Chapter Four (Waxing Gibbous)
With A Little Help From My Friends
Chapter Summary:
"What toll is it he wants?" Something warned Robb that Lord Frey's toll was going to be something he was not going to like.
Meanwhile, Robb gets a little "help" along the way.
Alternatively: The Bear and the Maiden Fair
Robb had been relieved when they had finally emerged from the massive swamp that made up the Neck of Westeros and into the Riverlands. Much as he was sad to leave Howland Reed's easy smiles and good company behind at Moat Cailin, he was glad to no longer feel as if he was breathing water and be back on solid ground, even if it wasn't familiar ground. It was also easier going for the horses as well. Unlike the ponies Howland and the other Crannogmen rode, the destriers had struggled with the footing on the narrow causeway.
It was also interesting to see the lands of his mother's birth and girlhood as well. The land was rich, lush, and verdant, exactly the kind of thing Robb had pictured based on the name. He was looking forward to meeting more of his mother's relatives when they reached Riverrun as well.
Robb could tell his mother was anxious. Truthfully, Robb was too, but he did his best not to let it show. His mother had told him to lead, and so he was leading. He could only hope he wasn't making a grievous mistake. He found himself questioning every word, every action. It was enough to make a man go mad, but on he persisted. He had taken to pacing his tent as many nights as he slept, but so far things seemed to be going according to plan. He could only hope some combination of his luck, his men, and the Gods would keep them safe.
His men. The thought was still mind boggling. Only the crippling fear of making some disastrous error kept the fact that he had eighteen thousand men at his command from going to his head, assuredly. Well, that and he was Ned Stark's son and a man of the North and that sort of foolish self-importance was better left to Southroners. The North had existed for thousands of years before any of them and would go on existing thousands of years after them as well.
Today, Robett Glover rode beside him. Robb remembered what his father had always told him. 'Know the men who follow you and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger.' That had always felt surreal to Robb — the idea that men might one day die for him. It still felt somehow out of reach of his understanding even though it was about to happen.
When Robb thought about the women whose husbands wouldn't warm their beds again and children who would never know or remember their fathers because he had called the banners of the North and interrupted the families of thousands of men, his stomach twisted in guilty knots. But this is what bannermen were supposed to do was it not? To support each other in times of need. A lord was good to his bannermen — if he was a good lord — and they would defend him with leal service when called upon.
Still, Robb couldn't help feeling like he would have preferred a few more years to get used to the idea before he was riding off to war. Gods knew what he wouldn't give to simply be Robb-the-boy back at home with Mother, Father, and his brothers and sisters. It seemed as if one day he'd been sparring in the yard with practice swords and now a very real and dangerous sword flashed at his side. But that was all over and could never be again. Perhaps he should have appreciated it more at the time.
He tried to take every word of advice his father, Maester Luwin, and Ser Rodrik had ever taught him into account each day and with each action. As a result, every day a different one of his men rode at his side at the head of the column while he soaked up every word of advice each of them had to offer as well. More often than not, he learned about children, wives, siblings, trades, hobbies, and anything else the men cared to level as the topic of discussion for that day. Getting to know them, Robb had to admit, was something he enjoyed.
Robb shielded his eyes to see a man riding North toward them and recognized that it was one of the scouts gone ahead with the Blackfish. "Ser Brynden bade me ride back with word. Lord Frey has, as far as we can tell, a host of about four thousand men at the Crossing. Lord Tywin's host is several days South still, but Lord Frey hasn't marched."
Robb's mother had ridden up the column to join them when the scout approached and commented, "Late again." Robb knew what she meant. He had heard this story from Ser Rodrik before. Lord Hoster Tully had called his banners during Robert's Rebellion but Walder Frey had conveniently arrived with his men after the Battle of the Trident was already over. The man had a way of only supporting winning (or won) causes. Robb realized, in something like shock and horror, that Lord Walder was waiting to see if Robb was a winning or a losing cause before throwing in his lot. And if he turned out to be only a green boy incapable of handling the task set before him, no doubt Lord Walder would then turn tail to the Lannisters just as fast as he could. It irritated Robb once he figured out what Lord Frey intended, but there was nothing to be done about it.
His mother confirmed his thoughts. "Lord Frey has always been more friendly with the Lannisters than my father would have liked." Robb was loath to point out that with the number of children Walder Frey had sired, what family didn't have one of them married into it at some juncture or another — though he took his mother's point. The Late Lord Frey would join the battle only if he was satisfied with how it was progressing. If not, he would sit inside his bloody castles and watch them.
"Do you think he intends to betray us to the Lannisters, my lady?" Lord Glover asked.
Catelyn sighed. "I doubt even Lord Frey knows what Lord Frey intends to do. He has an old man's caution but a young man's ambition and has never lacked for cunning."
Robb did not like the sound of that at all. While he was not counting on Lord Frey ever since his mother had warned him not to trust the man, it still irked him. Robb shook his head, "We have to cross here. The Ruby Ford is leagues away and the river is too high to raft across even if we had the time and timber to do it. We don't have a choice."
"Exactly. And Lord Frey knows that just as well as we do."
Robb restrained a frustrated sigh.
Camp that night was relatively sober while the men prepared for whatever was going to happen with Lord Frey. Robb sat in his mother's tent cleaning and polishing his sword while Grey Wind lay at his feet and watched the fire contentedly. The hunting was plentiful here and the wolf was probably the only one of them who was particularly pleased with his lot for the day. Robb leaned down to ruffle the wolf's pelt as Theon lifted the tent flap.
"Have some food." Robb said, standing and passing a bowl of stew to Theon who had been riding between Ser Brynden and Robb the last several days couriering both news and any messages the Blackfish did not want left to ordinary scouts.
Theon took the bowl gratefully and sat to eat. "It's not all bad news. Ser Brynden crossed swords with the Lannisters and a good dozen scouts won't be reporting back to Lord Tywin soon." He spooned stew into his mouth before adding, "Or ever." Robb had to stifle a laugh. Theon continued, "Ser Addam Marbrand commands their outriders and he has been pulling south — but he's burning as he goes. The Blackfish says he knows approximately where we are but swears he'll not let them know when we split. That, they won't see coming."
"We hope." Robb added.
"Unless Lord Frey tells them." Catelyn told Theon to have Ser Brynden set archers to shoot down any ravens, but Theon said the Blackfish had already seen to it.
"A few more blackbirds, and we should have enough to bake a pie. I'll save you their feathers for a hat."
Robb almost groaned at Theon's cockiness but couldn't help but smile ruefully even so. Theon had always had a mouth that could get him into just as much trouble as his sword, and Robb didn't expect that was likely to change anytime soon.
"What have the Freys been doing while the Lannisters burn their fields and plunder their holdfasts?" Catelyn asked, moving to warm her hands by the fire. Robb noticed, as he had many times, that his mother's fingers would never be the same again after her fight with the Catspaw and the Valyrian steel dagger. Damn the Lannisters.
"There's been minor skirmishes between Ser Addam's men and Lord Walder's, but most of his strength is still at the Twins."
"… Well, I suppose at least we can count on him to be predictable. That has Walder Frey's seal all over it." Robb was surprised at the bitterness in his mother's voice as she continued. "Hold back, wait, watch, take no risk unless forced to it."
Robb tried for optimism. "Well, if he's fought some with the Lannisters perhaps he will hold to his vows."
"Or he might not." It wasn't like Catelyn to be so openly and stubbornly pessimistic, and it worried Robb to no end, but he waited for her to continue. "Defending his land is an easy enough choice. Actually backing us or attacking the Lannisters is another thing entirely."
Robb was trying not to be frustrated but finally couldn't help himself. "We must have the Crossing! Lord Tywin is burning his way toward us even as we speak."
"Lord Frey would be a fool to try and bar our way. We have five times his number. You can take the Twins if it comes to that, Robb." Theon's easy confidence wasn't as reassuring as it usually was though.
"Not easily and not in time. If you mount a siege, Lord Tywin would come around and attack you from the rear," Catelyn pointed out.
Robb was feeling overwhelmed. He would have given anything, just then, to be able to leave that tent and simply walk away from all of this — let someone else handle it for a few hours. But he didn't have that luxury. He would have given even more to be able to talk to his father, even for just a few moments. Finally, Robb took some calming breaths and turned to his mother. "What would my lord father do?"
Catelyn Stark pinched her lips together for a long moment and said, "Find a way across. Whatever it took."
"Then that's what we will do," Robb said decisively.
The next morning, word was no less grim. Dark words came by way of a Blackfish rather than a raven, however. Ser Brynden himself rode back to them this time, and Robb knew with one look at his great uncle's face that the word he'd brought was indeed dark. Robb waited, Grey Wind tense beside him.
"There's been a battle under the walls of Riverrun. We had it from a Lannister outrider we took captive. The Kingslayer has destroyed Edmure's host and sent the lords of the Trident reeling in flight."
'May the others take him.' Robb thought, clenching his jaw.
"And my brother?" fear was evident in Catelyn's voice when she spoke. It was another thing Robb wasn't sure he would ever get used to and didn't want to get used to — his mother being frightened. She was always so strong. Until Bran had fallen, he had never seen his mother scared and rarely sad either. It was hard to bear, especially when Robb could do nothing. He was frightened himself, but that seemed less important somehow.
"Wounded and captive. The survivors are under siege inside Riverrun — surrounded by Jaime's host. Moreover, Lord Frey has pulled his whole strength back inside his castles, and his gates are closed and barred."
'May the others take him right along with the Kingslayer!' Robb thought.
"Damn him!" His temper flared like the young man he was for just a moment. "If the old fool does not relent and let me cross, he'll leave me no choice but to storm his walls. I'll pull the Twins down around his ears if I have to. We'll see how he likes that!" Robb's cheeks were red with anger, his eyes steely for all as they were Tully blue like his mother's.
But Catelyn, more tempered, chastised him and made his cheeks redder still. "You sound like a sulky boy, Robb. A child sees an obstacle and his first thought is to run around it or knock it down. A lord must learn that sometimes words can accomplish what swords cannot."
Robb felt his face burn and could tell the red flush was creeping up his ears and down onto his neck. His response was meek this time. "Tell me what you mean, Mother."
"Remember what I told you at Moat Cailin. The Freys have held the crossing for six hundred years, and for six hundred years they have never yet failed to exact a toll."
"What toll is it he wants?" Robb had a feeling it wouldn't be as simple as gold. Something inside him warned him that Lord Frey's toll was going to be something he was not going to like.
"That is what we must discover."
Robb felt himself growing frustrated again but tried to keep his temper in check, "And if I choose not to pay this toll?"
"Then you had best retreat back to Moat Cailin and deploy to meet Lord Tywin in battle… or grow wings. I see no other choices." And before Robb could so much as respond, his mother had put her heels into her horse and left his side.
Robb clenched his eyes closed for a minute remembering his mother's words from the night before. 'Find a way across, whatever it took.' Right. He needed to calm down and think like the Lord of Winterfell and not like a boy. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
Near midday, the Twins came into view. They were even more formidable than Robb had been picturing. The Green Fork was swift and deep and the famed bridge was a massive arch above it made of smooth, grey stone. Robb judged it wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast. A great tower rose from the center of the bridge's span. 'Well played,' Robb thought as he stared at the tower. That tower, combined with a castle at each end of the bridge, assured that anyone approaching either by land or river could not do so without facing a rain of arrows from the tower's arrow slits and murder holes. The twin castles themselves were ugly — at least compared with Winterfell's Northron beauty. Squat and unappealing, they sat hulking at either end of the bridge, almost taunting him. Each castle had high curtain walls and a barbican and portcullis on either bank. Meanwhile, Robb could see an archer at every crenel and arrow slit — and there were likely plenty more he couldn't see. The drawbridge was up, the portcullis down, and the gates closed and barred just as Ser Brynden had warned. 'Godsdamn the Freys.'
Robb could hear the Greatjon blustering and cursing even though he was several men back in the column. Lord Rickard Karstark glowered in silence as if his mere gaze would bring down the castles. "That cannot be assaulted, my lords," Roose Bolton commented. Robb knew he was right. It might as well have been Moat Cailin all over again, but this time apparently not in their favor.
As if on perfect cue, a plank bridge slid across the moat. A dozen knights rode forward to confront them under a banner of twin towers — dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey. The Frey men, Robb thought, were as ugly as their castles. All of them had the look of a family of weasels, though, at the least, Ser Stevron — Walder's heir — seemed to be a polite weasel. "My lord father has sent me to greet you and inquire who leads this mighty host."
'A greeting indeed.' Robb thought, but he had calmed himself down after his mother's rebuke of earlier and was trying very hard to be more like his father. "I do." Robb came forward with Grey Wind at the heels of his horse.
Ser Stevron seemed almost amused at the wolf, though slightly less so when his horse had the good sense to be well wary of Grey Wind and began to back and prance nervously. Robb could not resist feeling a moment of satisfaction in that. However, Ser Stevron's next words were far less amusing. "My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here."
'You know very well the purpose. You are sworn to House Tully!' Robb thought, but kept his mouth shut and his face impassive. For all his silence, however, his Lords made it up in their yelling, cursing, and blustering over each other even as they all tried to say the same thing. It was unequivocally agreed that Robb should not accept the offer. He remembered uncomfortably how his mother had told him Lord Hoster did not trust Lord Frey and neither should he. Indeed, there was something about this situation he very much misliked.
"Go in there alone and you're his. He can sell you to the Lannisters, throw you in a dungeon or slit your throat as he likes." Roose Bolton commented, though Robb, this time, was aware of the danger. Like as not, they'd kill him before he ever reached the bread and salt. 'Even a nice weasel has teeth,' Robb thought wryly.
"Let him come out and treat with Robb in plain sight of his men and ours," Ser Wylis Manderly spoke up.
Robb was surprised as his mother cantered through the column with all the bannermen quietening in surprise at her sudden appearance. "I will go." Her voice was strong and sure.
Robb's stomach did uncomfortable flip-flops. "Mother, are you certain?" He misliked the idea of his mother going with these men all alone.
"Never more. Lord Walder is my father's bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm."
Robb wondered if the glib tone belied as much fear on her own account as Robb currently felt for her, but no one offered a better plan, either.
Ser Stevron-the-weasel smiled. "I am certain my lord father would be pleased to treat with you, Lady Catelyn. To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you."
'Well, that's something, at least.' Robb thought. "He shall be our honored guest. I require my lady mother's return by evenfall, Ser Stevron. It is not my intent to linger here." 'Nor my intent to allow you to let my mother languish in a dungeon.' Robb added silently.
Ser Stevron nodded politely, "As you say, my lord."
Robb watched his mother cross the bridge as Lord Frey's envoys closed in around her and prayed to the Old Gods and the New that he'd made the right decision.
Once, when Catelyn had been a young girl, Petyr Baelish had given her a present. However, when she had opened the box she found inside, much to her dismay, a second box. When she opened the second box, there appeared a third box and so on and so forth. Ultimately, she had had to open five boxes to reveal the present and all the while Petyr had watched her with glee when, each time, she expected to find a present only to be rewarded with yet another box. Catelyn had never been sure whether Petyr had liked her consternation over the boxes or her response to the actual present more. He had sworn, though, that it wasn't a present she'd forget and that had been true. To be sure, the pretty gold and silver bracelet had been pleasing, but she remembered the riddle of the boxes just as much if not more.
Haggling with Lord Walder Frey for the crossing of the Twins felt a little bit too much like that set of boxes. She never seemed to get to the end of it and there was always something else. Moreover, there was little she could do to improve her situation given that Walder Frey knew he had her over a barrel and that her need to cross was paramount; therefore, he could demand all the more for his asking price. Catelyn suspected Lord Walder Frey's toll got substantially higher the greater the desire was to cross. Unfortunately, in her current situation, she couldn't even try playing as if she had other options or that her need was not great or urgent — not with thousands of men sitting on the bank of the Green Fork.
There were times Catelyn had despaired that they would ever reach an agreement. While she had told Robb that Ned would have done whatever it took cross, and that was true, it didn't mean she could allow any option on the table. However, she had to be very careful how she refused and what she countered with given that Lord Frey was a prickly man and could be so easily offended — not that he gave the same care not to give offense himself. Of course, he never had but it was all the more irksome when they both knew he didn't even have to give pretense of not being offensive — and didn't. Catelyn knew precious few bannermen so brash as to say the things about their liege lord that Walder Frey did about Hoster Tully — and to Lord Tully's own daughter — without batting an eyelash!
Despite it all, though, Catelyn had known once Lord Walder exclaimed "Well, you can't cross! Not unless I allow it, and why should I? The Tullys and the Starks have never been friends of mine," and then had leaned back in his chair with a smirk, that the rest was only haggling. He'd had his mummer's show and now he would actually tell her what price he wanted. That was one thing about the Freys that could always be counted on. At times, Catelyn thought they were little better than sellswords. They always had a price. And an ally who always had a price was a risky one at best. Catelyn would be extremely grateful when this business was done and they were well past the Twins.
"Well. I've a good many children, Lady Catelyn. As you saw earlier."
She had indeed. Lord Frey had seen fit to assemble his entire household to receive her: all twenty living sons (minus Ser Perwyn — who would have made one and twenty), six and thirty grandsons, nine and ten great-grandsons and numerous daughters, granddaughters, and grandbastards. Catelyn now knew what Lord Hoster Tully had always meant when he'd remarked that Walder Frey was the only lord in the Seven Kingdoms who could field an army out of his breeches. She had always known Walder Frey had had a string of wives and children, but she supposed she'd never thought specifically about how many children a string of eight wives and ninety years of life could produce until they were all assembled together in one room. It was slightly startling and disconcerting by turns.
"Yes. All fine sons and daughters."
"Pah! Save your sweet words, Catelyn Tully. I get more than enough of those from my wife. No, my get are snot-nosed brats every one, just waiting for me to die. Stevron's been waiting forty years and I've not done. Well, I'm not of a mind to die yet."
"Of course not, my lord. I do hope you live to be a hundred." Catelyn responded.
"That would boil them sure and certain! But as I said, I've no mind to die yet. Especially not now that I've got a pretty young wife. A sweet little jonquil, and her honey's all for me. And surely I've mentioned she'll be giving me a son by this time next year no doubt?"
"You have…" 'Thrice so far,' Catelyn thought. Perhaps Theon Greyjoy's uncouth manner was rubbing off on her more than she would have preferred as she had to marvel that Walder Frey was both still fecund and potent. One would not have been able to guess based on his appearance.
"But that will be next year. Nonetheless, it does serve to plan ahead. It can be difficult to sort out to do with so many children."
"Indeed. Perhaps you would be interested in having a son or two come North to Winterfell to foster?" The man had made his point clear so it wasn't exactly a question even though she had posed it as one. Catelyn was unspeakably weary and wished Walder Frey would simply spell out his terms. That would have been too much to hope for.
"Well…" Lord Frey took a moment, pretending to seriously consider the offer — as if he hadn't conceived of it himself. "That's very generous. Especially generous to take two off my hands!"
Catelyn forced herself to smile pleasantly. "It would be my honor. I'll see that they are safely escorted back. My sons Bran and Rickon remain at Winterfell and would be very anxious to have new companions."
"Speaking of companions. Well, I've a boy close of an age with your Robb. Olyvar it is. He's an anxious sort but loyal. He's of a mind to be a squire if he had someone to squire for."
"I suspect any of the knights in our company would be happy to take on Olyvar."
"Any of them, heh! How about Robb?"
This time it was Catelyn's turn to feign serious consideration. She could not give Lord Frey everything he wanted with absolutely no resistance or he would refuse on mere principle no doubt. "Like as not, but does Olyvar understand that Robb is not a true knight? His skill is excellent, but Robb is a Northman and keeps the Old Gods." That was an honest question. If Olyvar Frey hoped for a knight who could raise him to knighthood himself once he deemed Olyvar ready, he would not find that in Robb.
Lord Frey brushed off the comment like brushing off a bothersome fly. "Bah. Titles. He'll learn his skills the same won't he? You say your son's a good sword?"
"Aye. Trained by Ser Rodrik Cassel."
"As I thought. Yes, he'll serve well enough. If Olyvar is of a mind to move beyond the role of a squire, he'll manage eventually."
"Very well then. I'm sure Robb will be pleased to have a squire." 'And may the Gods be good that the lad is actually able tosquire rather than simply of a 'mind' to squire.' Catelyn thought. She did not particularly want to foist a green boy with no idea what he was doing on her son, but if worse came to worse…
Lord Frey watched Catelyn the way Grey Wind watched dinner, waiting for her to speak.
Catelyn watched him in return and kept her own counsel. 'Come, My Lord. You really must think me the young girl who visited twenty years past.' Catelyn thought. 'I know you will not grant us passage this easily. Not when you have everything to gain by bleeding us for all you can.' But if Lord Frey wanted more, he would have to set the terms himself. Catelyn was not going to offer up options for him given she had already accepted two wards and a squire.
"Your father has never had much use for me, Lady Catelyn. Now, don't deny it because we both know it's true. Your family has always pissed on me. Years ago, I went to your father and suggested a match between his son and my daughter. Why not? I had a daughter in mind even, sweet young girl only a few years older than Edmure. Of course, if he didn't warm to her, I had others he might have had: young ones, old ones, virgin ones, widows, whatever he wanted."
Catelyn could only find it odd that Lord Walder discussed his daughters as such, but said nothing. Lord Walder did not want her to say anything. She could only imagine, though, what concession he was planning to require her to agree to on her father's behalf to make up for the slight. Lord Walder had an unfailingly long memory when it came to any slight. Gods knew it had been at least decade ago surely that he had tried to arrange this proposal given it had been that long at least since Hoster Tully had been seriously trying to arrange marriage for Edmure. For someone who bristled so much at the Blackfish for having a disobliging habit of wrecking marriage proposals, the fact that Edmure remained unmarried amused Catelyn, though she'd never point it out to him.
"Lord Hoster wouldn't have it though. Sweet words he sang me so I wouldn't smell the stink of the piss of course but I'm not a fool. However, that was a good long time ago."
'A good long time ago and yet you remember it so vividly.' Catelyn mentally added, but simply kept a neutral expression as she let Lord Walder wax his tale.
"But we can easily put that behind us. After all, I've still got all the kinds of daughters above! And you have a son right here! Positively providential, I call it!"
Ah. There it was. A marriage pact was what he wanted from the first. He'd simply been reeling her in with the smaller requests to begin with. 'Gods be good!' Catelyn had not thought to ever be in this position — making marriage arrangements for her children without Ned by her side to keep counsel with. Moreover, Robb was a man grown and leading nearly the entire strength of the North behind him. While it certainly was not unusual for parents to broker marriage pacts for even adult children, that was usually with their consent or at least their knowledge. It felt underhanded to promise Robb to a girl in the spur of the moment without consulting Ned or Robb either one, and preferably both. Perhaps other parents might have done such a thing, but Catelyn could not help but feel uneasy. She and Ned had never handled their children's lives in such a… careless manner and Catelyn did not like the idea of beginning now.
And through it all she was struggling to keep her face as impassive as she had wanted, Godsdammit.
Lord Walder must have seen through her mask.
"Come now, Lady Catelyn! You've no need to look so cowed. I have a pretty, young daughter I think will suit your boy."
"I did not mean to give offense. I was merely surprised." She knew her voice was more formal and forced than it usually would be, but at least that might not be recognized.
"And now that you're no longer surprised, what will it be?"
'Gods forgive me Ned, Robb.'
"You have someone you say will suit him well?"
"My girl Roslin should please any man with sense. Good enough for your Robb by far. She's a good girl, a pretty little thing. My youngest with my sweet Bethany. Fifteen she is, of an age with your boy. She enjoys music."
A good choice if Lord Walder was telling it true. Rosbys were not known for being particularly hearty stock, but Bethany had borne Walder five children — one each year of their marriage — and to Catelyn's knowledge her death had not been in childbed. Not the worst history, she supposed.
"With a condition. I want to ensure whomever my son marries will be able to give him children. I would have the girl examined by our Maester. We are fortunate enough to have Luwin with us, and it really would set a mother's mind at ease. After all, Robb is my eldest and Roslin would be the mother of House Stark's heirs." 'Temper potential insult with something he will not be able to resist.'
"It would seem you do not trust me."
"Not at all. It is simply a mother's over concern for her son."
"Hm. I suppose I see no harm in your maester attending Roslin. If he should find anything disagreeable with her, then your boy can have his pick of the rest. But I will have them wedded and bedded before the crossing. Robb can take her on to Riverrun or leave her as he pleases and return for her, but he'll do either only after putting a babe in her belly."
Catelyn looked at the man in consternation. "Lord Walder, look outside your gates! Tywin Lannister is burning and plundering his way through the Riverlands. This seems hardly the appropriate time…" But a nagging thought reminded her that her own father had required the same of Ned before he rode off to Robert's Rebellion. She and Lysa had married together and both been left behind at Riverrun. For a time, they had hoped they might be mothers together, but that had not come to be.
"Oh, but it will be good fun! It won't take so long to wed and bed them. The war can wait a night or two. Besides, if he hasn't already, your boy ought to deflower a girl before he goes off to fight."
Once again, Catelyn could not help but find it perverse for a man to suggest such a thing when the 'girl' in question was his own daughter.
"In fact, you've got a girl as well. Two even if I'm not mistaken. And I'm not wanting for boys either…"
Now there she drew the line. They were bordering onto madness by now. This would surely be the heaviest toll the Freys had ever exacted for crossing the Twins, and it was more than generous enough. "It would not be advantageous to either of our houses to double marry. I do not have quite as many children to spare as you do, Lord Frey."
"Well, you do have a spine. I was wondering when you'd say no!" And Walder Frey actually chuckled. "Very well. You can cross."
Catelyn felt a dizzy sense of relief and managed a weak smile. Now it only remained to see what Robb would say about what she had saddled him with. 'Find a way to cross. Whatever it took.' She reminded herself firmly. "Very well." She agreed.
"I'll have my men clear out of the Water tower. There are chambers in it enough for a few of your main party. Even a suite well suited to use for a bedding." And he chuckled again. The odd man.
"And, Lord Walder, you are a bannerman of House Tully are you not?" Catelyn reminded pointedly.
"I take your meaning, Lady Catelyn. Contrary to what you might assume, I did not call my swords to sit here and eat up all my stores at the end of summer. My son Stevron will ride with you and lead the Frey banners less four hundred men to stay and hold the Crossing. That is what you wanted to know?"
"It is. We will do the same — less four hundred men to help augment your garrison. We also appreciate the use of the water tower suites." Catelyn could not deny that she was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed again. The one night at Moat Cailin had hardly been enough to satisfy the ache in her bones after months of sleeping on the ground.
"They can marry tomorrow evening. Many women as are here, I can't imagine putting together a maiden cloak will be difficult for them."
'If you've not already had them start, I'll eat my hat.' Catelyn thought, but only smiled demurely.
Robb was pacing in his tent while he waited on his lady mother to return. With each hour that passed, he became more anxious. He had said he required her back by sunset and it was sunset by now, and she had not yet returned. And so, he paced back and forth across the small space between the tent wall and his bedroll while Grey Wind watched him with a slightly concerned look. He sensed his master's unease and did not like it.
"You're going to wear a mud track into the ground." Theon finally said, looking up at Robb. He was sitting on Robb's bedroll watching the boy who had been closer to him than the brothers he had grown up with, really. Watching his anxiety was both amusing and worrisome for Theon. He hated seeing Robb upset, could understand why he was, and was slightly amused all at the same time.
Robb looked up at him with a tenseness in his face that Theon wasn't used to seeing. "Do you have better ideas? I can't just sit here. I want to know what is going on. And I'd like to know what is taking so long. She was supposed to be back by now."
Theon rose to his feet and went to put a hand on Robb's shoulder. "She will be back. Give it a little time. Try to be patient." Theon didn't know that he was all that good at comforting people, but he did his best for Robb. He knew how close the Stark children had always been with both their parents, and could only imagine the worry Robb must be experiencing just now.
Fortunately, when the sun hung low, a giant red circle in the western horizon spreading orangey-red light through the clouds, Catelyn Stark appeared on the drawbridge mounted and leading a column of men — older sons of Lord Frey: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, and his bastard son Ronel Rivers. There was also a long column of pikemen and men shuffling along in blue ringmail and silvery grey cloaks. And Robb's heart leapt into his cheat, hardly dating to hope that maybe this meant something. Regardless, he was so relieved to see his mother well and unharmed.
Robb swung up onto his horse's back and cantered out to meet her on the bridge with Grey Wind racing alongside his horse's heels. Robb's own destrier had long ago gotten used to the wolf, though he made the Frey men's mounts uneasy, but they'd get used to him too, just as Robb's had. He would have given anything to be able to hug her and say how glad he was to see her in that moment, but he couldn't do that in front of all these men.
Catelyn smiled at him, seemingly knowing his anxiety. "It is done. You can cross."
Robb felt nearly faint with relief. In the hours that had passed, as long as it was taking, He'd started to prepare himself for the worst, such as having to go all the way down to the Ruby Ford. It would lose time and be much more dangerous, but if Lord Frey had refused, they'd have had no other choice.
"What .. Did he want of us?"
"Let us go somewhere we can talk," Catelyn said. "Then, I can explain everything." She swung down off her horse and put it into the capable hands of a young boy and Robb did the same as he matched her motion leading her through the camp until they reached his own tent. He noticed that Ser Brynden had followed them, but he didn't mind. "Sit. Tell me everything, please." Robb said, anxiously.
"Lord Frey's swords are yours less four hundred he will keep to hold The Crossing. I told him we'd leave 400 also to augment his garrison. Be certain you give the commend to someone you can trust — just in case Lord Walder needs some helping keeping faith." Catelyn stated. That meant his force stood just over 21,000 men.
"As you say, Mother. Perhaps Ser Hellman Tallhart?"
"A fine choice."
Robb nodded, "I'll tell him after we have eaten. But.. Tell me. What did he want of us? What is our toll?" His forehead was pulled into a worried pucker. The longer she said nothing, the more worried he became.
"Two of Lord Frey's grandsons will be fostering at Winterfell. They are around Bran's age. I'll need someone to escort them back North. Likewise you're to take on a grandson, Olyvar, as your personal squire."
Robb was surprised, "Two fosterlings and a squire? That's a small enough price —."
"Wait, Robb," his mother said gently. "There's more." There was something in her face, her tone that Robb suddenly felt unsure of. "There's a marriage pact."
"Well, Arya won't like that one bit. Though Sansa may not mind once we are able to get the both of them away from — "
"No, Robb. You don't understand." His mother said, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Her face was etched in concern as were her blue eyes. "The betrothal is for you. You're to wed one of Lord Walder's daughters. Tomorrow night."
To his credit, Robb managed not to flinch, though his brain felt as if it were expanding and imploding all at the same time. It was a fortunate thing he was already sitting down else his knees would have probably given out beneath him entirely. There was a strange dizziness, a buzzing in his ears. It wasn't the getting married part. All children of Lords, for the most part, made politically advantageous marriages, and Robb only hoped his own would one day become as loving as his parents' was.
No, what had taken him by absolute shock was that he would marry this girl tomorrow. The five and ten year old in him wondered what he would do if she was ugly, but he bit that worry down almost instantly. Such a thing did not matter in a marriage. If she was unattractive, perhaps he could find something else to like in her. Doubtless, she was no more ready or calm about this marriage than he was himself. He would simply be the best husband he was able to be and hoped this girl, whomever she was, would strive to be the best wife she could be. After all, one day, when his parents were gone — little as he liked to think about that just now given that it had too nearly come to pass — she would be the new Lady of Winterfell, and Robb could not imagine anyone else running Winterfell with the capability of his lady mother, but still wanted it anyway. All of those were things to sort out later.
"I consent, " Robb said simply. The look of pride on his mother's face just then made Robb flush and rub the back of his neck. And then, when she recalled that she was alone in the tent with he and the Blackfish, Robb found himself swept into a hug and pressed close against his mother. He hugged her back for just a brief moment before he pulled back.
"I am proud of you Robb. You have become a man your lord father and I are… are very proud of indeed."
Robb felt flustered and murmured, "Thank you," before quickly moving to the next topic. "Tomorrow, though? I had hoped not to linger here. We must march."
"I told Lord Frey that, but he insisted. We will have to settle for marching the day after tomorrow."
Ser Brynden spoke up for the first time then, "Our plans can be amended; it is not too long a delay." He reassured.
"Such a thing is not so uncommon," his mother added. "Both your aunt Lysa and I were married together in the sept at Riverrun before your father and Jon Arryn left to go fight in Robert's rebellion. Speaking of that. Lord Walder has offered you the decision about whether you would like to take your bride on with you to Riverrun or leave her here."
Robb nodded, almost numbly. He was too surprised and overwhelmed still to even consider that option for at least a few hours.
"I will talk to Maester Luwin directly. I would like him to see to the girl this evening and see that she is healthy and suitable."
Robb nodded, still feeling almost as if this was all happening to someone else. He would get used to the idea. Quickly. He would have to.
His mother continued, "There is a set of guest suites in the Water tower Lord Walder mentioned. He will have his men move out of it tonight as he has graciously offered us the use of it."
Robb smiled a bit for true then. The idea of a bed for the first time in many days was absolutely appealing. "I think it would be difficult to move camp so late, and I must consider who will come with us. On the morrow we can re-arrange things." Robb decided. It was already darkening by now.
The smell of food coking was wending its way through the camp, reminding Robb how hungry he was after a day of riding. He had barely eaten anything previously due to his anxiety and now was ravenous. "Do you know anything about the new squire? His training?"
His mother shook her head, "Little. His name is Olyvar and he is of a close age with you. Lord Walder reports him to be loyal though slightly anxious."
It wasn't the worst thing, Robb thought. "Did he come back with you?"
"Yes. Somewhere." The camp was overrun with near 4000 new men, so exactly where, she could not have said.
Robb nodded, "I'll.. Seek him out after I find some food."
Ser Brynden spoke then, "Would you like me to get you some food, Cat?"
"Thank you, Nuncle. I would appreciate that. I will be quite busy this evening, I think. I would like to sew the wife cloak myself as the Frey women will see to the maiden cloak."
Robb smiled, "Thank you, mother."
"Also, In case you wished to know, your betrothed's name is Roslin," his mother said.
Robb flushed, realizing he probably should have asked that. He simply nodded. "Thank you, Mother, I do not know what we would have done without you." He said, smiling at her for a moment before he left the tent and came face to face — literally— with Theon.
Robb's look of surprise melted into one of amusement. "You were eavesdropping." He accused, though with little concern. Theon Greyjoy was routinely doing things he had not ought be doing, but they were never particularly serious. Really, Robb was a little grateful he would not have to explain it all to Theon anyway. "You are incorrigible, you know that?" Robb said, giving Theon a playful shove.
Theon just smirked and gave Robb a playful push back. "Hopefully she's pretty so you can enjoy your marriage bed. Wish you'd given in and gone to the brothel in Winter Town now?"
"Hardly," Robb muttered. While Robb suspected his father would have looked the other way, Robb felt it was also not something his father would exactly approve of or done himself. True, he had had a single indiscretion, but Robb did not prefer to have any. His face was warm now.
Theon continued with a grin, "Well, since you didn't, I'll help you out. Number one, be sure she's nice and wet before you…"
"Seven hells, Theon! Fuck off — or come get something to eat with me," Robb said. At this point, his face was near Lannister red and felt as if it were on fire.
"Done. I believe I could eat an entire horse."
"I hope our state of provisions won't come to that. Let's go." He was anxious to join others before Theon could continue talking about his impending loss of having never been with a woman before. Gods.
Catelyn was still trying to come to terms with the concept that, on the morrow, her son would be a married man. Her mind kept playing over memories of his childhood and hoping she and Ned had taught him enough to be a good husband to Roslin.
She could certainly admit to being anxious as to how all of this would turn out and could only hope she had made the right decisions. She was incredibly proud of Robb and how he had handled everything with grace and acceptance. Her eldest was committed to this cause, however, and would do what he needed to do — just as all of them would.
Catelyn had no sooner broken her fast than Maester Luwin came to find her with word that he had been to the castles and seen Roslin.
"And?" Catelyn asked, heart in throat as she bade Maester Luwin sit.
"The girl is healthy and should be able to bear children if her mother is an indication. She is a maiden."
Catelyn let out a sigh of relief.
"She is not frail and appears very healthy with a nice flush to her cheeks. Though she is small with narrow hips, which may make her births difficult, she is no worse than others I have seen."
"And.. Is she.. Will she.. Be good to Robb?" Catelyn asked, desperately hoping the answer would be positive.
"I believe so." Maester Luwin said thoughtfully. "She was very nervous, so I could not get a good sense of her, but when she gets to know Robb, she will, perhaps, be a bit less shy of us and warm up a good deal."
It was better than Catelyn could have hoped really. She had not known what she might potentially be getting into when she agreed to a bride for Robb without having seen or spoken to her.
"You have my thanks," she said, placing a gentle touch on the Maester's arm with a smile.
"You are welcome, my lady. If you have no further need of me, I will retire."
"I will see you in the morning, then." Catelyn confirmed, watching him go with a sense of renewed hope.
Soon after, Catelyn sat in the glow of a lamp working with a cloak for Roslin. Catelyn had no small pearls or jewels to decorate the cloak with, but she was determined to use her best embroidery to make it beautiful for Roslin. This girl, Robb's own age, was surely nervous. Catelyn could remember how she had felt as a new bride in an unplanned marriage — to Ned instead of Brandon — and knowing she would be going to the wild North when the rebellion was over. She wanted something special for Roslin, therefore. That said, she would need to hurry to be done with the cloak by the next night. It was fortunate that Catelyn had spent years at her embroidery and could work quickly when required. Catelyn only put the cloak aside well into the wee hours of the morning when her eyes were too tired to focus on it. She slept only a few hours and broke her fast quickly before returning to her work.
Within her own possessions she had a light grey fur lined cloak of good condition that she had decided to use for the base. The majority of her clothes had become travel worn, but in the need to remain anonymous through most of the trip, this cloak, slightly fancier than her others, had seen less wear. The deep ivory of another dress's edge trimmings were cut and recycled to create a white border round the bottom and up the front edges of the cloak and to create a white direwolf at the back with the details of the wolf outlined in black silk thread. With more time, she'd likely have done the entire wolf in embroidery, but this served well and was pretty even so. Grey hair ribbons fastened the cloak at the neck. Ideally, she might have made the cloak white with grey and black, but she had to make do with what she had. Along the back she stitched trees from the Godswood beneath the Stark wolf including the Heart Tree in the center. She pulled out black thread from a regular cloak and red threads from a Tully cloak to reuse to create the details of the tree and its red leaves. She also created a few delicate white swirls and tiny snowflakes along the front of the cloak and falling over the trees. It was bittersweet in a way. Catelyn knew Robb would have preferred to marry before the Old Gods in a Godswood, but The Twins was too new a keep to have a godswood or heart tree being only about six hundred years old compared with some castles thousands of years old when the children had inhabited Westeros before The Pact and had carved the faces. So, it would be a sept wedding, though perhaps that would be a comfort to Roslin at least.
Finally, she was pleased with her work and declared it finished.
"Pst! Robb!"
Grey Wind stood immediately, alerted to a presence just inside Robb's tent, but recognized Theon and padded over to receive a pat while Robb rolled over on his pallet and then sat up, rubbing his eyes. He could tell it was still the pitch black of night.
Theon was across from his bed. "Come with me." He had a grin on his face that probably should have made Robb suspicious, but Robb was still too groggy to notice it.
Robb groaned in response to Theon's bidding. He was still sleepy after a day of hard riding in the morning and then anxiety in the afternoon. "What time even is it?"
"Hour of the bat."
Robb rubbed his eyes once more. He'd barely been asleep two hours then. Not even the middle of the night. Gods. "Where are we going?" He asked, getting up and beginning to dress. "Guessing I don't need mail?"
"No. And you'll see soon enough."
"Theon, remind me to kill you someday," Robb grumbled, but was in a slightly better mood after he moved around pulling on breeches, socks, jerkin, boots, and the like. Robb was not usually difficult to awaken, but only two hours of sleep left him still exhausted.
"What would be the fun in that?" Theon responded, still grinning.
"You'd never wake me up in the middle of the night to go do the Seven only knows what." Robb pointed out, though he was grinning himself by now.
"Let's go," Theon said, noting that Robb was dressed.
Robb followed Theon through the mostly sleeping camp. Earlier there had been music and much merriment as everyone knew the problem of the bridge crossing had been tackled. Now, the camp was quiet. However, more on the periphery of the camp, well enough away not to wake the others, some tents were still lively with light, voices, and music.
As they walked, Robb continued to wake up and become more aware and alert, and his curiosity was aroused at what was going on. He'd never noticed anything like this in the camp before. Then again, after a full day of riding, strategizing, making decisions, getting to know men, and the various tasks of Robb-the-Lord, he was usually extremely sleepy and fell into his bedroll the second he was able to do so.
When Theon entered one of the larger tents pulling Robb with him, Robb looked around in something between consternation, horror, and curiosity. The tent was bright with lanterns and comfortably filled with people. A few scantily dressed women moved about the tent with drinks. Patrek Mallister, who Robb knew liked 'drinking, women, and hawking' as Patrek always put it, had two women in his lap, one on each knee, and was saying something that was making them giggle. He caught sight of Robin Flint leading a girl out of the tent. Meanwhile, Greatjon Umber had a girl straddled across his legs with her skirt slipped as high as her thighs and giggling merrily. His son, Smalljon Umber, — just as large as his father — was across the tent with a girl whose shift was most of the way unlaced leaving hints of her breasts spilling out. Robb's blue eyes stayed wide as he looked at the scene before him in disbelief.
"Theon! This is no better than a brothel!"
Theon grinned hugely, "That's exactly what it is. Every army as its camp followers. It's your last night as a single man, and if you'll act the part of a man, then you deserve the pleasures of a man." Theon pointed out, clapping him on the back.
Robb's cheeks were red and somehow he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the breasts of the girl whose shift was undone much as he knew he ought to. "I will!" He protested. "Tomorrow! In my marriage bed!"
He thought maybe he would be able to sneak away unseen but did not have such luck. He was seen by Greatjon who called out to greet him as did Patrek Mallister. He could tell at a glance that both of them were heavily in their cups. They were ruddy faced with disheveled hair and big grins, the both of them.
"Tomorrow, in your marriage bed, you'll be grateful if you try a few things tonight. These girls know what they're doing ah… if you take my meaning." Robb took his meaning all right. He opened his mouth to respond back that he'd 'figure it out' but never managed to get it out before Theon was steering him toward a chair that had been vacated by Robin when he took his lady off. Robb's accursed Tully complexion was, of course, making an apt appearance. And, to his absolute horror, since there were breasts and knees and thighs near everywhere he looked, there was no 'safe' place to gaze and, as a result, he was starting to feel himself getting hard. And that was another thing he had little ability to conceal and was why he let Theon shove him down into the chair in hopes he would not be noticed. Of course, no matter how he shifted around, his body betrayed him. "Looks like at least part of you likes the idea." Theon chimed. "Besides, it's not as if this is nearly as bad as Making the Eight. If I were you…"
"Gods save me." Robb muttered under his breath because, before he knew it, Smalljon was helping out and Robb couldn't even protest before he had a giggling, grinning girl straddling his lap and pressing a cup of ale into his hands. Embarrassed, Robb drained it. He had no intention of winding up in his cups and participating in whatever debauchery Theon had in mind for him, but he had to do something to take the edge off his nerves. This was just reminding him that, in a day, he would have to do this for real, and even though he'd said he'd figure it out, he really didn't know all that much other than the basics of what went where.
Before long, one of the girls went by and refilled Robb's cup of ale. He was glad it was ale. He was going to need something stronger than wine to get himself through this… whatever it was… He couldn't ignore the girl on his lap who had pretty red-gold hair that she was wearing half up. Her shoulders were bare and covered with freckles and freckled breasts bulged above her partially opened shift. "Hello, Lord Stark."
"Robb." And he was mortified that his voice sounded squeaky and he couldn't quite manage to get his gaze off her teats.
"Do you like what you see, Milord?"
He tossed back another glass of ale and somehow found his mouth speaking without him having given permission for it to do so: "Ah.. Yes.." He managed. Gods why couldn't his get his eyes off them and look at her face?
"You can touch them you know, Milord."
"I… I don't know about…" but the girl took both his hands and pressed them to her hips and Robb found himself, guided under her touch, rubbing his hands up her sides until he was cupping a very fine pair of teats, one in each hand. Of course, it wasn't like he had anything to compare to, but they certainly seemed fine. "Uh… what's your name?" Robb asked, finally managing to look at her eyes. They were a blueish grey color.
"Alrya, Milord."
"Ah, just.. Robb please." He tried to insist. Somehow, he had to find a way to separate out the parts of himself to be able to cope with what was even going on here. He had the feeling there was no way he could simply walk away, and, to his further horror, he wasn't entirely sure he'd want to even if he could — without Theon dragging him back. Damn him. Theon was across the tent already with a girl in his lap and completely disinterested in Robb's plight. "Your name is pretty, but I… shouldn't… I'm getting married tomorrow." He muttered. It was no use. His eyes were back on her teats and she put her hands over his and started showing him how to rub them. Robb felt her nipples harden under the center of his palms and groaned audibly as he could tell his breeches were starting to get incredibly uncomfortable.
"Of course you should. Your new wife will thank you for knowing a little." Alrya teased him.
"I.." How was he even supposed to escape this situation? He was pressed back in a chair with a mostly hard cock and a girl's teats in his hands. Then, to his even further horror, Theon was pulling his girl along by the hand until he could come over to a seat vacated near Robb.
"Having fun?"
Alrya spoke first. "Oh yes, he is." Robb looked down and somehow couldn't seem to stop her as she undid his laces. At the very least, he was still wearing smallclothes and he was no longer in agony with the tightness. He didn't think he'd ever actually been this hard in his entire life. Then again, he'd never had a girl in his lap either.
"Now, there are important things you need to know," Theon said, grinning devilishly.
Smalljon must have heard and hopped into the conversation with a laugh. "You telling me he's never been with a girl?"
Robb tried not to answer, but his red face did the job for him. The man laughed heartily. "Well, be sure you get her nice'n wet down there. She'll still be a maid, and it'll feel better for her if she's wet.
Somehow, Robb had a feeling he knew what they meant by 'down there.'
"Oh and be sure you…" Theon made an obscene hand gesture "You'll last longer and not embarrass yourself if you do."
Robb's face was burning. "Gods, Theon!" he protested about the gesture. "Where exactly am I supposed to do that even if I was going to. Twenty thousand men know I'm … having a bedding tomorrow already!"
"Exactly, so you might as well stop worrying and just get to it." He made the hand gesture again and Robb swore at him again.
Robb knew, he just knew, he was going to regret asking this but finally, his curiosity got the better of him, "And exactly how do I… get her… wet. As you say?"
Greatjon laughed his booming laugh. "You've got a tongue don't you? Down there. Between the legs. They like that."
"You're welcome to practice on me?" Alrya said sweetly, but Robb shook his head fast. No way. This was all more than he was comfortable with, but Robb knew Theon and knew that once Theon get an idea into his head, you had no choice but to just go along for the most part.
"But not just the tongue!" Smalljon added, "You want a nice combination of sucking and licking. All you gotta do is act like you're motioning her to come hither. That motion, with your tongue."
"I think I need more ale." Robb said, having drained his second cup. And more was in his hand before he'd barely finished the words, and he took a long drink of it, trying to calm himself down. Clearly running away was quite impossible.
"Oh! And be sure to rub your cock against her slit when it's nice and wet before you go in there. She'll like that." Theon added.
"Mm hm.. Like.. Well this is a little backward I guess, milord, but." And before he could stop her, Alrya moved forward and was doing something that sent his mind into absolute bliss. She was shifting above him in a way that felt both entirely amazing and entirely inappropriate. Thank the Gods they both had their small clothes on. Still. She was moving her hips over him as she slid the area Robb was pretty sure they were all talking about along the smallclothes that covered his hardened cock — and now it was no half hard, either.
"Milord, how old are you?"
"Fifteen." Robb managed forcing his voice not to come out as a squeak and screwed his eyes shut letting out a gasp.
"Mm.. Very impressive for.. A man recently grown." Alrya purred.
"What do you mean?" Robb knew he was probably stepping into something like the quicksand in the swamps but couldn't help it.
"Right here. This lovely cock," she said, gyrating on it again and Robb was mortified that a little moan slipped between his lips.
Greatjon was laughing merrily. They all were. "It's going to be all nice and warm in there, but she's a maid so plenty tight. Likely will be some blood — that's normal. Shows you made sure to actually take her maidenhead — though some girls lose them by horseback riding, so it's possible not as well."
"Oh, and since it'll be nice and tight, you'll wanna stick in some fingers in first. To stretch things out." Theon added. By this point, Robb knew his face had never been so burning hot in his life and probably never would be again.
"You might feel her break and then you wanna hold still until she tells you you can move." Patrek Mallister added. "That part hurts a bit for them."
"I don't.. Want to hurt her." Robb protested, worried.
"It's only a little. Especially if she's nice and wet and you stretched with your fingers." Theon reassured. "Won't be bad at all then."
Robb nodded, trying to process the information while he drank deep from his fourth cup of ale.
"Oh it'll be plenty tight and nice and warm. That's the best part. It's warm and wet." Theon said, grinning. If Robb could have blushed more, he would've." Especially because Alrya was still uncomfortably close to gyrating her hips right on top of his small-clothes covered cock. Not that the smallclothes did much. He could feel her heat even though both layers. He was starting to get the idea of what they meant by 'wet' though at least. There was that.
And then, Greatjon, who actually had a nice singing voice, launched into a bawdy, loud version of The Bear and the Maiden Fair and Theon pressed Robb's fifth (wait sixth?) cup of ale on him.
A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair.
The bear! The bear!
Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
And down the road from here to there
From here to there!
Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!
They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!
The fair! The fair!
The ale was the only thing that seemed to control Robb's nerves and embarrassment of the situation. Plus, it was making his head swim warmly, which was better than being so embarrassed he could barely stand it — admittedly, he was still plenty embarrassed and was going to throttle Theon for this the first second he got a chance.
Now more men were taking up the song and gathering around him.
Oh sweet she was, and pure and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
The bear smelled the scent on the summer air!
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!
Robb groaned as he drank the ale and Alrya had his hands back on her breasts, encouraging him and showing him how to use his thumbs to stroke the dusky nipples that topped each of the mounds. (How was her shift completely unlaced?) When he did something she liked, she rewarded him with little gasping sounds. He somehow wondered with what little presence of mind he still had whether Roslin would make those sounds and hoped that she would.
Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
The bear, the bear!
Lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!
I called for a knight, but you're a bear!
A bear! A bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair.
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
but he licked the honey from her hair.
Her hair! Her hair!
He licked the honey from her hair!
On the last verse, every single person in the tent joined in. Even Robb with glowing red cheeks finally gave in and joined them as well.
"Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.
By the time Robb managed to escape the clutches of his men, it was well into the night and he was definitely more in his cups than he had ever intended to get. Fortunately, his virtue remained, well, somewhat in tact. His dignity had not — that was gone the moment his body sold him out for a raging hard cock that still ached. Nonetheless, Robb insisted on doing no more than touching Alrya and not getting anymore undressed than he had — and getting more information about the process of bedding a girl than he could have hoped to get and plenty more than he wanted to get. But at least, Theon pointed out as he guided a stumbling, slightly intoxicated Robb back to his tent, "You'll know something. Just don't forget." He made the obscene gesture again, and Robb's face went red all over again as Theon brought him to his tent and sat him down on his bedroll given Robb's head was spinning dizzily.
"Tomorrow, when I'm sober enough to actually hit and not miss you, you'll pay for this." Robb threatened, but they both knew well enough to know he wasn't truthfully upset. Theon was as good as a brother, and Robb knew how to take a good deal of teasing from his brothers. He also knew how to dish it right back out in kind.
Finally, with Theon gone, Robb turned over in his bed roll and prayed for his excited, aroused body to give him some relief.
As usual for the evening, his body betrayed him yet again. Fuck.
Hope you've enjoyed!
Now I'll have to find something to appease Robb because I've so thoroughly embarrassed him, poor lad.
Coming Next:
Robb is thoroughly wedded and bedded.