nothing more.

My name is Chloe Jane and I suck at sex scenes.

Chapter Eighteen: A Wolf in her Bed

Sansa

She took special care when she dressed that morning. She would be up on the steps of the Sept of Baelor with the Queen, Joffrey, and her father. The entire city would be watching her. Her dress was a pale blue, a color she had worn many times in Winterfell, her mother's color. But the dress was a southern style: thin fabric, flared sleeves, the neck a slightly plunging v. It was the first dress she had had made when they arrived in King's Landing.

It looked exactly like one that Lenora had worn when she first arrived at Winterfell. When the Queen had first seen the dress she had smiled softly and told Sansa that she looked just like her daughter. Sansa had taken that as a good sign, there was a reason she had chosen this dress to wear.

Lenora was one of the few of the royal family who stood up to Joffrey, who told him when he was being a fool. She hoped that she looked like Lenora. There was no love lost between the two, but, she hoped, that by looking like his sister she would remind Joffrey that Lenora was currently marching south with Robb. That she was being treated well, now, but that she might not be so well treated if anything happened to Robb's father.

The bells of the Great Sept were ringing as they waited for the citizens of King's Landing to arrive. It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny and warm. It was a day for good things. No harm could come to her father on a day like this, she was sure of it.

The people of King's Landing quickly arrived, packing into the Street of the Sisters, standing shoulder to shoulder. And yelling angrily as the guards led Ned toward where the royal party stood. Sansa watched them with wide eyes, her father had been the best Hand King's Landing had ever seen, she could not understand why they were acting out against him now. But when her father passed her, her eyes softened, she might never see her father again, but he would live. Joffrey had promised her that he would live.

He was dressed in a rich, grey velvet doublet with a white direwolf stitched on the chest. He looked so handsome, though he was thinner than she remembered. His face was drawn in pain. Once the bells overhead ceased ringing the people quieted down and her father began to speak. He was in so much pain, his voice was so quiet and thin that even Sansa could not hear him.

"What?" someone from the crowd before them shouted.

"Speak louder!" came the command from another.

"I can't understand!" came a third cry.

Her father swallowed, lifting his head and started again, this time louder. "I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King." This time his voice carried across the plaza in front of the sept, and no one could say that they could not hear him. "And I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men."

The crowd began to shout at her father, loud obscene things. Sansa hid her face in her hands, embarrassed for her father. But she knew that he had to endure this. Joffrey had made his bargain clear. Her father would have to confess his treason against the King and the realm. And then once he had done that Joffrey would be merciful and allow him to join the Night's Watch. He would go to the Wall and take the black. He would join Jon and Uncle Benjen.

Her father spoke even louder now, straining to be heard over the noise of the crowd, "I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert," he shouted. "I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold I plotted to depose and murder his don and to seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what say: Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

This wasn't true, of course, Sansa knew it. Her father would never have tried to kill Joffrey, not when he knew how she loved him. He had done something bad, but it could not have been that. He was King Robert's friend and would never have tried to murder his son. But he had to say it, he was saying what they wanted to hear, what they needed him to say in order to send him away. Any moment now Joffrey would step forward and grant her father mercy.

A stone flew out of the crowd, Sansa did not know from where, but its aim was true. She turned to see it hit her father's head, he would have flown back if two of the King's Guard were not holding him up. Tears filled her eyes as she saw blood begin to run down his face from a deep gash near his hairline.

As the Septon walked forward Sansa wondered if she would be allowed to say goodbye to her father before he was taken to the Wall, or if this sight, would be the last she would ever have of him. The Septon bowed before Joffrey, "As we sin, so do we suffer," he told the King, his voice so much louder than her father's had been. "This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of Gods and men, here in this holy place," he lifted his hands to the King. "The Gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

She bit her lips to keep from smiling, she did not want to give away the game. No one, but she, the King, and the small council knew that Joffrey intended to grant her father mercy. It was to be a surprise. But her father had confessed his treason, he had named Joffrey the one true king. Now all that was left was for Joffrey to keep his word and be merciful. She knew he would be, he loved her after all. He would not kill her father.

The crowd was screaming at Joffrey to kill him, they were bloodthirsty, but her sweet King was not. He would be just and kind. He stepped out, away from his mother and the King's Guard. "My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black," he informed the crowd, many of them quieting to hear him speak. He turned to smile softly and Sansa and she smiled back, giving him her encouragement. "And Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father."

The crowd started yelling again, angry that it seemed that Joffrey was not going to heed their bloodlust. But Sansa felt no fear, he was smiling at her, Joffrey would keep his word. He had to.

Joffrey was still smiling as he turned back to the crowd, "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head."

The crowd roared its approval, but up on the steps of the Sept it was chaos.

The High Septon clutched at Joffrey's cape, trying to help him see reason. Varys the Spider rushed forward, waving his hands, shouting about mercy. Even Queen Cersei grabbed on to the King's sleeve, whispering something urgently in her son's ear. But Joffrey did not listen, he did not heed their pleas. He shook his head, grinning, as Ser Ilyn Payne moved toward Ned, his sword glinting in the sunshine.

Sansa screamed, tears coming to her eyes as she surged forward. She hoped to get to the King, to remind him that he had promised mercy. She hoped to get to Ilyn Payne, to grab his sword and throw it into the crowd so that he would not be able to use it against her father. She hoped to get to her father, to wrap her arms around his shoulders and to apologize to him for whatever part she had played.

But she got nowhere. One of the King's Guard grabbed her around the waist, keeping her in place. She cried, begging the knight to let her go, but he held strong.

She cried as her father's two guards shoved him down to his knees, holding him in place.

She cried as Ilyn Payne moved closer to him, drawing a two-handed great sword from the scabbard on his back.

She cried when she saw the sunlight rippling and dancing down the dark metal.

She cried when she realized that he had Ice. Her father was going to be beheaded with his own sword.

She screamed, loud and unending as the King's Justice lifted the sword high above his head and brought it down, quickly and cleanly separating her father's head from his neck.

The crowd was still yelling, still cheering, though Sansa could not hear it. She sank to her knees, staring ahead.

All she heard was the sound Ice had made as it sliced through the air.

All she saw was her father's body slumped on the steps of the Great Sept, his blood staining the white direwolf on his chest red.

All she felt was the sudden emptiness in her chest when she realized that Joffrey had never intended to grant her father mercy.

This had always been his plan.

-.-.-.-.-

Lenora

She was waiting for him in their tent. He didn't know that she was there, she meant to surprise him. He was dining with his bannermen, planning their next move. He wouldn't tell her what it was and she did not blame him. None of his bannermen seemed to mind him marrying her, but she knew that it made them uncomfortable when Robb discussed his battle plans with her. Not that she could see why, she wasn't allowed to send ravens. She wasn't allowed to speak to any of the prisoners that they meant to send back to her grandfather. She was only allowed to speak to Jaime, and he was about as likely to make it out of the camp as she was.

But she did not fight it. Like it or not, she was married to him now, her wagon was tied to his as her father would have said. She looked around the tent, it was hers now, she realized. She had spent every night of the last two weeks in the tent. And Robb had been the perfect gentleman for each of those fourteen nights. He had not forced himself on her. He had given her the bed and had slept, rather uncomfortably she assumed, in one of the chairs by the fire.

She had not kept her word to her uncle. She had promised him that she and Robb would consummate the marriage at the end of the first week, but every time she had thought of trying she talked herself out of it. There had once been a time when she would have gladly made love to Robb Stark, but that time was long gone now.

As much as Jaime had told her not to listen to her mother's advice, Lenora wished that Cersei were with her now. Her mother would have known what to do, what to say to make it all make sense to her.

She sat down in a chair by the fire and closed her eyes, imagining herself for a moment back in King's Landing with her mother. She could still remember the first time her moon blood had come and how her mother had brought her for a walk in the gardens to teach her exactly what that meant. She had been blunt, as was Cersei's way, but almost gentle about it.

She had warned Lenora against falling in love. She had told her daughter that now that she had bled negotiations would begin in earnest for her betrothal to Robb Stark, but that she must not believe herself in love with the young man, no matter how handsome or earnest he seemed. She told the young princess that sex was not an expression of feelings, but rather a weapon. One she must use to her advantage.

Lenora laughed bitterly at that as she stood up from her chair in Robb's tent. If only her mother had explained to her how to use it to her advantage, because she was at a loss. Jaime had told her that she needed to consummate the marriage. Her mother told her that she needed to use sex to her advantage. If she couldn't love Robb she needed to do as her mother told her. But she didn't know how. It wasn't as though having sex with the man would make him want to free her and send her home. It wouldn't stop the war. Or free her uncle. It would do her no good.

She moved around the tent, pausing at his desk. He had a stack of parchment on his desk, letters that had been sent to many of the castles they had stayed at on their march. He never let her read them. Some, he read to her, though she was sure the he didn't read her everything. Some he hid from her. She looked toward the entrance of the tent. The flaps were closed to keep out the cool air and she could still hear the sounds of him and his bannermen eating, it would be a while before he came back to their tent.

She looked back at the pile of letters on the desk and made a quick decision. She grabbed them and quickly walked back to her seat by the fire, flipping though them quickly, scanning for any interesting information. Most of them were old - reports of her grandfather or uncle's troop movements. There was the letter from Sansa beckoning him to King's Landing. The announcement that Joff had been made King of the Seven Kingdoms and that Ned Stark had been arrested for treason. She was about to bring them back to the desk when she noticed the one at the bottom of the stack.

It was written in her uncle Stannis' hand. It mentioned her. Robb had never told her that he had received word from her uncle. She quickly leaned closer to the letter so that she could read it.

All men know me for the trueborn son of Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, by his lady wife Cassana of House Estermont. I declare upon the honor of my House that my beloved brother Robert, our late king, left but one trueborn issue of his body, the Princess Lenora. The boy Joffrey, the boy Tommen, and the girl Myrcella being abominations born of incest between Queen Cersei Lannister and her brother Ser Jaime, called Kingslayer.
As King Robert's one trueborn child is a girl and unfit to rule, by right of birth and blood, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Let all true men declare their loyalty.
Done in the Light of the Lord, under the sign and seal of Stannis of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

At the first reading the only thing that stuck was the odd ending to the letter, her uncle Stannis had never been the religious type, but he had grown up worshiping the Seven. She had heard stories of the red priests and priestesses that worshiped who they called the Lord of Light, but she hadn't realized that her uncle was one of them.

She read the letter again, sure that she had missed something important.

Upon the second reading it hit her that her uncle had proclaimed himself King. She shook her head, Robb marching against Joffrey was treasonous enough, but to name himself King over his nephew - men had lost their heads for much less than that.

She was moving back toward the desk, to put letters back when she realized that something was still wrong. Her uncle Stannis was one of the most honorable men she knew, he was cut from the same cloth as Ned Stark. He would never do anything this treasonous. Neither would Ned, she realized, thinking about the man who was probably still imprisoned in the black cells under the Red Keep. These two honorable men would never do anything treasonous without reason.

She read the letter a third time.

left but one trueborn issue of his body, the Princess Lenora ... she shook her head, that wasn't true, she had three siblings.

She looked up from the letter and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror that stood against one of the walls of the tent. She moved closer to the mirror, taking in her wild dark hair, her stormy grey eyes, her jaw line - all traits she had gotten from her father. She looked like a Baratheon. But there were hints of her mother: the cheekbones that Cersei was so proud of, she was graceful and poised in a way her father had never been, slender.

She looked so different from her other siblings. With their blonde hair and their green eyes - lions all the way.

Because she was still standing in front of the mirror, still staring at her reflection Lenora had the rare chance to watch her own eyes widen as she realized something. Her three younger siblings looked nothing like her. The Stark children each favored one parent more than the other, but she could see a bit of each in all five and when they stood next to each other they looked alike. There was no Baratheon looks to her three younger siblings and if lined up - Joff, Myrcella, and Tommen would look alike. Lenora with her Baratheon hair and eyes stood out from the pack.

A stag among a bunch of little lions.

She glanced back down at the letter in her hand, her eyes scanning it one last time.

abominations born of incest between Queen Cersei Lannister and her brother Ser Jaime, called Kingslayer.

She shook her head, more from disgust than trying to deny it. Now that she was reading the words, now that she was picturing her siblings standing in a row. There was no way to deny it. No way to argue. Her three younger siblings were not her father's children.

She moved in a daze.

She must have put the letters down on the desk because they weren't in her hands when she left the tent.

She must have asked Ser Willum to give her some space because as she moved through the camp she felt him like a shadow, but when she looked over her shoulder he was several yards behind her.

She must have known where she wanted to go because when her feet finally stopped moving she didn't feel surprised to find herself in front of Jaime's cage, though she could not remember making the decision to go see him.

Her uncle looked up at her and a smile started to spread across his lips, but as he looked at her, his green eyes scanning her face the smile faded quickly. "You know," he told her, his voice quiet. It wasn't a question, her face must have already told him the answer.

Lenora looked at her uncle's face and saw her brother Joffrey's. The boy was a spoiled prick, but he had always been a handsome one. Just like his uncle. Lenora shook her head, that was wrong, "Just like his father," she murmured, her eyes never leaving her uncle's face.

Jaime had the grace to look down, as if ashamed, but Lenora wondered if it was just an act. How ashamed could her uncle really be? This wasn't an accident. It hadn't happened once. He had slept with her mother enough times that they had three children together.

He had slept with his sister enough times that they had three children together.

She stepped back from the cage, disgusted. Her hands flying up to cover her mouth as she felt bile rising in her throat. She was going to be sick.

"Len!" she heard her uncle call out to her. She shook her head, the sound of his voice was enough to have her stomach contract violently. She moved further away from his cage, determined that he and his guards would not see her retch. Once far enough away she sank down to the ground, not caring about getting dirt or mud on her dress. She fell to her hands and knees, her stomach contracting again, her throat burning as she swallowed, trying to force the bile back down, trying one final time to keep from trowing up.

"My Lady?" she heard Ser Willum call from close behind her.

She shook her head, trying to find a way to order him back, but she couldn't open her mouth. The knight moved closer to her and knelt on the ground beside her. She felt his hands in her hair and for a moment she was afraid before she realized that the young knight was only holding it away from her face. "It's all right, My Lady," he told her, his voice gentle. "There's no use holding it in now. Go on, I'm sure that I have seen worse on the tourney field."

That was all she needed, his permission. Her stomach heaved again and this time without her hands covering her mouth she retched on the ground in front of her. Her eyes watered at the feeling of the acid working its way up her throat. She stayed, on all fours on the ground, breathing out of her mouth so that she wouldn't smell her vomit, waiting for more to come up. But it seemed that she had expelled all she had in her in that one.

Ser Willum knelt beside her, trying to soothe her, but after a minute or two of her dry heaving he must have realized that she had nothing left. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod and reach into his cloak, withdrawing a handkerchief for her. "There you go, My Lady," he told her as he stood up. He let her wipe her face before he held out his hand to her and pulled her off the ground. "Shall I escort you back to your tent now?" he asked her, his voice still gentle.

Lenora shook her head, as much as he disgusted her she wasn't done with her uncle yet.

The knight followed her gaze back to the cage and he nodded, "I shall find someone to bring you water then," he told her before he walked away briskly.

Lenora stayed where she was for a moment longer, steeling herself before she walked back to her uncle. He watched her, concern darkening his green eyes, but at least he knew better than to speak, she wouldn't have been able to handle it if he did.

She watched him for almost a minute before she spoke. "How did he not know?" she finally asked. "I was blind to it, but how could he be? He saw us all. He saw the two of you. How did he not see that only one of the four was his?"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders, "He didn't care to see it," he offered.

Lenora closed her eyes and shook her head, her questions had been a mistake. "Don't," she ordered. "Don't you talk about him. I can't bear it." She opened her eyes again, but they were narrowed. "How could you?" she asked him, her voice as much of an accusation as her words. "My mother - she is your sister. How could you?"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders and his gaze dropped down to the mud in front of him. At least he was ashamed. "She is my twin," he told her as if that explained everything. "You would never understand. But we are two, and one. We were made together, we were born together. She had me convinced that no one but I was her equal, her match. Two pieces, one whole."

His answers were disjointed, as if now that he was forced to say them he was realizing just how wrong they were. They were excuses, not answers. She shook her head silently, they weren't enough.

He tried again. "The Targaryens married brother and sister for generations."

She actually laughed at that one, "And look at how that turned out for them," she bit out. "The last Targaryen King was mad. As you well know."

Jaime was quiet for a moment. "We stopped after Tommen," he told her. "I have not touched your mother since she became pregnant with Tommen. I wanted to stop earlier, I wanted to stop after you were born, but your mother would not sleep with your father, she would not bear him any children, and -"

Lenora shook her head, her eyes closed again, she could not hear any more of it. "And the realm needed an heir?" she interrupted, her voice bitter. "Is that your excuse? You didn't want to, but you had to fuck your sister because the realm needed an heir? You were just doing your duty? Your fucking duty?" She shook her head again, "Stannis knows," she told him. "He sent a letter to all the great Houses, by now even some of the small folk must have heard the whispers. What shall Joff call you if you ever make it back to King's Landing? Uncle? Father? Maybe both?"

She was being cruel, but she couldn't hold it in. She had grown up looking up to her uncle, always believing the best in him, but now he disgusted her. Her uncle looked up at her sharply, "Stannis knows?" he asked.

Lenora nodded as something struck her. "That is why Ned Stark proclaimed that Joff was not the true king," she whispered quietly. "He learned the truth and to save her own skin Mother had him named a traitor and thrown in a black cell for it." She looked to her uncle for confirmation, not that she truly needed it.

"I was not there for that decision," Jaime told her, "but I would make that assumption as well."

"And Jon Arryn?" Lenora asked, quickly jumping to another conclusion. "Is that how Jon Arryn died? Not sick, but poisoned because he learned the truth?" Jaime didn't even get to begin to nod before Lenora realized something else. "You didn't go on the hunt," she whispered, shaking her head as if she could deny the words she was speaking. She gasped, "What happened to Bran?" she asked her uncle, moving closer to his cage and wrapping one of her hands around the cold metal, as if it would keep her grounded. "The day he fell? What happened to him?"

Jaime wouldn't meet her eyes. That was how she knew the answer. He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she needed to hear it from him. "What happened to Bran, Uncle Jaime?" she asked him, her voice hard. "He had been climbing that tower for years. He had never fallen before. What did you do to him? Did you push him?"

Jaime looked up at her sharply, she had guessed it. "He heard your mother and I talking about it," he told her as if that excused his behavior. "We couldn't have him telling anyone."

"He's a child!" Lenora cut in. "Younger than Joff. You could have scared him into silence." She shook her head, she was too disgusted. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at her uncle, "You have never disappointed me, Uncle Jaime," she told him, her voice cold. "Not until now. Disappointed isn't even the word for it. You disgust me. You, the man who raised me - the man I have always looked up to, I can't even look at you." She sighed, feeling tears fill her eyes as she looked away from him. "You are nothing to me now," she told him. "Nothing."

-.-.-.-.-

Robb

He returned to the tent late that night. He had no reason to hurry back from his men. What was he hurrying back to after all? Another night sleeping uncomfortably in a chair because he had given Lenora the bed? Because he had given her his word that he would never force himself on her? He had forced her into a marriage that she didn't want, the last thing he would do was force her into sleeping with him. But Gods it was hard.

She was a beautiful woman, Robb would never deny that. And she was intoxicating. Her mind and tongue were as sharp as swords, she knew how to keep him on his toes. She was wild and bright. And she knew how to kiss. Gods know she knew how to do that. They had kissed at their wedding in the woods, or rather Robb had kissed her. Lenora hadn't kissed him since they were at Winterfell. And it was hard for him, to be around her now, staring at those red lips of hers and knowing that she wouldn't kiss him again.

So he stayed away from her. The Greatjon had joked just that evening that Robb was spending too much time away from his young bride. Robb had smiled and made some excuse, anything but explain the truth - that his young bride was disgusted by him. He didn't even talk about it with Theon, he knew what his friend would tell him to do: force himself on her. Theon saw things in black and white. Lenora was his wife. As his wife she had a duty. Theon wouldn't haven given her a choice. None of them would have.

There were times when he wanted to tell her how lucky she was that he had married her. If she knew about her brothers and sister, if she knew about her mother and her uncle then she would understand. Every great house in the Seven Kingdoms would want her for their own. They would not be as gentle as he was. They would have her wedded and bedded a thousand times against her will if it meant that they could claim King Robert's only trueborn child as their own.

But not Robb. He had married her because he loved her. He had married her to keep her safe. He had married her so that she wouldn't play the pawn to everyone else's game. And if the price of keeping her safe meant never having her in his bed? It was a price that he would pay.

But Gods, she was tempting. So he stayed away. It was easier to resist her charms and her beauty if he left the tent before she woke up and came back after she had fallen asleep. It was easier to resist his urges if the only time he saw her was when they were surrounded by his bannermen and his mother.

It was long past dark when he finally entered their tent. He expected to find her sleeping as he had every night since their wedding night, but she was still awake. She was sitting in the chair he used for his bed, reading a book by the firelight. She looked up at him when he walked into the tent and a soft smile found its way onto her lips. He tried to remember the last time she had smiled at him when no one was around, but he couldn't. Since leaving Winterfell all of her sweetness had been saved for when they had an audience.

She closed the book and reached out for a goblet of wine that he hadn't noticed on the table beside the chair. He didn't know how much wine was in the goblet, but she drank it all in one long pull before she stood up from the chair and moved closer to him. "I expected you hours ago," she whispered.

Robb laughed at that, a dark chuckle as he moved around her to pick up her goblet and pour some wine for himself. "I didn't realize that you expected me at all, My Lady," he told her, his voice darker and more bitter than he had intended.

She sighed, her grey eyes uncertain as she watched him. Her left arm was crossed in front of her chest, she lifted her right to chew on her thumbnail, a habit he had long noticed that showed that she was nervous. He turned to look at her and raised his eyebrows, silently waiting for her to tell him why she was nervous. She sighed again and shook her head, "It's not easy, you know."

"What's not easy?" he asked her, honestly curious.

Lenora shook her head, still chewing on her thumbnail. Robb moved closer to her, quickly, she seemed shocked when she realized that he was standing right in front of her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from her mouth. "What's not easy?" he asked her again, demanding an answer this time.

She sighed, looking away from him. "I've been trying to catch you alone since our wedding," she told him, her grey eyes darting to look at him for a moment before she looked away again. "But you've been avoiding me. You tell me that you love me and then when I say that I don't love you back you avoid me like a plague."

"I think you told me that you couldn't love me," Robb corrected her.

"And I never will if we never spend any time together," Lenora argued.

"You made it perfectly clear on our wedding night that you did not want to spend time with me," Robb told her.

She shook her head, "I'm trying," she told him.

"Trying to do what?" Robb asked her, moving to stand directly in front of her. "What are you trying to do, Nora?"

Lenora stared up at him for a moment, she bit her lip and sighed. For a moment he thought she was going to walk away from him, to tell him to forget it. But then, without any warning, the girl rocked up on her tiptoes, her hands on his shoulders and her lips landed on his. He was so surprised he didn't kiss her back. Her lips moved against his for a moment or two before she realized that she wasn't going to get anything from him. He felt her sigh, he felt her give up. She pulled away from him and took a step back. "I'm sorry," she told him, shaking her head, "I'm sorry."

She turned to walk away from him. Robb moved fast, his hand flying out to catch her arm. "Come here," he almost growled as he pulled her closer to him. She spun, her hands landing on his chest to steady herself, her head tilted up to ask him why he wanted her to stay. Before she could get a word out Robb lowered his lips down on hers, kissing the girl properly.

She kissed him back, almost hungry. This was not one of her shy kisses from Winterfell where she was unsure of herself. She may still have been nervous, she may still have been convinced that she did not know what she was doing. But she wasn't going to let it stop her this time. Her lips moved against his, desperate. And when his tongue slipped out to lick her lips she opened them readily, allowing him in her mouth, chasing at the last taste of wine on her tongue.

His hands fell to her hips and he squeezed the bones through her dress, moaning as the action caused her to arch her back, pressing her chest against his. It was embarrassing, he realized, how easy it was for her to draw a reaction from him. But he wasn't going to stop or slow down. He didn't know why she was kissing him, but he wouldn't question it until she was done.

Her hands flexed against his chest, he could feel her nails through his shirt. He wanted more of her, but he had promised that he wouldn't force himself on her. If she wanted more then she would have to tell him. He was hers to command.

She bit his lip, a playful nip and Robb was surprised when he heard a giggle escape her lips. He pulled away slightly, looking at her. She was smiling, though her eyes were still a stormy grey. "What?" she asked him, a pink blush coloring her cheeks.

"I was just making sure that it was my wife I was kissing and not one of Theon's whores," Robb told her, smirking when the blush on her cheeks darkened from pink to red.

"One of Theon's whores?" Lenora asked, giggling again. "I should punish you for that, I really should." Her hands were still on his chest and one of them closed into a fist, clutching at his shirt. She used this grip to pull him closer to her, crashing his lips down on hers and kissing him again.

"Is this your idea of punishment?" Robb asked her, leaving his lips where they were, brushing against hers with every word, Lenora's lips mirrored his movements. He pulled away for just a moment before he brought his lips down onto her jawbone. He kissed his way up to just below her ear and then started to make his way down her neck, kissing and biting down to the collar of her dress. "Because this is exactly how you should punish me every time I displease you," he whispered against her skin, smiling when he felt goosebumps rise on her neck under his lips.

Lenora shook her head, though she didn't push him away from her, "This isn't a punishment," she whispered. "I said that I should punish you, not that I would."

"And why won't you?" Robb asked, his voice low and full of need. He wouldn't let himself hope, not until she gave him more of a reason to.

"Because I want you," Lenora whispered, her voice echoing the same need that he felt, but there was something else coloring her tone as well, something that Robb couldn't put his finger on. Before he could ask Lenora had slipped her hand underneath his chin and lifted his lips back to hers, kissing him deep and slow. "Gods know how much I want you," she whispered. "But I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, "help me."

Robb chuckled at that, "Believe me, Nora," he whispered against her lips as his hands went to the back of her dress, sliding down to the laces, "you know exactly what you are doing."

He kissed her again, his hands working at the laces of her dress. Lenora's hands slid down from his face and instead of fisting in his shirt again they slid underneath his shirt. Her hands were shaking, he realized, as they landed on his stomach. He nibbled on her lip to keep from laughing as her fingers traced over the muscles on his stomach, a barely there touch that tickled as she moved. Her hands kept sliding up his chest, bringing the hem of his shirt with them. He was finally obliged to stop unlacing her dress so that he could lift his arms above his head, breaking their kiss just long enough to allow her to take his shirt off before he lowered his lips to hers again.

Her breath was ragged as she dropped his shirt to the floor. Her kiss bruising against his lips as his hands went back to her laces and continued their work untying her dress. At one point she had giggled and offered to go get her lady's maid, she claimed that the girl could untie her much faster than that. Robb had growled at that and spun her around in his arms, his lips landing on her neck as he continued with her laces, the job easier now that he could keep at least one eye on his work.

He wasn't the only desperate one. As soon as her dress was unlaced Lenora had pulled it off of her. Robb readied himself for the laces on her corset, but was surprised when he realized she wasn't wearing one. She smiled at him, almost slyly as she turned back around in his arms, wearing nothing but her chemise and her small clothes. Her hands shook even more as they lowered to his waist and the laces that held his pants on his hips.

There was nothing more Robb wanted to do but to finish undressing and to get into bed with the girl, but he stopped himself. "Nora?" he asked her, waiting until the dark haired girl looked up at him to show that she was listening. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked her.

She studied him for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before she nodded. "I'm sure," was her whispered answer as she nodded.

Robb nodded too before he quickly kicked off his boots and scooped up the tiny princess, carrying her to their bed where they finished undressing quickly.

"Gods, but you're beautiful," he whispered to her, looking down at her. He was kneeling on the bed, staring down at her. Her face was tanned from the sun and all the time she spent outside now, but the rest of her body was as pale and smooth as cream. She was breathing fast, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath. She was blushing as he looked at her, the blush spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest. Robb smiled and crawled on top of her, once more kissing his way down her neck. He bit down just above her pulse point, marking her skin and smiling slightly as she moaned beneath him.

Then he kissed lower, his tongue dipping into the hollow between her two collar bones. He kissed along the right collarbone, biting down gently on her shoulder. Lenora moaned louder this time as her right leg lifted instinctively and wrapped around Robb's hip. She looked surprised and started to move her leg, but Robb's hand shot back and he grabbed the back of her thigh, keeping her leg where it was. She nodded and her hands went to his hair, running her fingers through it as Robb continued kissing her. He moved to the left shoulder, this time kissing in toward the center. Then he worked his way down, kissing and licking the narrow space between her breasts. Her fingers left his hair and began to stroke his back, her nails digging into his skin.

She gasped beneath him and her hips rocked up against him on their own accord when he licked at the skin on the underside of her right breast. And he smiled. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice a breathy whisper as he lifted his lips to her nipple, biting down gently, teasing her.

He waited until he moved on, repeating the attention to her left breast before he allowed one of his hands to slide down her flat stomach to rest between her legs. She gasped and he waited, sure that she was going to tell him to stop, but instead her other leg came up to wrap around him, making things easier on him. He would have teased her about how this could not be the first time she had been with a man, but he didn't want to embarrass her.

He was too worried that if he teased too much she would stop him.

And the last thing he wanted to do was stop.

She tensed when he inserted one of his fingers into her. He stilled, not wanting to hurt her, but so desperately needing to open her up so that he could be inside of her. She was wet around his finger, wet and oh so tight. He could just imagine what she would feel like around him, but he wouldn't be able to experience it if he rushed her.

So he waited.

After a moment he felt her begin to relax around his finger.

After another moment she nodded, giving him the silent go ahead to continue.

He lifted his lips back to hers and kissed her deep and slow as he began to slowly move his finger in and out of her. It did not take her long before she demanded, "More," in a soft, breathy whisper. He was only too happy to comply as he added a second finger, this time scissoring his fingers as he worked them in and out, stretching her just a bit.

After a few minutes he stopped, he kept his fingers inside of her as he pulled away from her lips, looking down at her. "Are you sure?" he asked her one final time. She nodded, her eyes closed and a soft smile resting on her lips as if she was complete bliss. Robb shook his head although she couldn't see it. "I need to hear you say it, Nora," he told her, though he was desperate for her and could feel his self-control slipping with every second he waited. He wasn't going to last long once he was inside her, that much he knew. "Are you certain?"

She opened her eyes, the stormy grey clouded with desire, "I am certain," she whispered, lifting her head off the pillow to kiss him again. Robb nodded as he kissed her and pulled his hand out of her, reaching down to position himself instead. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her lips as he pushed himself inside of her. He closed his eyes, he himself flinching when he felt her tense up around him, she cried out in pain, turning her head away from him so that she could muffle her cry with one of the pillows.

He braced himself with his hands on either side of her, keeping his chest off of hers so that he wouldn't crush her. "Are you all right?" he asked her, his teeth gritted against the desire to roll his hips, to move. He would not do more until she told him she was ready, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

Her eyes were squeezed tight and a tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, Robb bent down to kiss the tear before it could slide down her cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, "I know this hurts, I'm sorry."

She nodded and slowly opened her eyes, one at a time, looking up at him, taking in the hard set of his jaw, the way his teeth clenched. "Oh," she sighed out, "you're in pain too." Her hand lifted to his cheek, trying to comfort him.

Robb chuckled and ducked his head again, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "A different kind of pain, Love, I assure you."

She nodded, starting to slowly relax around him. "You can move now," she informed him, her voice playfully prim and proper.

Robb chuckled, though he wasn't going to reject her offer, "And how is it that you know that I'm supposed to move?" he asked her as he slowly rolled his hips, gently pulling halfway out before thrusting just as gently back in.

Lenora rolled her eyes, "Just because I've never been with a man does not mean that I don't know a bit of what it entails," she told him. Robb snorted at that, continuing his movements even as he raised one of his eyebrows and looked down at her skeptically. She shrugged one of her shoulders, "A maid and a squire in King's Landing," she told him, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "They were in the stables, I saw them one day when I went down to ride Casterly."

"And you spied on them, did you?" Robb asked, his hands running down her sides, tickling her slightly as he began to quicken his movements, pulling all the way out of her before thrusting back in now.

Lenora giggled and surprised him by rolling her hips up to meet his, thrust for thrust, "I was curious," she told him as she demonstrated that she may have learned something from her spying.

That little roll of her hips was all Robb needed to bring him overboard. He groaned as he pulled out of her and thrust in, deeper this time than ever before. Her felt her tighten around him and he groaned again, this time muffling the sound against her shoulder. He stayed there, slowly rocking his hips against her, riding it out. Only once he was finished did he open his eyes and lift his head off her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered, quickly pulling out of her even though the last thing he wanted to do was leave her.

"For what?" she whispered.

"The last part is a bit messy," he told her. He quickly moved away from the bed toward the tub at the back of the tent. He grabbed a cloth and dipped it into the jug of water. He would have wiped himself off first, but he was a gentleman. He brought the cloth to Lenora and gently eased her legs apart, using the cloth and the warm water to clean the blood and semen from the inside of her thighs, she flinched. He nodded as he began to clean himself off. "You'll be sore for a day or two," he told her, dropping the cloth to the floor and climbing onto the bed.

Slowly, careful not to jostle her too much he lifted her up so that he could pull the blankets out from under them. And then he laid her back down, covering them both up with the blankets. She sighed, almost happily and rolled onto her side, curling against his chest. He lifted one of his hands to her hair and ran his fingers though it for a few silent minutes before he finally spoke up, "So," he said, drawing out the word. "Are you going to tell me why you finally decided that tonight was the night?"

She shrugged her shoulders and kept her eyes closes, "The same reason you decided to marry me," she whispered. Robb's breath caught in his throat, and for just a moment he allowed himself to hope that she was going to tell him that she loved him. She didn't. "Because I am the only true Baratheon heir," she whispered, finally opening her eyes to look at him. "And if I'm going to have a beast try to get into my bed it might as well be a wolf. At least I know that a Stark will defend my honor."

Author's Note:
Hello friends! Did you miss me? I've been gone for like twenty-four hours.
Anyway, my name is Chloe Jane and like I said at the top, I suck at writing sex scenes. So do with this chapter, what you will.
I hope you enjoyed it. Even if it was bad. I figured that by the time we reached chapter eighteen it was time for our two lovebirds to "do the thing" as my husband likes to call it. (He's very mature, that one.)
Anyway, since you've read the chapter, and I'm going to hope that you liked it. and I'm going to assume you are reading this note ... why don't you drop down to the review box and show a little love. They do motivate me to keep going after all.
HUGE thank you to those who reviewed on the last chapter:
DannyBlack70: Robb didn't backtrack for long. I definitely understand, in GoT world hesitation often ends in death, but that was a conscious decision. He made her marry him. He forced her into that, but he loves her. He wasn't going to steal anything else from her. If he had her, he wanted it to be n her terms because he's still good guy Robb, even if Lenora doesn't always see it. I hope you liked this chapter, it was kind of fun to write.
RHatch89: Well, you got your wish friend. Lenora learned the truth. She's not particularly happy with her uncle right now. Heartbroken I would say. I hope you enjoyed it! You sadist, you. (Just kidding!)
HPuni101: I'm glad that you liked the last chapter. I hope that you enjoyed this one too! Thank you so much showing some review love!
Arianna Le Fay: I will give you this. If Robb dies, Lenora will end up with Jon ... in some capacity or another. They probably will not marry each other though. But, this might make you happy, once this story is done (not during because I've learned my lesson for writing multiple stories at once) and my brain has settled a bit, the next story I will write is a Jon Snow one.
ZabuzasGirl: Hi friend! Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I hope that you liked this one too!
That's all I've got for now. Thank you guys for stopping by.
Until next time,
Chloe Jane.