A/N: I am so happy to get all the positive responses from you guys. It really lifted my spirits, as I've taken a decent hiatus from writing in general to focus on mental health. I am so thrilled that this return has made people's days and I can't believe the following to this fic that had developed in my time away. I just want to thank all of you. I am trying to get a few chapters ahead so that I can publish weekly. I do want to say that this storyline is going to begin deviating greatly from the original.
Lelia knew she had royally screwed up. She should not have engaged in sex with Robb Stark this early. Obviously, he would be keen to have her, as he'd also cracked to Jeyne Westerling in the alternate universe of the books she had read. Despite being a man, he was untested and clearly filled with unsatiated lust. Her intent had been to use it to wrap him around her finger, in the same way she'd done with men in the past. But his sweet promises were like honey in her ears and she knew she could trust them. Robb Stark was a good man. She didn't need more than a week to know that. She knew that from her past life and thus, she felt much safer with him than she ought to given the circumstances.
Her core and legs ached. For his first time, Robb had absolutely destroyed her. Be it this frail body or a combination of the fact that Robb had an impressive, strong physique, she hadn't been able to walk properly back to her room. She had bled a bit from his unlubricated entrance, his inexperience gleaning, but in part, she was thankful despite the pain. He would think that he had taken her maidenhead due to the little bit of blood.
Her mind wandered as she brushed her hair. If Robb had been that passionate and ravenous their first time, she could only imagine how he might be once he tempered his ability later. He was a blank slate. Lelia thought that being with a virgin would unsettled her, but she found herself wishing that when she went to bed, that he was there with her. He had kissed every bit of her exposed skin, hadn't hung on the laces of her bodice to reveal her breasts, and had been careful with her. Could he give her the release she had been yearning for all these years? Could she teach him how to really pleasure her?
Useless thoughts, she tried to banish it from her mind, but between the long, frustrating journey to Winterfell and the fact that she did like and trust Robb, she knew she was in trouble. Already, she was contemplating when another tryst might occur or if Robb, ever the pragmatic honorable man, would refuse to lay a finger on her again after his misstep. She didn't think it would be too difficult to convince him again, although she couldn't be foolish enough to show her full hand and reveal her experience.
Tomorrow, her family would be leaving, and Winterfell would become her new home.
Lelia finished her moon tea and settled into bed, comforted by the thought that this alternate life might not pan out to be half as terrible as the transgressions in the book.
She awoke in a desolate, white landscape, so blindingly austere that she could not see beyond her own fingertips as she braced her face. The chill bit through her nightgown, too real to be a dream. Her bare toes were freezing, trekking along the packed ice as she wandered aimlessly. Where was she? Was this Beyond the Wall? This was pointless. There was nothing in this wasteland but death, especially for someone as unprepared as her. About to give up, the icy earth crunched in front of her. A figure loomed before her, crouching down to where she had fallen, adorned in furs, leather, and splinted armor.
For a moment, she could have been mistaken as a wildling. But the more that Lelia observed, she realized this woman could not be. The way her pale blonde hair was braided against her scalp, the charcoal smeared around her eyes, the hand axe and wooden shield-she looked like a viking. Wildlings did not have metal armor and Crows did not wear splinted mail and chain like this. It was not black.
"Stattu upp," (Get up) she ordered gruffly, hoisting Lelia back to her feet. She was strong, honed from years of combat, her pale icy gaze familiar, though Lelia knew she'd never met this woman before.
Deeper into the white abyss they tread. Each footfall ached until she no longer felt anything. The throbbing, stabbing pain dulled into numbness. Eventually, the storm broke and Lelia could finally see what laid ahead of them. She was expecting the arctic expanse of North of the Wall. Instead, her eyes focused on the craggy cliff she stood on with the strange warrior woman. Beyond the whirling wind that still kicked up the fine powdery snow, a fjord dropped below the perilous fall less than a dozen feet away. While the snow had cleared, the sky still roiled with boiling clouds, lightning flickering behind the curtain, thunder echoing. Turning around, the female threw a pair of extra boots toward Lelia, a stored cache uncovered from the shelter of a large boulder. She produced a cloak, which dulled the gnashing from the frigid temperatures. While Lelia still could not feel her feet, the boots were a welcomed comfort.
"Is this a dream?" Lelia inquired, hoping that the viking would elaborate what she was doing here.
A raven's bark made her jolt. Craning her neck up, she saw a solitary bird flying up above. The sight unnerved her, reminding her of what she had done. Bran had not fallen from the tower. Could he become the Three Eyed Raven still? She had not contemplated what it meant if Bran was not crippled. Why wouldn't he become the Three Eyed Raven still? There wasn't some unspoken law about needing to be paraplegic, was there? The lawyer in her twitched, wishing there had been a fine print document to read before she was forced into this dangerous endeavor.
"Taktu þetta," (Take this) she ordered, thrusting a small axe into Lelia's hand.
The princess stood there perplexed, not a tree in sight to fell, though this axe seemed a bit too tiny to do that. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
Turning away from her, there was no answer. Instead, the female paused after taking 5 steps and spun around. She had an axe of her own, lifting it over her shoulder, pointing her opposite finger toward a shield she had leaned against the stone. With a fluid swing, she launched the axe which turned butt over head before plunking into the makeshift target.
"You're training me?" Lelia puzzled, uncertain as to why she was having such a strange dream. No Lord of Light. Nothing to do with the Old Gods… presumably. The raven circling above still unsettled her. The female just leered at her and Lelia realized that there might be a disconnect in language. Whatever. Whatever this was, it was just a very odd dream. Stepping up beside the woman, she tried to mimic the method that she had used to toss the axe.
Bringing it back over her shoulder, elbow near her ear, she launched it as hard as she could manage. The axe did not fly gracefully. Instead it sailed directly into the ground about 6 feet from Lelia. The other blonde snorted, gesturing for her to do it again. This 'training session' lasted for what felt like an eternity. There were minor adjustments from the woman, but any words that she spoke, Lelia did not comprehend. Frustration crept into her aching muscles at this point and while she had improved, she still wasn't consistent and that aggravated her. Lelia liked being good at things. She prided herself on it. Now, she felt like an oafish child learning her bow all over again.
She awoke to sore limbs and pained feet. Lelia hissed, drawing her legs up, tossing aside the quilts to reveal terribly bruised and blistered soles. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She was in her room within Winterfell, yet she had the injuries from trekking in the packed snow of the mountain cliff. That did not make sense.
Who am I to judge? I shouldn't be here. I'm an anomaly as it is, she reminded herself as she clutched her poor feet. Aware that she needed to cover these injuries and quickly, she fumbled out of bed, tangling herself in her sheets and falling off the edge with a thump. Her entire body felt as if she'd battered it into the side of the mountain and she laid, shocked, on the ground for a minute as she tried to catch her breath.
Standing up was another challenge. Not only did her feet fucking kill her, her arms were jelly and her groin still throbbed from her little tryst with Robb. All in all, she was fucked up. Gods, what the fuck is going on?
Lelia had just managed to jerk stockings past her knees when there was a rapt knock on the door. Sucking in air, she braced herself for the inevitable agony of walking and then eased herself back to her feet, purposely walking on her toes where it hurt the least. Cracking the door open, she was greeted by her mother, who let herself the rest of the way in. The queen was dressed for the journey that would soon take place, her hair pinned perfectly, and her eyes venomous as she looked her eldest up and down.
"I'm surprised you're still in bed," Cersei commented, sweeping over to a chair, settling down. Dawn had already passed and uncharacteristically, Lelia had slept in.
Lelia nearly cursed. Stepping to the side, she did her best to hide the empty tea cup behind her. Had a servant been the one to bring the cup, they would have left with it as well. In fact, the auspicious saucer would undoubtedly tip her mother off that she had done more fooling around. Part of her always wondered if Cersei knew.
"I can resolve this. Give me a few moons and you shall be back in King's Landing, at my side, where you belong," Cersei continued, perched upon the chair, the perfect picture of cruel elegance. She made a fitting evil queen and Lelia knew there was no fairer woman than her. Perhaps Daenerys did rival her, but until Lelia put eyes on her—if she was fortunate to live that long—she had her doubts.
"Mother," Lelia tempered carefully. She knew to walk on eggshells around Cersei when it came to broaching certain topics. As much as she nagged on Robert's wrath, she had just as terrible a fury as he did. "I am not displeased with this arrangement."
Cersei's eyes flashed, darting them over her daughter, drinking in every minute detail. "I'll have no daughter of mine marry a filthy northerner."
"Who else would you have me marry?" Lelia begged desperately. "Who passes your impossible standards?" The words nearly slipped from her mouth: another Lannister? But that would reveal her hand and be a cruel jab when her mother was only looking out for her. She knew Cersei wasn't a perfect mother, but even being fully aware of all the woman had done, Lelia couldn't help but still bear affection for the woman who had done her damndest to raise her.
"Perhaps… A Westerling or–"
"A bannerman of the Lannisters is too far beneath my station, you know that, and grandmother was a Westerling. It's a bit too soon to be remarrying into their line," Lelia countered quickly, switching from the whining young adult to the critical lawyer of her past life. "The only suitable houses would need to be major. House Tyrell, their eldest is crippled and the other two sons are not first born. House Tully, while Lord Edwyn is a bit older than me, he would also be a suitable match if you're worried about distance. House Martell, though the prince is a little younger than me. House Arryn…" she didn't need to elaborate on the last. "Where would you have me go, mother?"
Cersei searched her brain for an answer, but logically, Lelia's argument was sound. House Stark would treat her the best because of Eddard's relationship with Robert. That was not to say she would be treated poorly elsewhere, only that Robb was the closest in age to her and courteous. "I hate it. I loathe how far you will be from me. If anything happens–"
"The Starks will protect me," Lelia soothed.
"Do not put too much faith in men," Cersei lashed out hotly. "I once gazed up at Robert with those same round eyes and look where I am now."
"Our situations are different," Lelia assured her. "Would you like to list how?"
"No," Cersei sniffed, aware that Lelia would begin dissecting every tiny bit of information and bring it up as evidence to squash down any counterargument that she had. After all, Lelia had done it before. Standing up, Cersei approached her daughter, looking her up and down with a gaze too vulnerable and open to belong to that of the cutthroat lion that cared for no one but her children and twin. In moments like that, Lelia almost forgot that Cersei was a terrible person. "I will send you the newest silks and brocade. Spices, perfumes, anything you desire. Just because you are not in King's Landing, doesn't mean you'll go without luxuries."
Lelia let out a soft laugh. "You know I have never cared much for such vanities, mother."
"I'll still send them," she grinned deviously. "Make the rest of this country dullards that parade around as 'ladies' feel envious."
Whether that was supposed to be impressive or make her excited, Lelia forced a smile and nodded. Nothing about that sounded pleasant. All she needed was the scrutiny of northern ladies that couldn't afford to have such items shipped north. Perhaps she could have them gifted to Sansa or something…
"Let me help you get ready," Cersei offered. "It will be the last time until your wedding until I get to do so for a final time."
The smile fell off her face and Lelia fumbled on an excuse. "Oh that's quite alright–"
"I insist, I wish to have a few moments of peace with you before I have to sit in that wretched wheelhouse all the way back to King's Landing," Cersei asserted, drawing her child away from the dresser she had poised herself in front of. Focusing entirely on not falling over, Lelia had no choice but to leave the teacup behind. For a second, the queen did not notice it, retrieving one of the lovely dresses that Lelia owned before turning around. Gazing past her, her eyes honed in on the cup and then narrowed. Cersei took all but two seconds to compute what she was observing and her brows pulled together, her lips following suit a moment after. "Lelia."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Yes, mother?" she did her best to sound as if she wasn't guilty.
"What is that?" Cersei pointed to the saucer.
"Hm?" she turned, peering at the cup. "Oh. Tea from last night. I told the servant to just go."
"Is it now?" Cersei challenged, taking a few long strides, overtaking Lelia's weak, clumsy limbs before she snatched it up and took a sniff. "Odd that it smells exactly like moon tea."
"That is odd," Lelia agreed, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck.
Cersei rounded, wagging the cup as it dangled on the tip of her index finger. "Do not tell me that you fucked the Stark boy."
"Ok, I didn't," Lelia lied blatantly.
Cersei roared, throwing the cup against the wall, shattering the painted porcelain to bits and pieces. "I have put up with your traipsing around, but this?"
She did know. Lelia had suspected that her mother and/or uncles might know. "I'm betrothed to him."
"So you open your legs immediately?" Cersei snapped. "I have been cleaning up your messes, but I cannot clean up Robb Stark. What you have done… Lelia you have condemned yourself. I cannot do anything to save you short of ordering an assassination," she had dropped her voice into a furious whisper.
Lelia's heart clenched and she shook her head vigorously. "Mother, please don't. He's going to treat me well. I had to. I had to."
"He forced you?" Cersei's face twisted further, clutching Lelia's arm so tightly that she was biting marks into her skin.
"No! I meant… That I needed him to think he took my maidenhood," Lelia explained quietly. "I even bled a little bit afterward, so he must have thought that was my maidenhood."
Cersei's nostrils were flaring, but after a few seconds she blinked. "That… was clever. Very clever. Of course. You're my daughter. You'd think of every possibility and that was a wise decision but–" her expression was agony as she captured Lelia's face between her hands. "That means you must stay here. The Starks are honorable to the point of stupidity. Robb Stark will marry you out of duty now. While it was a smart move, I wish you had consulted me first."
A smart move. Lelia's cheeks flushed with shame. She did not feel that it was all a calculated chess board. Robb and her had talked about options and suggested having sex eventually, but they had both gotten carried away. He had known what it meant to do this, but it also benefited her to have an excuse for her broken hymen. After all, they'd had penetrative sex. Maybe one day she'd have the gall to come clean to Robb. He did deserve that.
"What did you mean that you have been 'cleaning up my messes'?" Lelia backtracked, the hands leaving her face as she drank in a deep breath.
"Where do you think those soldiers went?" Cersei challenged.
"Their orders changed… I assumed back to Casterly Rock–" Lelia suggested logically.
Cersei's cold, predatory smile made her blood go cold. "Yes, back to Casterly Rock, where they'll never breathe a word about their time… protecting the princess."
Lelia's stomach turned and she thought of the tan skinned, dark haired Karden. She had not loved him, but he was still a person. If she had known that her mother would have them murdered to keep the secret of her virginity within that room, she wouldn't have done it. Yet, she'd done it multiple times. How many soldiers was that? 5, 8, 10? She held back her tears, suddenly aware that she had blood on her hands. Perhaps she had never been in a battle, but she was not innocent.
I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. They were Lannister soldiers. I figured… I figured…. I'm a fucking idiot, Lelia realized, abruptly humbled by the fact that she wasn't as untouchable as she had assumed she was. The illusion of her perfect intelligence was shattered and Lelia realized that she hadn't been protecting herself, but her mother had been. This resulted in the deaths of nearly a dozen men that Lelia had fooled around with. What kind of rumors circulated in King's Landing? While she had spies, people rarely gave her the time of day past basic pleasantries. Did they know soldiers went missing? Or did they just not care about the Red Cloaks?
Her mother's ministrations rolled over her as Cersei helped prepare her for the departure of the royal party. Lelia was so disconnected from it that she didn't notice any conversation, nor where the time went as her mother brushed through her tresses adoringly. How could she be so chipper after admitting that she'd had all those men killed?
Lelia jolted at the sound of a knock on her door. Part of her panicked, an irrational fear that if her mother saw Robb that she'd rip his throat out. Obviously, that wouldn't happen, yet it crossed her mind. Why wouldn't Cersei orchestrate it? She had managed to kill several less important soldiers without even rousing Lelia's suspicion.
Stumbling to her feet, Lelia opened the door to find Robb outside. Her face must have given away her distress, the Stark glancing past her to notice her mother who apprised him with a glower.
"Good morning, your graces," Robb greeted cordially.
"Just… a minute," Lelia closed the door in his face before turning back to her mother. "Will you kill me if we get married before a year? If the truth comes out to Lord Stark prior to that date?" she suggested in a whisper, uncertain when Robert would die and possibly jeopardize her life there. She would not put it past Joffrey to order her back if she wasn't married to Robb.
The displeasure rolling off her mother was palpable. Yet, despite her arrogance, she was intelligent enough to comprehend Lelia's suggestion. When Eddard found out, it was likely he would incur the wrath of the Crown to avoid revealing that Robb had 'stolen' her purity before marriage. Of course, that would be assumed later, at which point they'd already be married when word spread and it wouldn't matter.
"Only and only if I am allowed to celebrate another in King's Landing with a proper Septon," Cersei demanded in a hiss.
There was a Septon in Winterfell, though she bit her tongue and nodded. Whether this would actually happen or if relations would deteriorate so much that Lelia feared for the health of the Starks to send them south to possible doom, she could not predict. Not only had she delayed the events of the original story by a few years of casual meddling, now she was changing it enormously. Bran had not fallen. The Lannisters would be tied to the Starks and thus have no reason to go to war with them. Eddard would live. Tyrion wouldn't be taken prisoner as a suspect for planning an assassination of a lame Bran.
"Of course, mother," Lelia agreed easily.
"Come, let's not keep your betrothed any longer," Cersei waved.
Finally departing from her room, Lelia had to focus on each footfall to deliberately plant and not step onto part of her injured soles. Today was not a good day. She watched as her mother sized Robb up yet another time, this time fully privy to the fact that Robb had taken her yesterday. The Stark was stoic, first offering his arm to the queen. "If you would honor me, your grace, please allow me to escort you through Winterfell to your carriage."
Cersei eyed the arm and then flicked her eyes to her daughter. "Not your betrothed?"
Why are you picking a fight? Lelia wanted to whine.
"I have two arms," Robb reminded her smoothly.
Cersei's mouth twitched, yet she did not smile. Finally, she accepted Robb's arm, to which he then deigned to give his remaining to Lelia. The stroll through to the courtyard of Winterfell was not agonizing because of her feet. While those did pain her, it was the tense silence they glided in and she wondered if Robb suspected that the reason Cersei glared daggers at him was because she knew.
The farewell was dry and awkward. Robert barely wished to look Eddard in the eye as he gave a half hearted goodbye before piling into his wheelhouse. Aside from the royal party, Lelia noticed Uncle Tyrion saddling up beside Jon Snow and Benjen Stark. She wished there was a way to slip a word to Benjen that might save his life, but hadn't thought of it until she laid eyes on him.
After hugging her siblings and mother once more, she wondered if this was the last she'd see of any of them. Deep down, she hoped it would be. While she wished no ill for Tommen or Myrcella, she knew that the prophecy still existed and that it was unlikely they would be spared. Blinking back a few tears, Lelia wished she had never come here. Perhaps she should have drowned and never woke up.
The woman appeared in her dreams every night. Each evening was different, but always up on that stormy mountain where the chill weather began to feel normal. Lelia actually started to enjoy the frigid wind that she drank in, filling her lungs with icy vigor and the din of the rumbling thunder that sounded like the striking of a hammer on an anvil. The strangest part about all of this was that any injury she sustained in those dreams translated to reality. While this was dangerous, as Lelia couldn't trust any dream, this also meant that each muscle she honed, she found strengthened when she woke up. Each night of sleep felt like a week of training within that dreamscape, as if time didn't flow the same. Magic did exist in this realm. Her very existence was proof of that.
She wondered if this had to do with Bran's health. He had not fallen. Would he not become the Three Eyed Raven? Was the raven that flew above her related to the viking and Odin or was it related to the Old Gods? It had never known close enough for her to observe its 3rd eye, though Lelia kept a sharp fixation on where it was. Regardless of which entity had taken favor in her, she was forced to train with the woman she didn't understand. What the purpose of this, she had no idea. However, the previous soul from Earth was delighted to be making gains without having to betray the vigorous training that she partook in while she slept.
Lelia looked in the mirror and couldn't help but love her honed muscles. She already lacked in the chest department and it wasn't as if this made her look more masculine. In fact, she thought this balance out the strength in her arms from archery, giving her a move defined ass and thighs.
Of course, all of this was just a distraction. Robb had been distant since their shared moment in the Godswood. She suspected he felt conflicted over what he had done and found excuses to be busy. At least, that was what Lelia told herself. There was no reason that Robb couldn't spare time with his betrothed, right?
That's a shallow way to think of it. He does have duties, Lelia pouted from the window, ignoring her needlework as Sansa, Jeyne, and Beth gossiped. She fucking hated needlework. She would have preferred reading a book or being outside. The weather was growing cold and Lelia discovered she wasn't half as disappointed to leave the warmth of the south. What were the men talking about? Here, she didn't have spies. In fact, she hadn't been left with a single guard. Apparently, Eddard had talked her parents out of the idea that it would be necessary.
How many days had passed? Aside from her training in the morning with Arya and Bran, her time was monotonous. By now, a few weeks skipped by and she felt neglected. Maybe she had made a mistake putting so much faith in Robb all at once.
"Isn't that right, Princess Lelia?" Sansa asked.
"Hm?" Lelia straightened and glanced back toward the girls.
"We were just discussing courtly fashion and what features are favored most," Beth elaborated quickly.
"Features?" Lelia repeated.
"Comeliness," Jeyne giggled behind her hand.
Arya was silent, glaring at her shoddy work. Lelia's wasn't much better.
"What were you referring to when you asked me 'isn't that right'?" Lelia sought clarification.
"Someone such as yourself is considered a great beauty, you must have had any admirers," Sansa explained. "You have an oval shaped face, angular high cheekbones, a dainty nose, pretty eyes—we were suggesting that a long face and dull coloring wasn't really in favor."
Lelia didn't have to read between the lines, she knew that the girls were offhandedly teasing Arya, who had never quite fit in with them. They were comparing apples to oranges. "One of the greatest beauties Westeros ever knew, a war was waged over. One that our fathers fought in," she told them sternly. "I hear that Lady Arya rather resembles your late aunt."
"W-well, we did not mean–" Sansa backpedaled, her cheeks flushing at the tone of the princess's voice.
"What did you mean then?" she reproached the three with a hard look. "It is distasteful to mock someone to their face and shameful to do it behind their back whilst they cannot defend themselves. Lady Arya, would you like to go for a walk?"
Arya peered up, still a bit flustered, but not half as much as the other three gossiping nellies. They were horrified that Lelia had called them out on their poor behavior and Sansa was nearly shaking. "T-that sounds nice," she agreed, tossing the needlework aside.
"The Septa wanted you to stay here," Beth broke in spitefully.
"Tell the Septa she is with me," Lelia responded, tucking her work into her basket. The Septa had left the children in her care while she took an afternoon break. She knew that the Septa had meant for her to look out for Arya, as the other three were content to spend their time with one another.
Leading Arya out of the room with Nymeria in tow, they started through the halls, a lapse of silence passing between them before the girl spoke up. "You didn't have to say that."
"Say what?" Lelia inquired.
"That I look like Lyanna. It's not true."
"How do you know that?" Lelia asked her lightly.
"How would you know either? You weren't even born when she died," Arya pointed out.
"And? You're more comely than you give yourself credit for, Arya. You will never have vibrant auburn hair or Tully blue eyes, but that does not make you ugly," she sighed, ruffling the girl's messy hair. "I did not lie. I have heard that."
Arya frowned. "How do you do it?"
"To what do you refer to?" Lelia hummed as they wandered.
"How can you stand to be betrothed? I don't want to get married. I want to learn how to fight and adventure. I don't want to be a wife locked up in a castle being forced to have several children," Arya explained moodily.
"Maybe I don't stand it, maybe I just tolerate it," Lelia challenged impishly. "Let me let you in on a little secret," she suggested, bending down to whisper in the girl's ear. "Men are stupid. They need a woman telling them what to do."
Arya smiled for a brief second. "You think Robb is stupid?"
"Not completely," Lelia assured her. "But give it time and your brother will be even more clever the longer I spend here."
"Should I be worried that the two of you are plotting something?"
Both females stiffened, turning to see Robb prowling down the hall as if the sheer mention of him had summoned his presence. Lelia quickly did her best not to display her delight in that fact that he seemed to have a moment.
"Very," Arya grinned wickedly.
Lelia placed a hand on her decolletage and gasped. "What? Oh no, of course not," before bending back down to Arya. "You can't let him know or he'll try and ruin our plans," she whispered much too loud.
Arya snickered as Robb joined them.
"Hopefully nothing that will give mother a heart attack," Robb reproached whimsically.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Arya feigned, peering at her fingernails.
Robb's mouth quirked. "Do you mind if I steal my betrothed, Arya?"
Arya gave him a grumpy glare, crossing her arms. "I'm not going back to needlework."
"Don't go looking for trouble," Robb told her.
Arya preened, delighted that her elder brother was not sending her back. She skipped down the hall, disappearing around a corner to do Gods knew what. Of course, Arya would get berated once the Septa realized she was not working on her needlepoint. However, she suspected the girl did not care.
"I was beginning to believe you forgot that I was staying here," Lelia attempted to make it sound like a joke, but the inflection of her true hurt over his neglect glimmered through. She knew that things were not cut and dry here, that there were innumerable facets that should be taken into consideration, but she thought Robb would have found the time if he really wished to. The fact that he hadn't made her anxious. Had he heard about her past? Was he consumed by guilt over what they had done in the Godswood? Lelia searched his face as if the answer would be written upon it.
Robb was infuriatingly stoic when he chose to be. "We should speak in private," he asserted, taking her hand in his and guiding her through the hallways.
Her anxiety hitched, the ambiguous suggestion causing sweat to bead at the back of her neck. What an awful thing to say. Not that it was hurtful, but it was absolutely nerverwracking to agonize over each step as she wondered what he was going to reveal. What if purity was more important for Robb than she believed? What if he was going to courteously break off the engagement and he'd just needed time to sort his thoughts?
Gearing up for a fight, Lelia began running down her mind, creating a list of reasons why Robb shouldn't send her back to King's Landing.
Winterfell was enormous and a good majority of the rooms that were within were not utilized. There were a few lesser noble families that dwelled within the keep, like Jeyne's family, the Pooles. Daily needlework took place in the main building, the Great Keep, which was also where House Stark dwelled as well and where Lelia's chambers had been relocated to from the Guest House. Yet, despite the amount of people who did live here, there were still vacancies from a time where there had been a much larger family that dwelled within the halls.
Robb opened one of the many empty chambers. The furniture was covered with sheets to keep away the dust and light from the sun from bleaching fabric on furniture. A layer of silt still laid upon everything, little fractals stirring as the door was hastily shut behind them and the sun peeked eagerly through the slats in the shades.
Lelia was still steeling herself when the gentle, calloused hand within hers shifted. Her back met the wall abruptly, a little huff parting her lips as her eyes widened before Robb pressed his mouth against hers. All the tension and trepidation she'd felt seconds ago melted away.
Her palms splayed on the stone, which wasn't cool to the touch despite the room being unutilized. Instead, it was warm from the copper pipes obscured beneath, blossoming against her back as she tried to catch her breath amidst her alarm. The scratching of his beard frayed at the edges of her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as she enjoyed the affection she had so desperately craved. In a way, Lelia was a whore. Just like her mother, who fucked her brother.
Void of true companionship outside of her own family, Lelia had found other ways to attempt filling the abyss. They were shallow and superficial, but the momentarily slips were pauses-breaks in the intricate symphony where Lelia could indulge and feel as if she had choices in her life and it was dictated by this awful, patriarchal society.
Thus, Lelia was a glutton for Robb's attention, because it came not only with physical intimacy, but personal.
Already, her body was beginning to turn on her, core becoming molten hot as Robb's tongue lathed hers, slipping deeper into her mouth as if he wanted to possess it. She let him, moaning at the delightful sensation, putty in his hands and as much as she hated to admit it-she'd do whatever he asked if he'd entertain her, rough her around, but also love her.
Yet he broke away, going no further than the passionate kissing. Her eyes flitted open and she observed him, his beard having gotten a little thicker over the weeks, his eyes a beautiful, vibrant blue that stood out like an alpine lake against a dark mountain forest at sunset. She didn't know how Joffrey had said he was burly and brutish. Lelia thought he was exceptionally handsome and more masculine than any of the flouncing knights of the south.
"I've been very busy," he told her, brushing a hand back through his curls, turning away to leave Lelia flustered and breathless against the wall. "There has been an influx of wildlings coming south and the Night's Watch has been struggling. My uncle, Benjen, explained as much when he came down for the feast. As you might be aware, there are 19 castles along the wall, though there have never been more than 17 manned at once. Today, only 3 of them as utilized by the small force that is the Night's Watch. At one point, patrol between the castles used to be more regular, but as the numbers of the Watch diminished, so did these patrols.
"The topic of possibly giving newer lords the other holdfasts to maintain and manage has been brought back into discussions but..."
"It's never that easy," Lelia finished.
"No, while some lords are more than willing to be given a keep, they're also asking for land beyond the Wall. The issue with this is that the men are not comprehending their lack of ability to get beyond the Wall and that they may not necessarily want that added responsibility. Many have seen the Wall, but few nobles have gone beyond it lest they've join the Watch," Robb nodded, leaning on the edge of a table that was covered.
"How bad are the wildling breaches?" Lelia inquired, wondering where they were in regards to her knowledge. She knew that this happened here and there, some tenacious wildlings would find a way to scale the Wall and try to flee south.
"Worse than usual. They must have found a way to make it easier to scale the Wall in a certain region, although the Night's Watch hasn't been able to discern where. They're stretched too thin."
"What is the plan then?" Lelia knew that there was more to this.
"To meet at Last Hearth. Several others houses that dwell further north also plan to convene there. I have been tied up with the preparations on my father's behalf. He has given me the responsibility to act in his stead at the Umbers'. I have been putting together suggestions for which lords should man which castles along the wall, although I know there will be arguments about it regardless," Robb sighed, the tense line in his shoulders telling her all she needed to. He had been consumed by responsibility and the reason she hadn't seen him was because they unfortunately didn't share a bedchamber at the end of the day where she could have these conversations with him.
"When are you leaving?" Lelia clasped her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting.
"Within a few days," Robb didn't quite look miserable. He did look tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, but his expression was difficult to gauge.
"Can I come with you?" Lelia inquired. A ride north to Last Hearth wasn't particularly dangerous and she would be safe within the care of House Umber if she couldn't convince Robb to take her further.
"N-" he started to say 'no' but caught himself. "I will discuss it with my father."
Lelia trotted over to lean against the table next to him. "I do know how to defend myself," she reminded him, wondering if she could somehow requisition an axe or a sword, which she had been training with in her dreams. Maybe she could convince Bran to steal one for her. Or Arya. Although, she'd feel bad if either got in trouble. Perhaps she could coerce Jory or Robb, if he did let her come and she wasn't intending on taking no for an answer. "And Last Hearth would be safe for me. It would do me well to get more acquainted with the North and your bannermen, no?"
Robb pursed his lips. She had delivered a good point and she couldn't hide the satisfied smirk. His dark lashes narrowed around his vibrant eyes and he observed her, studying her for a beat, her heart thundering like the skies of the mountain-scape from her dreams. "Did you not hear me say that wildlings have been a problem?"
"I am quite certain I could handle a few wildlings," Lelia snorted, crossing her arms indignantly. This was all speculation. She had never been in a real fight before, although she couldn't innocently claim she'd never killed a man. She had the blood of 10 on her hands, even if such information only just recently came to light.
"Perhaps you can, but that is not a risk I would like to take," Robb eventually told her, frustration creeping into Lelia's throat.
"Why?" she challenged hotly.
Robb arched a brow. "Because you're a woman, Lelia. Despite what opinion you have of yourself, you're smaller and weaker than even my shortest knight."
A true statement, though it wounded her pride regardless. Maybe things had changed after these eons of training. While only weeks had passed since she had time with Robb alone, it seemed like months because of the strange flow between dream and reality. "Test me then," she told him, keeping her chin high, refusing to buckle beneath his stubborn will. "You already know I can shoot. What would make you feel better? If I knew how to fight in close quarters? Use a sword or a shield?"
"All things you do not know how to do and nor have the time to start learning now," Robb pointed out.
"Actually," she chimed spitefully. "I do know how." This was a gamble. Lelia had never put any of her dream skills to test. Sure, she felt more athletic and muscular, but she had never proven herself. For all she knew, she was going mad trapped in her own head and this was all an illusion. "I-I wasn't completely forthcoming. I have picked up a sword before. I just... my mother didn't know."
Robb scrutinized her, each second ticking by grating further on her delicate patience. He stood up, facing her, towering over her before he reached for the hilt of his sword. He drew the weapon from its sheathe, flipped it around, balancing the flat of the fuller on his fingertips. "Humor me, then."
She had not practiced much with a longsword. In fact, she'd compare the viking woman's sword more to a broad sword than this. But, the female made her test out many weapons, not so much as to see which Lelia had a niche for, but moreso to make certain she was proficient in all of them. "The sword was usually a bit shorter," she grumbled, but accepted the weight.
Swords were not as heavy as they seemed. At least, not anymore. It was the balance of the weight that took strength, being able to swing and not unbalance your footwork. Clenching her core, Lelia turned the sword over, placing two hands on the hilt and spreading her legs to root herself to the ground. She didn't know what Robb was looking for. This was weird, she had no partner, she was just standing there awkwardly.
After studying her, Robb drew his dagger from his belt. "You have the advantage with reach," he told her, stepping a few paces away. "Prove to me your words are not wind."
Licking her lips, she flashed him a wild, chaotic smile, bending down to tie up the hem of her dress a little higher. She didn't care how improper it looked, revealing her calves to her knees, Robb had already taken her and they were hidden in this room. She wished her hair was braided too rather than down, noticing that maybe she ought to make a routine of fastening her hair in a more practical manner.
When she was ready, she returned, roaming her eyes over Robb's guard. She had little advantage aside from reach. He was severely out of her weight class. Even with her gained muscle, there would be no contest. The blonde woman had always made a point to teach Lelia not to show fear, to scream in the faces of her foes, and charge in with confidence. People feared such confidence. Lelia knew she wasn't half as intimidating as her, but she did her best, leaving the warcry out this one time.
Robb glanced her first blow, turning it down and away. Lelia darted back, hefting the sword back up, unwilling to let him get closer. A dagger was quicker and this sword was not her favorite to wield. He did not give her time to readjust or scheme. Instead, he pursue her steps as she moved backward, trying to prove that her size would get her killed. Lelia wouldn't have it. She stood her ground, beginning to swing the sword to cut Robb's pursuit off, forcing him to defend. If she could just get the dagger in the right spot, it would be easier to rip from his hands than a sword.
Their fight became a churning movement in a circle, a dance of tenacity and stamina. Her confidence faltered, realizing that even if she did know how to fight now, her muscles reacting instinctively, Robb had years upon years of training on her. He was a well oiled, honed machine.
He ended the folly eventually, as the length of the battle made Lelia drip with sweat. Parrying another blow, he stepped within her guard, seizing her hands which shook around the hilt of the sword in effort. Ripping it from her clammy palms, he snatched the sword clean from her grip. Lelia let out a frustration roar, taking the chuck of her palm before she slammed it into his wrist, sending the dagger clattering from his other hand. She then shoved him.
He had the sword now, but she had a second to dive for the dagger.
"Lelia, it's over," he turned the sword around.
"Is it?" she panted, twirling the dagger over her knuckles, still shaking from the exertion. "I could end it right now."
Robb gave her a hard look.
"Would you like me to prove it?"
"You look as if you're about to faint."
"See that there?" Lelia lifted her opposite hand to pointed at shadow on the wall, where a picture frame once hung. "Right in the center. I'm calling it now."
"Calling what-"
Lelia rounded and threw the dagger. She had never been more proud of the way it rotated through the air before plunking with a satisfying thud into the wall right where she had pointed. "That could have been your smug face."
She ran a hand back through her damp tresses. There was still more work to be done, strength to gain, abilities to hone. But she was not displeased by her performance. The dreams were translating to reality, she was growing more powerful. Whatever magic this was, she was satisfied.
Robb sheathed his sword, retrieving his dagger next. "You are full of surprises, princess," he commended. "But just because you can fight, doesn't mean you should."
Lelia hissed her fury, fingers curling at her sides. "I didn't ask to be placed on the front against the wildlings. I only asked to accompany you."
"And you have made a compelling point, you are a capable warrior, albeit untested," Robb settled the second blade into place. "I can see why King Robert so desperately wished you had been born a man."
"Now you're being intentionally cruel," Lelia grumbled, resigning to cross her arms.
He came up to her, brushing a few wet strands away that were sticking to her face. "If you were a man, I'd worry considerably less," he sighed. "The truth of it is, that if you were ever on the field, even if by accident, any seasoned warrior would go after you. The wildlings are feral. I-the thought of them coming close to touching you, to taking you away-" the man in front of her quaked with thinly veiled wrath at the idea that she'd be raped and possibly turned into a slave. "You would be safe here."
"So you'd lock me up just like my family," Lelia accused, batting his hand away. "I'm bored Robb. You're too busy for me. I'm not allowed to go riding on my own and the guards won't take me either. I know it's not my place since we're not married yet, but it would be nice to be included in some matters."
"I could discuss with my mother about having you help with her duties."
Womanly duties. Topics that didn't interest her. Not right now anyways. Perhaps when she had children and wanted to remain home, she'd be fine to delegate such tasks, but now she was young, able-bodied, and had a wanderlust that Robb could sate should he take the chance and give her the opportunity to prove she was capable.
"This is life in Winterfell, Lelia. It's not always the most eventful," Robb informed her wearily.
"It doesn't have to be that way," she reminded him. "Please, Robb."
One more hard look and his resolve crumpled. He let out a soft laugh and shook his head, clearly still perplexed with her. "You're trouble. What am I going to do with you?"
"Never let me wander too far," Lelia pointed out, finally relaxing.
"It is not as if I do not wish you there," Robb admitted, daring to touch her once more, the original reservation having diminished almost entirely in the wake of their official betrothal and consequently their misstep in the Godswood. She did not shy away. The affection was warm and welcomed. He placed his palm against her cheek and she leaned into it, closing her eyes as she savored his proximity. As much as Lelia liked to think she was in control of herself, moments like this made it blatant that she relied too much on Robb to feed her the attention she craved. "I just worry about your wellbeing. You cannot fault me for that."
"I can resent it," Lelia quipped impishly. "You know I'm not a delicate, weak princess. I can help you. Support you by your side. We're not Lord and Lady of Winterfell yet. I don't need to be bound here."
"I know," Robb muttered, his hand slipped from her face down her neck, curling around her shoulder to tug her closer. "It would be wise to familiarize yourself with the other lords of the North," he admitted grudgingly, pressing her close to him, drawing her body against his chest. He too seemed to have missed her closeness, getting a small taste only to quit cold turkey immediately after. The longing had built up in the Stark and his promises were not just wind. Not that she had ever believed that.
"You do not wish for them to see me again, do you?" Lelia laughed, realizing that the wildlings were partially an excuse.
"No," he tempered. "I just do not believe that we'll have many opportunities to be close outside of Winterfell. It's easy to find a place to hide here, but on the road? In another lord's home?"
"If it were so easy, you would have sought me out sooner," Lelia snarked.
"I deserve a berating," Robb admitted, a calloused thumb drawing beneath her chin, tilting her head up toward him. "Since that evening, I... A lot was going through my head and there was never a moment to address it."
Lelia gazed up into his beautiful eyes, finding herself drowning in the blue depths, not surprised that Jeyne Westerling had so easily fallen for him in an alternate universe. "I thought you regretted it and that was why you were distant."
"Aye and nay," Robb countered. "At first, I was in shock over what I had done. I was worried that I forced your hand. That you didn't necessarily want that then and you couldn't say no. I don't think you feel that way, but I must know to clear my conscience. Please be honest with me, that night, I did not force you did I?"
Lelia was astonished, her eyes widening at the man's introspection or the fact that he cared to think so deeply about their circumstances and his initial engaging of the action. She had given him permission, but she could also understand why he thought she might have felt pressured against her will to accept what was happening. She was a woman. If Robb wanted to use her, he was entitled to once they were married. With the discussion about doing something earlier to secure her position in the North as his wife, the insinuation clearly meant that Lelia was fine with having sex with Robb earlier, quickly going back on her words that it needn't be now to no one could know.
She had paused too long, up in her own head as she was astounded that Robb would feel guilty over that. Most men would not have.
"It did bother you," Robb deduced with a brooding scowl.
"No!" Lelia butt in quickly before he could draw anymore negative inferences. "I... am just surprised you care."
"Why would I not?" Robb frowned. "Your comfort with me matters."
"Clearly, I'm comfortable with you," Lelia drawled dryly, gesturing to their proximity as she leaned against him. "I all but begged to come with you on your trip north."
"I dishonored you, Lelia. It doesn't matter that you gave me permission. I acted like an overly eager boy, not a man with responsibilities and a duty to you," Robb sighed. "Our first time... it should not have been like that. You deserve more than a quick rut in the woods."
"You have plenty of time to impress me further," Lelia reminded him with a warm, gentle smile, reaching up to run her fingers along his beard covered jaw. "A lifetime, hopefully. Try not to brood on what cannot be undone."
Robb continued to brood for a second, though his brows eventually relaxed. "You are rather unbothered by the entire situation," he commented offhandedly, which prickled the hairs on the back of her neck.
"I did not wish to go back to King's Landing. As I've said, there is no point in wasting energy in dwelling on what has already been done," Lelia asserted quickly. A lady's honor and virtue was her most valuable asset. While it was not Lelia's most valuable, especially since she had no virtue even before arriving in Winterfell, she knew that she would be able to broker her value if it ever came down to that. "I put my faith in you, Robb. To take care of me and to bring up what we have done at the right time."
"Then you can understand the anxiety I do feel," he reminded her duly. He shifted the subject, as they'd hung onto it for too long. "Did you like it?"
"Well, as you put it so gracefully before, something along the lines of 'a quick rut in the woods'-" that made his face go red with embarrassment, "-it hurt a bit. You penetrated me without any preparation and it was dry and chafed initially."
"Preparation," Robb murmured. "What would you have me do differently next time?"
Lelia eased a smile. "How much time do you have now?"
Robb paused, considering her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he considered his availability. Then, he stepped away, strolling to the door where he secured the latch and locked it. This should have been done earlier. Returning to her, he placed his hands on her waist, fingers curling possessively around her flesh. "Enough for a short lesson."
Lelia slipped his grasp, finding the most suitable piece of furniture to explain. A table or a chair. Lelia opted for the higher option, pushing back the sheet to prop herself up on the edge. "I think," Lelia started delicately and deliberately choosing her words and phrasing as her heart began to pound in her ears. "That if it had been a bit more... wet, it would have been pleasant for the both of us. I can't imagine it felt good to push against me when I was not ready." Slowly, she hitched the rest of her hem, drawing it up over her knees until higher and higher it went. She placed one foot on the table after kicking off a boot, blushing as Robb's eyes traced her critically, like a wolf stalking prey from the shadows. The fabric fell against the table behind her, revealing her underclothes. Admittedly, she was a bit wet just from prostrating like this.
"There are different ways to..." her voice cracked, her hands shaking slightly in anticipation as she tugged on the fabric. "Help?"
"Did it only hurt?" Robb's eyes were between her legs, but his concern was elsewhere.
"No, it did feel good once you had made a couple of passes," she told him.
"If I lasted longer, do you think that you would also climax? I have heard that the rougher a man is, the harder he goes, the more a woman likes it."
Lelia frowned. "What?" But she couldn't say too much without revealing her experience.
"I have heard a woman can also climax."
"Not by being fucked until she can't walk," Lelia blurted out plainly. "I mean, sometimes that's what a woman wants, and it's fine, but not always. I was quite sore after last time because of how hard you took me. It's not pleasant to have an aching groin for a day."
He stepped toward her and Lelia subconsciously drew her legs in, flinching as she forced herself to stop. "I'm sorry."
"You had no idea," Lelia scoffed, waving his apology away.
"What would feel good? Going slow? Anything in particular?" Robb pursued.
Sucking her lip, she wondered if it were wise to suggest further. She didn't think that Robb was the type to go chatting about their trysts, especially since they were not married. "Penetration isn't really the route to go," Lelia caved, deciding to throw all caution to the wind.
"No?"
"Would you think less of me if I told you that I know how to pleasure myself?" Lelia inquired.
Robb laughed, rich and fullbodied. "I cannot claim I have not done the same."
Drinking a nervous breath, especially beneath the scrutiny of such a handsome man that she was actually worried about maintaining a good relationship with, she drew her legs back together to begin shimmying her underclothes off. Just as she reached her ankles, she realized that Robb had gotten even closer. Her skin was on fire by this point and she didn't know why. In both this life and her last, she'd been with plenty of men. Lelia was not shy. She knew what she liked. While obtaining that was difficult in this realm, she'd still never been coy when it came to demanding what she wanted or displaying that she was comfortable in her own skin.
Yet, before Robb, she felt... strange. Exhilterated and nervous, which she really shouldn't have. He was inexperienced and willing to learn, which was so much more than she could ever ask for. She should have been more... overzealous? More brazen? Oddly, she didn't feel like she was the one in control. There was something nervewracking about that.
"May I?" he had halted just as he was about to brush her foot, lifting his gaze to pierce her with those brilliant pools.
There was something incredibly sexy about the consent he requested and Lelia nodded mutely. He captured her ankle gently, hooking his thumb in the thin fabric before pulling the rest down. He returned, softly prising her legs, pressing his mouth along her calf, making her shiver, gooseflesh rising along her skin. Burning a path up to the more sensitive flesh on the inside of her thighs, Lelia's neck lolled as she let out soft huffs, leaning back into her palms as she held herself up on the table.
"So," Robb drew her attention back. "What is it that I should do?"
Lelia's face was undoubtedly scarlet, abashed by his casual conversation between her legs. "Uhm-" her voice crackled yet again and she lifted one hand. "For me, the most sensitive spot is here," she gestured to the tiny bundle of nerves at her apex. "With wet fingers, rubbing along it in a circular motion or up and down would feel wonderful."
"I do not believe I have ever seen your face so red before," Robb remarked, making her face heat further.
"I'm giving a lesson with you talking to my cunt, I think it's acceptable if I'm a bit flustered," Lelia retorted quickly.
Robb chuckled, the pads of his fingers scratching against her. She winced, shifting uncomfortably as he observed her reactions. Licking his fingers, he tried again. Honestly, his fingers were incredibly calloused. It would take more than a bit of saliva to chase away the roughness. Still, he did try.
"It doesn't feel good, does it?" Robb observed.
"Not for lack of trying," she assured him. "Your hands are just so rough."
What he did next made her yelp. Robb leaned forward and took her apex between his lips. He gripped her thighs, forcing her to keep them open as he began experimenting with different movements. First he sucked, which had alarmed her but didn't necessarily feel great. Then he began small passes that were featherlight. Lelia shivered, rewarding him with a quiet moan. Growing more confident in what he was doing, the ministrations continued, shifting from light to deliberate. The soft slick of his tongue was not only damp, but warm and silken, to which fingers would never compare.
Eventually, Lelia had to stifle her pleasure, biting her lip as her throat hummed with the satisfaction, the welling heat that twisted in her core, vibrating with each stroke as he brought her closer and closer until the air whooshed from her chest and her core clutched. Sucking in air amidst the twitching delight, a whine crackled in the back of her throat and the euphoria was chased by oversensitivity as Robb hadn't left.
"S-s-stop!" she stammered, jerking away. "That was it. That was-"
Robb's look up at her was predatory. "I think you're plenty wet down here now."
She had to be dripping.
Standing up, he admired his work, Lelia sprawled on the table before him. Now, she had a much better view of what was about to happen. The outline of his arousal strained against his trousers. Watching as he unbuckled and unlaced, Lelia comprehended why she had bled the last time. Aside from an unlubricated entrance, Robb had an impressive cock. Because it had fit before, she knew it would again, but if there were the first time looking she would have had her doubts.
"You look nervous," Robb remarked, a bit smug.
"I am not nervous," Lelia refuted. "You're just... much bigger than me, remember?"
Robb grinned, more akin to a wolf than man as he bent forward and snared her mouth with his. His beard was damp, his tongue astringent as he intertwined with her. He pressed in, no pain chasing his entrance as his preparation had made the beginning so much easier. That didn't mean that Lelia wasn't stretched or feeling the strain of her partner as he filled her. She whined as he fully seated himself, breaking from his lips to press her brow into his neck.
"Am I hurting you?" he whispered.
"You're just... so large. Tis fine. You do not have to go as rough as last time."
"No?" Robb mused, beginning to rock his hips. Lelia was cockdumb for the Stark, each full sheathe hitting her cervix. She was quite certain that if he was rough once again, her insides might wind up rearranged. Instead, he savored the slow strokes, drawing his fingers along the front laces of her gown, lethargically undoing them to loosen it enough to reveal her small, perky breasts. She relished in the attention, basking in his attention and singing her praise in little pants and quiet huffs. He took a nipple between his teeth, teasing gently, cupping the other, twirling the areola betwixt thumb and index finger.
This was nothing like what she'd had in the past. At least, in this life. There had been a couple of one night stands in her previous life that she'd been with exceptional lovers, but this was different. She was tethered to him, bound for the rest of her time in this realm, and the finality of it all had terrified her. Now, it didn't. Not as he pampered her, listened to her, made certain that she also enjoyed herself. This was their second time together. The men before him hadn't been this successful in dozens of instances and attempts.
"Should... I pull out?" he asked her breathlessly in her ear. "Last time I-"
"My mother gave me tea," Lelia told him, just as winded. "It'll keep me from getting with child. I took it last time too."
"She really didn't want you having Stark children, did she?" Robb snorted irritably.
He didn't know that Cersei was fully aware of their tryst. He assumed that Cersei had instructed her to take it after they were married or if something had happened. Lelia captured his face between her palms, drawing him up toward her. "I want to. One day. But not yet."
Robb held her gaze for a beat before leaning in and kissing her sweetly. He resumed his efforts and Lelia clenched her core as she heard the hitching in the back of his throat, a quiet moan erupting into more, though he clenched his jaw and strained to keep his voice down. He sagged against her, his brow against her throat as he picked up the pieces of his wits ever so slowly. Lelia combed her fingers through his hair, running her opposite hand along the back of his sweaty neck.
"Gods, that was even better than the last time," Robb muttered eventually. "I'm not certain what you did that the end, but it was amazing."
"Oh, I don't know," Lelia feigned in earnest, though she was quite aware that she'd squeezed him hard to make it feel even better as he was finishing. "I'll try and do it again in the future."
Robb peppered her face with kisses. "Was it better for you?" He was like a puppy eager to please.
"There's no comparison," Lelia assured him. "I would like to have a bed one day and to be able to take off my clothes, but I know those are extreme luxuries we can't afford for some time."
Robb rumbled a deep laugh, the timbre of his chuckle like rolling thunder. "I'm shy in a state of disrobe."
"I've seen your cock, but you're too shy to show me your chest?" Lelia giggled.
"Mhm," he teased, purring into her ear as he held her. "I wish it were official. Then I'd return to a bed warm with you waiting."
"I'd suggest bringing it up sooner if you did not have this wildling ordeal to manage first," Lelia sighed, keening into him.
"I'll see that you come with me," Robb promised wholly.
"Oh?" Lelia popped. "Now that you've had me again, you have changed your mind?"
"Oh, it'll be absolutely vexing to have you at my side, being your pompous self and not being able to touch a hair on your head," Robb grumbled moodily. "But... Being able to see your lovely face is better than nothing at all."
"Pompous," she scoffed in offense.
"Pompous, arrogant, entitled, stubborn, a smart ass-"
"Keep going on then, I'm getting a bit hot listening to you list off my most rewarding traits," Lelia poked.
"You are wicked," he grinned. "Hiding behind your clever words and darling smiles. But... you're like a breath of icy, fresh air, as if I'm standing on a mountain top with the wind whipping in my face. You're refreshing."
She thought the metaphor hit rather close to her dreams. That could be why she used the other part of her dreams to describe him. "And you are like a storm in the sky and your laughter reminds me of thunder as the lightning hides behind the clouds."
