He awoke that morning, and for a moment was confused as to who exactly is in his bed.
The night before came flashing back to him. Alysanne in the godswood, walking towards him. Radiant and golden in Stark colors, his colors. Spinning her around in the feast hall, or watching as his brothers and family did the same. The lights catching the beads on her dress and shining in her hair, all sunlight and spun-gold, laughter dancing in her eyes and on her lips.
He understood why men fought wars for the women they love. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Alys, no length he wouldn't go to in order to keep her safe. The thought terrified him, but the thought of losing her terrified him more.
Alysanne. My wife.
He closed his eyes again, relishing the peace of the early morning spent with his wife in his arms. A queer thought, that the day he had so looked forward to had already come to pass. That instead of his betrothed, she was now his wife. Lady Alysanne Stark, who would sit by his side and offer him council, who would soften his rough edges and win over stubborn lords.
He tried to fall back asleep, but was distracted by the feel of her bare skin against his. Her head tucked into his shoulder, bare breasts against his chest, her legs twined with his. He took another deep breath and felt himself stir. He breathed in deep, the rose scent of her hair filling his senses.
More of the previous night flashed through his mind. Sneaking away from the feast before the bedding ceremony, unlacing her dress and stays, her lips on his, soft and warm. Alysanne, straddling his lap, lips pressed against his and hands tangled in his hair, hips rolling over his. Lifting her shift off of her and seeing her bare to him for the first time, her skin warm against his, the way she had felt underneath him, the soft noises she had made, her thighs around his hips-
He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head and brushed the hair from her face. She scrunched her eyebrows and buried her face deeper into his neck. He trailed his fingers up her back and to her hair, gently playing with the loose strands. She whined and went to turn away but he wrapped his arms around her before she could, pulling her closer to him.
She lifted her head, eyes half open as she looked around. "It's hardly light out, Robb. Why are you awake?" She whispered, voice rough with sleep.
He turned her head towards him and kissed her, pulling back and resting his forehead on hers. "I just missed you, is all."
She went to lay back down. "I'm tired. Miss me later, yes?"
"Sorry," He flipped her over, laying on top of her and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Besides, I wanted to make it… better for you," Robb said, voice trailing off.
He didn't know much of the marital bed, but he'd heard stories of Theon's exploits and those of other men around the keep. He knew that despite his best efforts, it had still been uncomfortable for her, and that he perhaps did not last as long as he could have. Theon had sat him down yesterday and gave him an unfortunately detailed and descriptive talk, and as uncomfortable as it had been, he was thankful for it. Not that he would ever tell Theon, however.
Alysanne's face turned crimson. "It was fine, Robb. Really."
He frowned. Fine wasn't really what he was going for. He leaned down and kissed her again before pulling back once more. Her lips followed his, and she pouted. "Do you trust me?" he said.
"Of course," she replied. He leaned down to kiss her once more, only this time he didn't break away. He trailed down her neck, over the light marks he left the night before, down her breasts and stomach, before he settled between her thighs.
He glanced up at her once more before he dove between them, licking at her and trying to find the places Theon had described to him.
She let out a strangled noise and he lifted his head back up. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He said, worried that he had done something wrong.
"Yes! No! I mean- I'm alright. You didn't hurt me," she stammered out.
He grinned, and went back down. He continued what he was doing, and figured he was doing something right when her hands flew to his hair and a gasp escaped her. He let her direct him, following the direction she pulled his hair and listening to her gasps and moans. He licked and sucked, and found that adding his fingers made her moan louder, a fact that she tried to hide.
Her grip on his hair tightened, her legs closed around his head, and she tensed up but he kept going. He kept going until she yanked on his hair, pulling him back up to her level. He looks down at her, a lopsided grin on his face. "Alright?"
She grinded back at him, chest heaving and face flushed. She didn't respond. Instead, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. She ran her hands along his shoulders and chest and he shivers, a small moan escaping him as her hand traveled lower. He pulled back slightly to watch as she tentatively gripped him and he let out a shaky breath as she stroked him once, twice, and again. She guided him into her and- seven hells.
He didn't last much longer than the first time around.
They fall back asleep for a few more hours, and rise again. They went for one more round, and by the time they finished it was late morning, nearing on midday. Alysanne rested her head on his chest as they caught their breaths, before sitting up against the pillows. Robb rolled out of bed and began dressing for the day.
"I suppose I should send for a maid to fetch some clothes for me," she said, moving to grab her dressing robe off the floor.
Robb stopped and faced back to her, scratching the back of his head. "I hope you don't mind, but I had your maids bring your clothes here," he said, pointing to her chest in the corner of the room before pulling on his trousers.
"Oh," she said, eyebrows raised, "I hadn't noticed." She pulled the robe on.
He made his way back to her. "I had hoped that you would stay here with me. If you want your own chambers, I understand. It's no trouble at all-"
She interrupted him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's alright, Robb. I'd much rather stay with you." He smiled and fit his hands around her waist, pulling her in for another kiss.
She was the first to pull back this time, making her way to the chest of her clothes. "We should head down, before they start to wonder where we are," she said.
He chuckled. "I'm sure they have a very good idea of where we are," he replied.
"What do you mean?" she asked, rummaging through her chest.
"It's not entirely a secret what happens on one's wedding night, Alys," he said, mirth lacing his words. She stopped cold, and he continued talking. "Why do you think no servants have bothered us? Besides, we weren't making any great efforts to be quiet," he ended his sentence with another small laugh.
She whirled around, clutching a dress in her hands. Her eyes were wide and a hand came to cover her mouth. Robb only laughed harder before dodging rolled up stockings that came flying his way.
Eventually, they made their way down to the hall, arm in arm. It was largely empty, save a few others who have come to break their fast late. Alysanne spotted her Uncle Tyrion sitting alone, appearing to be nursing the after effects of too much wine.
They took a seat across from him, and it didn't escape Robb's notice how Alys winced slightly when she sat down. It didn't escape Tyrion's notice either, it seemed, as he raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of them. "Good morning," Tyrion drawled, taking a sip of his ale. "Late night?" Alys flushed and Robb scowled in his direction. Tyrion only smirked. "We missed the two of you at the bedding ceremony, not as exciting without the bride and groom," Tyron said.
"Yes, I wasn't eager to have such a fine dress torn to shreds," Alys replied, stealing the mug of ale from Tyrion.
Tyrion scowled at her and she only grinned. "The King was quite disappointed, as was Joffrey," he continued.
"Hm, a shame," Alys said, taking a sip of the ale before handing it back to Tyrion. "Tell me, uncle, what news of Casterly Rock? It's been so long since I've seen you."
Tyrion launched into a tale of sewers and whores and old complaints of his father, but Robb tuned him out. Instead he focuses on what Tyrion had said earlier, about the King and Joffrey.
They had been the driving reason for spiriting Alysanne out before the bedding ceremony was called for. He knew the northern lords would have been respectful, hoped so anyway, but he couldn't speak for the southron lords. He knew not if the sentiments of the King were widely echoed, and he wanted no opportunity for them to get their hands on her.
Joffrey was another matter. He knew of how Joffrey is, what he did to Alysanne in King's Landing. He knew of how he'd cornered her, of how he'd forced her to kiss him and worked his hands up her skirts. It had only been the timely passing of a maid that had stopped him from going further, providing enough distraction for Alys to slip away.
It hadn't been until several moons after her return that she finally told him, on one of their walks. He had been wroth, and poor, sweet Alys had thought his anger directed towards her at first. He had half a notion to ride to King's Landing himself, and his anger was only stayed by the concern that filled him when he saw Alys' tears. That had been the first, and only, time Alys had cried in his arms. He hoped she would never have the need to again, as he despised how helpless he felt.
He despised seeing Joffrey walk the halls of Winterfell with that smug look on his face almost as much as he despised seeing Alys hurt. He had especially hated seeing him with his grimey little hands on Alysanne last night. He was thankful that his father interfered when he did. He was pulled from his thoughts by Alysanne rising from the table. "Where are you going?" He asked, a slight pout on his face.
"I had promised Myrcella a walk through the glass gardens. Shall I find you later?" she suggested.
He nodded and she was off, gliding out of the hall to find her cousin. He moved back to his food and saw Tyrion out of the corner of his eye, a stupid grin on his face.
"Will you survive her absence? Or shall I send for a maester?" Tyrion said, tone mocking.
Robb narrowed his eyes at him. "I'll be just fine," he said, his voice tense.
Tyrion laughed "Are you quite certain? You're much kinder with her around. I suppose I should count myself lucky that wolf of yours has been locked up on my sister's command!" Tyrion only laughed harder as Robb glowered. "Forgive me, Stark. I should not make japes at the expense of my favorite niece's husband," Tyrion said.
Robbs face relaxed and he forced the scowl off his face. Alys may not forgive me for throttling one of her favorite uncles. It's only a harmless jape."No, perhaps you should not. Lest you wish to become better acquainted with Grey Wind, and the direwolves of my brothers and sisters"
He stared at Tyrion for a moment, a serious mien on his face, before breaking out into a grin. Tyrion let out a surprised laugh, and Robb joined him. "I admit, I was fearful when she was sent North. You lot have such a grim reputation. I'm glad to see my fears were misplaced. I'm thankful to you," Tyrion said.
"And I'm thankful for Alys," Robb replied.
Tyrion gave him a thin smile and took a draught of his ale. "There was a time when I feared her life would be much bleaker than this," Tyrion said.
Robb followed suit, picking up the mug of ale in front of him. "What do you mean?"
"What was there for her? I can't imagine the King would have let her marry so high if you weren't Ned Stark's son. And what lord would wish to go against the new King? We're quite lucky that good old Robert wished for Alysanne to go North, given what became of the last dragonspawn he wished dead," Tyrion said, taking another sip of ale.
Robb frowned. "Surely Lord Tywin wouldn't let harm come to her. She's his own blood."
"Clearly you don't know my father. He doesn't take threats to the family legacy lightly," Tyrion rose from his seat. "I wish I could stay and continue this conversation, but I believe your Maester was going to allow me into the library tower." Tyrion waddled off, and Robb was once again left alone.
Robb stood later on the covered walkway that overlooked the yard, watching as Bran did his best to spar with Prince Tommen. It didn't seem as though it was a very fair match, Bran far exceeding Tommen's skill level. Bran appeared to be trying to give Tommen a fighting chance, but there was only so much one can do.
He heard footsteps approaching and he turned and saw his mother walking his way. "Mother," he greeted her, a smile on his face.
"Robb," she returned his smile, coming to stand by him. "Where's Alysanne? I didn't expect you to be letting her out of your sights so soon," she said, a pointed glance at him.
He avoided her eyes and instead focused on Bran, who had knocked Tommen onto the ground again. "She's with the Princess Myrcella, I believe," he answered.
"Ah, I see." His mother glanced at him. "You stayed in bed quite late, I didn't think to see you at all today."
Robb avoided her eyes again. "Mother," he muttered.
She only smiled wider. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Robb. You love your wife, there's not many who can say that. And you're happy."
Robb remembered Alysanne this morning, mussed hair and sleepy smile. "I'm very happy," he smiled.
Catelyn gave him a soft grin and said, "That's all your father and I wanted for you. For all of you." They turned back to the yard and watched as Sansa walked with Arya, towards the godswood. Catelyn spoke again. "Your father received a betrothal offer for Sansa."
Robb sighed. How many was that now? And he's not accepted a single one. He hadn't turned down any of the offers either, but the northern lords wouldn't hold off forever. Sooner or later they would demand a firm answer, and his father would have to choose. Or reject them altogether and send her south, as his mother wished. An idea he wasn't fond of, and he suspected Sansa shared his sentiments.
Lord Bolton had been the first to offer his heir. Sansa had been approaching her tenth nameday, and her parents had promised her a feast to celebrate. They invited some of the more important bannermen and those who lived closest to Winterfell, Lord Bolton among them. Robb had never been fond of the man, he found him unnerving and cold. As a child, the rumours of leeches and Lord Bolton had frightened him.
Lord Bolton had approached his father and put forth his son and heir, Domeric, as a suitor for Sansa's hand. It would have been a smart match, and it would have done well to reward Lord Bolton for his loyalty. A Stark as Lady of the Dreadfort would have improved relations between the two houses, which had a long history of bloodshed between them. Those days were long gone, but shared blood would have ensured those days stayed gone. Sansa would have done well as Lady of the Dreadfort, Robb thought.
It was the only betrothal offer thus far that his father had been ready to say yes too. He had wanted to wait a few years before formally signing any agreements, but it seems the gods had other plans. Domeric Bolton died only a year later on a visit home from the Vale, where he had been fostering. Lord Bolton was left with his bastard son Ramsay and without a betrothal agreement with Winterfell.
Lord Karstark had come next, only a few months after the death of Domeric Bolton. Years before, Lord Karstark had wanted to betrothe him to his daughter, but had been disappointed to find a betrothal agreement had been struck with Tywin Lannister. So he bided his time and waited. In place of Domeric he offered his son and heir, Harrion Karstark. He was a few years older than Sansa, but betrothals had been made between men older than Harrion and girls younger than Sansa. They wouldn't marry for some time, anyway.
Then came the Greatjon, a fiercely loyal bannerman who put forth his heir, the Smalljon. Sansa had just turned three and ten when a raven came from Last Hearth with an offer of marriage. Jon Umber was still older than Sansa, but younger than Harrion, and perhaps a better match for it. Sansa had seemed quite charmed by the Smalljon, with his strength and gentle courtesies. He was a favorite of Robbs among the suitors that had cycled through Winterfell. He didn't seem to leer at his sister, and had been kind enough to offer Sansa some ways to improve her archery.
Lord Cerwyn made his offer at Sansa's sixteenth name-day feast, waiting until well after the meal had started and the drinks had been flowing to ask. Cley Cerwyn was perhaps only one year older than Sansa, and had always been kind to Bran and Rickon. He put up with the antics of the younger boys, and Robb liked him for that. Cley Cerwyn was kind, Castle Cerwyn was only half a day's ride from Winterfell. Alysanne would like that, to have her dearest friend so close. Cley Cerwyn may be considered a bit below Sansa's station, but still a fine enough match.
Shortly after that, a raven from Deepwood Motte came, offering Gawen Glover for Sansa. Gawen Glover was almost ten years younger than Sansa, and was the only betrothal offer that his father had politely said no to.
As for the others, his father hadn't said no explicitly, but neither had he said yes. To each lord he had given the reasoning of wanting to wait until Sansa was older to make a final decision, to perhaps gain her input as to where she would reside. His father hadn't been lying, but Robb knew that his mother also wanted to wait and see which southron houses would have heirs of an age with Sansa. He'll have to make a decision soon. Now that I'm married off, they'll all turn to her.
Robb tried to think of who could have made an offer, but could not bring to mind any other northern houses that would be an appropriate match for his sister. He looked to his mother for an answer. "Who?"
Catelyn smiled proudly. "The King himself. He wants Sansa for Prince Joffrey."
Robb paled. Not Joffrey. Never Joffrey. "Is he going to accept?"
She pursed her lips. "He hasn't said yet. She's nearly nine and ten. I told him he can't keep holding off on making a decision forever, and a girl can't do much better than the crown prince."
He shook his head. "Joffrey is cruel, mother. Sansa would be better off marrying Gawen Glover, as young as he is."
"Those are just stories, Robb," Catelyn chided. "And she would be queen! It's all she ever wanted as a girl. She was born for the south, she'll make such a fine queen," she said, joy permeating her words.
Has Alys not told her? Does she really not know? "Perhaps you should talk to Alysanne. She may have better insight into his true nature," he said gently, trying to be cautious of his mothers hopes for Sansa and not wanting to take all of the joy away at once.
It was still an honor, to be considered for the crown prince, and to say he was not proud of his sister would be a lie. If only it was another who was the heir to the Iron Throne, someone gentler and kinder.
"She hardly knows him, Robb," Catelyn said.
Robb grimaced. I suppose Alysanne really hasn't told her."How does Sansa feel about it?" Robb asked.
"I know not. Ned only told her yesterday, and with the wedding I haven't the time to talk with her," Catelyn pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "I imagine she's well pleased. When she was younger and would talk of her future husband, it was always the south she spoke of. The south and wanting to make a good marriage for her family," she said fondly.
Robb grew concerned. "Father won't make her marry him, will he? If she does not want to?"
Catelyn frowned. "I'd imagine not. But why would she not want to marry him?"
He shook his head again and took a breath. "Just, talk to Alysanne. Please?"
His mother sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
"Thank you, mother," he smiled at her.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Myrcella and Alysanne making their way across the yard, arm in arm. He excused himself and said farewell to his mother before heading in their direction. They were still walking as he approached, heads close together and talking in hushed whispers, giggles lacing their words.
"Princess Myrcella, Alysanne," he greeted.
Their heads whipped forward and they looked at him with wide eyes. Alys stifled a laugh and Myrcella's face went red. He raised an eyebrow. "Husband!" Alys came forward and kissed him on his cheek.
He turned to Myrcella. "If you'll forgive me, Princess, I would much like to steal my wife back," he said jovially.
Her face flushed more. "Of course, Lord Robb," she said before rushing off towards the keep.
He faced Alys, a curious look on his face. "Have I done something to offend her?" He asked.
She took his arm and they made their way towards their chambers. "No, it wasn't you. I believe it had to do with the conversation you interrupted. She had some...questions."
Robb was more confused than before. "Questions? What about?"
Alys sighed, and said with a hushed voice, "about the marriage bed, my love." Robb let out a noise of understanding and they entered their shared solar. "Did you have a reason for stealing me away?" Alys asked, removing her cloak and setting it over a chair.
He remembered his conversation with his mother earlier. "Yes, actually. It's about Sansa."
She straightened and turned to him. "She told you then? About Joffrey?"
"You knew?" Robb asked..
She nodded. "She told me yesterday, while she was helping me ready." Alys poured herself a small glass of wine from a pitcher and took a seat.
"And? How does she feel about it? You told her about Joffrey, right?" He joined her at the small table.
She gave him a look. "Of course I told her about Joffrey. She knew what he did long before I told you," she paused to take a sip of the wine. "She's not pleased. I believe your father has plans to hold off the betrothal until he can find a way out that won't anger the King. He doesn't know what exactly Joffrey did to me, but I told him of his cruelty."
Robb let go a sigh of relief. "My mother will be crushed. She was ecstatic when she told me."
Alys hummed. "I'll speak with her. Tell her what I know of him, if not what he did to me."
"Aye, I told her to speak with you," Robb said.
Alys gave a wry smile. "Perhaps my husband isn't a dullard after all," she teased.
"Hey!" He gave her leg a light kick under the table.
She rose from her seat. "Come, my love. We should be seen around the keep. What will people think, if we spend the entire day shut in here?" She jested, reaching out a hand to him.
Robb laughed.