Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. All rights go to Game of Thrones of HBO and George R.R. Martin.

A/N: Welcome to Ch. 9!

Ch. 9 Broken Things

King's Landing

Joffrey yelped, fidgeting his arm against his mother's touch as she tended to the direwolf bite on his hand. After the attack, he had refused to talk to Sansa. Arya hated him, her wolf Nymeria running off into the forest. The other had been killed much to Cersei's delight. Poor Sansa had cried over Lady for hours, Joffrey ignoring her cries. His pride and arrogance overshadowed decency, "Oh please. Its nearly healed." Cersei continued to apply an ointment to the wound.

Joffrey sulked. "It's ugly." Among the finery and elegance surrounding them, his wound stood out, gaping and ugly to his eye. It was ironic, the way Cassana would have retorted his behavior was abhorrent and himself uglier still. But Cassana was far away in Winterfell and Joffrey remained sour.

"A king should have scars." Cersei wrapped a bandage around the healing bite. "You fought off a direwolf. You're a warrior like your father." Of course, Joffrey had no idea she was referring to Jaime.

"I'm not like him. I didn't fight off anything." How correct he was in stating he was the opposite of Robert. He was fair and Robert was coarse. He was a gold lion and the king an old stag. "It bit me and all I did was scream." Joffrey had never been more embarrassed of himself, having one Stark girl fawn over him while the other's wolf attacked him. He had screamed like a coward. Like a weakling. "And the two Stark girls saw it, both of them."

Cersei's green eyes narrowed; her lips pursed. "That's not true. You killed the beast." Her lies spewed from her mouth like honey. Joffrey looked back at her in bewilderment. "You only spared the girl because of the love your father bears for her father." She would convince Joffrey to manipulate the truth into whatever he wanted it to be, with her encouragement of course.

"I didn't—I."

"When Aerys Targaryen sat on the iron throne, your father was a rebel and a traitor." She finished the final touches on her son's bandaging. "Someday, you'll sit on the throne and the truth will be what you make it." Cersei's words comforted Joffrey slightly. She would whisper in his ear when he was king, molding and manipulating him into a mirror of herself.

"Do I have to marry her?" Joffrey abhorred the prospect of marring Sansa Stark.

"Yes." Cersei was quick to the point. If Joffrey rejected the marriage proposal or voiced any type of aversion to the match, the consequences would be dire. Sansa's father was the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell. It was expected of him to make such a match. "She's very beautiful and young," Cersei added. She could see the disinclination to the redhead on Joffrey's features as she spoke. She was a pretty little thing, but the attraction was fleeting. She was from the North, not a southern bride. "And if you don't like her, you only need to see her on formal occasions and when the time comes, to make little princes and princesses." Joffrey seemed daunted by the matter.

"And if you'd rather fuck painted whores, you'll fuck painted whores. And if you'd rather lie with noble virgins, so be it." Joffrey appeared slightly overwhelmed. "You are my darling boy, and the world will be exactly as you want it to be." Cersei gripped her son's chin firmly, her words soothing his insecurities. Cersei knew her son could be a monster, but in that moment, he was the vulnerable baby she had brought into the world.

"I don't want the Stark girl and I never will," Joffrey shrieked back at his mother, rising from the table and pacing.

Cersei's countenance remained calm, and she smiled sweetly at her son. "Then she will be yours to do with as you please. She will bear you an heir, perhaps a spare. And then you can send her away if you like, but you will marry her." Joffrey glowered back with his green glare, his teeth grinding in displeasure.

"We allow the Northerners too much power. They consider themselves our equals. They have taken what belongs to the crown, what belongs to me," he sneered. "Sansa Stark has too much value." Cersei ignored the allusion towards Cassana, changing the subject briefly.

"How would you handle them?" Cersei sat back in her chair, assessing Joffrey as he spoke.

"I'd double their taxes. And command them to supply 10,000 men to the royal army." The idea was commendable but not realistic.

"A royal army?"

"Why should every lord command his own men? It's primitive. No better than the hill tribes. A king needs men, needs protection against his enemies. The lords should focus on sending men for a royal army, not their own. And if they do, they'll be fined for keeping more than 100 retainers on hand for their safety. We should have a standing army of men loyal to the crown, trained by experienced soldiers instead of a mob of peasants who've never held pikes in their lives. Force their loyalty to the crown, to us." Joffrey gestured between him and his mother.

"And if the Northerners rebel? If Robb Stark and your sister rebel in retaliation?" Cersei pushed.

"I'd crush him," Joffrey replied sinisterly. He didn't say "them." He only meant Robb. Cersei did not miss the envy that overtook her son's body as he spoke, and it frightened her. "I'd seize Winterfell and install someone loyal to the realm as Warden of the North. Uncle Kevan, maybe. I'd execute Robb Stark for his treason and bring Cassana home."

"What about Cassana? Would you trust her in Uncle Kevan's stead? And these 10,000 Northern troops, would they fight for you or their lord?"

"For me. I'm their king. And Cassana shall do what I command. She is loyal to me." Joffrey's voice rose, his arrogance blinding him.

Cersei cocked her head to the side, testing him further. "You've just invaded their homeland. You've taken their Lady of Winterfell away from them. Or rather installed her as regent. You've asked them to kill their brothers…"

"I'm not asking," Joffrey spoke sharply. His scowl returned. "And regent?"

"Surely you would have Cassana rule the North in your absence, especially since she may have children by then. Perhaps some sons—." Cersei was cut off immediately.

"Cassana will never bear Robb Stark a son," he spoke determinedly. "Not if I can help it."

"She is his wife, Joffrey. Surely you understand what they've been doing the past month. I'm sure we shall hear an announcement soon."

"She shall bear no man sons except me!" Joffrey's glare became crazed, his temper flared. "The only reason she rejected my advances, my affections, is because she does not want that fool to know the love she bears towards me. She wants me mother, the same way I want her. I asked her when we were at Winterfell. I assured her there was no reason to be jealous of Sansa."

"I don't understand."

"I came across her in the bath." Joffrey chuckled to himself, his eyes lighting up as he remembered the paleness of her skin and the way she drew her legs up to her chest in feigned shyness. "She asked me who I desired as my queen. I suggested her. She made no rebuttal towards me. If her lady had not been there, I would have consummated our bond."

"My love…" Cersei was at a loss of words. Joffrey had never directly spoken of the desire he held for his sister. Cersei had feigned ignorance, rather pretending she didn't see her son's vile tendencies. But he apparently did not care.

"She should have been mine, mother! You should have married us, to keep the bloodline strong. And now you have bound her to the North." Joffrey continued to grimace. His hatred for the Starks ran deep, almost as much as Cersei's own animosity. She had her own personal grudge Joffrey could never fathom.

"A good king knows when to save his strength and when to destroy his enemies. We shall get her back, one way or another." Cersei soothed her son's anger with her sugar-coated words, though she shivered at his inclinations. She had no room to talk. Jaime was her lover, but his obsession with Cassana was enough to rival Robert's fury when Lyanna was taken by Rhaegar.

"So, you agree. The Starks are our enemies?" Joffrey questioned haughtily.

Cersei's emeralds darkened in agreeance. "Everyone who isn't us, is an enemy."

"The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household."

"You were born in the long summer, sweet one, you've never known anything else, but now the winter is truly coming."

Cassana had been dreaming, dark shapes and torches lit in the darkness as she tried to make out faces. There was nothing, merely a dirt path and the night around her. She looked down and a steel chain came into view. Panting entered her ear, and she could not figure out where it was coming from until she realized it was her. She was covered in fur. She was a direwolf.

A whimper emerged from her mouth when she spotted Ned Stark approaching. His cold demeanor had switched for melancholy, a sad look in his grey orbs. She fidgeted, Cassana not understanding what was occurring nor why she had taken the form of a direwolf. Ned muttered some words under his breath before driving a dagger into her heart.

Cassana had awoken with a lurch, her jerked movements waking Robb. She had pushed off his chest, having fallen asleep against him after they made love. If Robb hadn't have felt her, he would have been cruelly awakened by the piercing screams from her lungs.

"What's wrong?" he voiced, gathering his bride to his arms as she panted and squirmed against him.

"I was…I was a direwolf. I was Lady." Cassana had seen the white and greys of the fur that had belonged to her in the vision. "And then he killed me."

Robb shushed her, his body shaking at her declaration. "It was just a dream, "he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Curious, he continued. "Who killed you?"

"Your father." Robb's stomach flipped and he could feel his heart beating madly in his chest.

Cassana now sat with Old Nan as she told her stories and minded her needlework. Bran looked positively bored, eliciting a small giggle from his new sister. She minded Bran now, spending her time between managing the castle, visiting the "Little Lord" as Old Nan called him, and keeping Rickon in his place. She could hear Rickon's sounds of delight as he played with the direwolves in the courtyard below. Bran frowned.

Robb's smile had disappeared overnight, Bran voicing the opinion once he had awakened from his eternal slumber. Cat was gone now, having traveled to Kings Landing with Lord Cassel. Robb had also been on his own journeys, visiting other holdfasts and leaving Cassana in charge to manage the estates with Maester Luwin in his place. He has more time for Theon and Hallis Mollen than he does for us. Cassana shook her head, explaining that he was Lord of Winterfell while their father was in Kings Landing as the Hand of the King. Father was never gone this long.

Cassana had no idea the amount of times Ned would leave Winterfell, but she knew Bran felt alone left in the castle while his mother and father were gone. He feels abandoned. He feels like they have deserted him. I am their replacement. And Cassana did her best to alleviate Bran's fears. But being locked up and confined to his bed all day had its limits.

"Why don't you go down for supper, Nan. I shall have mine own with Bran." Nan nodded, slowly ascending from her post, and hobbling towards the door with her stories and her needling. Bran's sour countenance remained, and she made noises at him. Tsk Tsk. "You can leave this room if you only ask. We could go see Rickon in the courtyard or we could go to the glass gardens."

"Yes, but you can walk." His words were like a slap to her face, but she didn't let him see the way it affected her.

"We can have Hodor carry you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Cassana had met the friendly giant, a large man who could only speak his name. He was remarkably strong. A simple man, she had learned he was the grandson of Old Nan. He had been quite normal until he was afflicted with seizures in his youth. He was never the same after that. Cassana couldn't help but notice he was always happy, humming to himself while he worked. His name wasn't really Hodor, but Walder. No one knew why he always said "Hodor." No one cared.

"I can see the three-eyed raven," Bran announced. Cassana stopped her sewing, a feeling of dread taking over her body.

"Can you see the direwolves in your dreams?" Bran's mouth opened like a fish out of water. His eyes almost bugged out of his head. Cassana stared at her hands, not needing to see his face to realize Bran was having the same dreams as her.

"And the crypts?" Bran added.

"No, just the one dream." Cassana whispered. "I mostly hear the voice."

"What voice?"

Cassana bit her lip. "A woman's voice. I first heard it in the crypts."

"Sometimes when I dream, I hear voices. But it doesn't frighten me. I think I'm supposed to see these things." Cassana had no idea. She was not familiar with the visions either of them were having. But her arrival at Winterfell spurred the dream-like sequences.

"Perhaps." Her lips spread into a thin line, and she gave Bran a cautious look. "I would keep this to yourself, Bran. Until we figure out what it means." He studied her. Somehow, he had trusted Cassana enough to reveal his secret.

"Because you haven't told Robb?" Cassana turned red at his questioning. "I wouldn't mind telling him. He's more concerned with being Lord of Winterfell." She shot Bran a scolding look, but they were interrupted by the appearance of Theon. Alys trailed behind him.

"We have visitors," Theon announced. Cassana was startled by the sound of the door creaking as well as warning growl Summer gave when she heard the pair enter.

"I don't want to see anyone," Bran spoke.

"Really? If I was cooped up all day with only this old bat—." Theon was cut off by Cassana's deadly gaze. He didn't finish his sentence. Alys punched his arm lightly, Theon scowling at his partner.

"I don't want to go."

"But you will go, Bran." Cassana set her needlepoint aside. "Robb is expecting you as well as me. Sometimes we must do things we don't want."

Bran pouted but said nothing. "Hodor!" Theon called. The giant man jogged in, ducking under the doorway with his usual happy expression on his features. Cassana smiled at him brightly.

"Hodor!" Hodor announced happily.

"Hello, Hodor. Can you carry Bran down to the hall?"

"Hodor!" the giant replied to Cassana, obediently picking up Bran from his position on the bed and heading to their destination.

Cassana linked arms with Alys, Theon leading the way. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Tyrion," Alys replied.

"Then I wager the Lord of Winterfell is in a foul mood."

Robb took his place in his father's seat at the high table, Maester Luwin at his side and Grey Wind at his feet. His blues were cold as he faced Tyrion Lannister. He even wore his ringmail and leather for the occasion which accompanied his heavy fur cloak. He was prepared for battle. Tyrion could not deny the stern look on his face.

"I must say, I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit," Tyrion announced. Yoren stood at his side. He eyed the guards lined along the stone walls.

"Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome here at Winterfell for as long as he wishes to stay." Robb deliberately excluded his wife's uncle.

"Any man of the Night's Watch but not I, eh, boy?" Robb hated to be called boy.

"I'm not your boy, Lannister." Tyrion smirked. He knew his statement would hit a nerve. "I am Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"Then you must learn a lord's courtesy. Especially since we are kin now, boy." Robb's jaw tightened. Tyrion turned at the sound of the door to the courtyard opening.

Tyrion's eyes widened in disbelief. "So, it's true." He had heard Bran was crippled from the waist down when he visited the Wall, a raven arriving for Jon. Now he could see the truth with his own eyes. Hodor scurried into the room, gently cradling Bran in his arms.

"Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin announced from Robb's side. "Curious." His eyes spotted Cassana. "Ah, my dear niece. Marriage suits you." He could not deny the glow Cassana held about her as she strut into the hall. She wore the cloak of the north but still had the southern style dress underneath, though silk replaced damask and the sleeves were lined with fur. The green and gold pattern suited her complexion, but blue was her color. He bowed before reaching for her outstretched hand.

"Uncle, your visit is quite unexpected but welcomed nevertheless." Tyrion pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. Robb frowned.

"Why are you here, Lannister?" Robb was clearly annoyed by his presence and Cassana's eyes narrowed.

"Robb…" Her husband ignored her, maintaining an air of authority around him. Cassana glared, making her way to the high table.

"My niece is pleased by my presence and welcomes me with open arms. Perhaps you should learn a thing or two from her." Robb's face darkened further. He didn't like being scolded. Bran is right. Robb tries to emulate his father and comes across as inimical.

Cassana made her way behind her husband, placing her hands on his shoulders while squeezing her nails into him as hard as she could. Robb barely flinched, though she knew he felt her efforts when he tilted his head slightly. She lowered her lips to his ears. "He means no harm. Enough with the hostilities." Robb brushed her off. He was still suspicious of him, though he had no idea it was the elder Lannister brother who imposed a far larger threat. Tyrion was daunting in his own manner, small as he was. But he could never hurt a child as Jaime had.

"Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt," Tyrion joked.

"Kneel Hodor." The giant obeyed his master's command, kneeling before placing Bran on his leg to sit. Robb regarded him cautiously. Cassana scoffed, disregarding propriety as she made her displeasure clear. She rolled her eyes at Robb's childish behavior, seating herself at his side with a pout on her lips. She was surprised when his hand reached for her knee under the table, his hand gripping tightly. She wouldn't give him a reaction and she could see the frustration in his clenched jaw.

"Don't lecture me about courtesies in front of your uncle," Robb whispered.

"Do you like to ride, Bran?"

"Yes. Well, I mean I did like to." The pair had no idea the private conversation was taking place in addition to their own.

"Maybe if you didn't act like such a barbarian…Are you a wildling my dear husband?" Robb couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth upturn into a small smile, disguising it with a mask of ice. Cassana saw through him, smirking to herself. She finally placed her own dainty hand over his, soothing his wolf.

"The boy has lost the use of his legs." Maester Luwin was quick to speak, confused on why Tyrion was asking him such a question. The boy could not walk and therefore, could not ride.

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle even, a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple." Bran defended himself. He did not like that word and neither did his brother, but it was the truth.

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it." Cassana held back a chuckle. At his own expense, Tyrion had attempted to make the lad smile and was successful. Bran found the retort slightly funny. But Tyrion was right. Grandfather despised his existence but his legacy was deemed more important than ridding himself of his monstrosity of a son.

"I have a gift for you." Curious, Cassana left the side of her husband as Bran opened the scroll Tyrion handed to him. An array of designs from Tyrion's own intellect stared back at him. Cassana studied the drawings eagerly from behind Hodor.

"Oh Bran! It's a saddle design so you can ride again. We'll have to give it to the saddler so he can start immediately." Bran beamed, encouraged by Cassana's excitement as she took the parchment and scanned the content further.

"You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling. Teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice," Tyrion spoke, pleased with the boy's reaction.

"Will I really be able to ride?" Hope gleamed in Bran's eyes.

"You will." A grin lit up Tyrion's features.

"Thank you, uncle. I am truly grateful." Robb's reply said otherwise.

"Is this some king of trick? Why would you want to help him?" Robb's tone was low and accusing, as if he expected Tyrion to demand something or return. Or perhaps his misjudgment was getting the best of him as well as his temper.

"That's enough." Cassana's sharp tone echoed across the hall as she made her anger known. "I will not have you disrespect my uncle when all he has done is offer Bran an opportunity to enjoy riding again." Robb went to argue, but Tyrion stopped him before he said something he regretted.

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things," Tyrion said simply.

Robb finally let his guard down, his blues softening at the sight of his brother's happiness. He wouldn't admit that Cassana's verbal lashing had whipped him into place. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. I see I'll only get a warm welcome from my niece, even if she's a Stark now. Doesn't that make us kin?" Tyrion was mocking him and Cassana was furious with her new husband.

Cassana tried to make amends. "Uncle, I apologize—."

"It's not you who has been rude. And I can see your husband's pride won't allow him to ask for forgiveness. I can find a warm bed outside the walls." Tyrion turned on his heel, nodding in farewell as he watched Cassana turn her blazing glare on Robb Stark. The boy has fallen victim to the Baratheon temper. I pity him. He chuckled, nevertheless.

"Everyone out." The princess' tone was deadly, all setting their sights on Robb for permission. He nodded; His oceans connected to Cassana's raging storms as they battled for dominance. One-by-one the guards exited the hall followed by Hodor carrying Bran, Maester Luwin bowing his head in respect, and Theon and Alys snickering between one another.

"Was that necessary? I don't need the whole of Winterfell knowing you disagree with me. You are my wife not my council," Robb scolded.

Cassana approached the high table while Robb remained seated. "And yet your father heeds your mother's words," she retorted. "I am not a silent object. You forget I still outrank you. I am a princess by birth—." Her anger was fuming, but Robb's temper was more intense at the mention of her status. He hated when she used her birth to manipulate him, made herself sound better than him. Perhaps it was because she was Cersei's daughter, because he could hear the queen's mocking tone and see her vicious glare in her daughter, his wife.

"You are my wife!" Robb exclaimed. His hands slammed hard on the table, making Cassana flinch. "I am your lord and your husband." Grey Wind growled, whether in protection of Cassana or because of the animosity between the couple was unknown.

The words stung. "Forgive me. I thought you were just Robb." She curtsied, unnerving him when she refused to tear her gaze from him until she turned around. He looked away, his jaw clicking. Cassana left Robb to his thoughts and the cold hall, her lingering stare enough to evoke guilt from the young wolf. Grey Wind followed.

"For my part, I always found you Starks a tiresome lot, but Cat seems to have become attached to you, for reasons I cannot comprehend. I shall try to keep you alive for her sake. A fool's task, admittedly, but I could never refuse your wife anything."

"Do you know when mother will be back?" The question did not surprise Cassana as she put Rickon to bed that night. The youngest Stark always asked after his mother, Bran more stubborn. Cassana tucked him into bed, being sure the covers were underneath him as he liked. Shaggydog jumped up to join them, licking her in greeting before settling down.

"Shaggydog shouldn't sleep in bed with you, little wolf. And as for your mother, she had important business to attend to. She should be finished by now. I am sure she will be home within the month." Cassana couldn't imagine how Cat had entered King's Landing unseen. She was sure Littlefinger had sniffed her out. Cringy man that he was, he held a soft spot for Lady Stark.

"What business?"

"I don't know, little one. You best not worry your head about adult matters." Cassana kissed Rickon's forehead, cupping his face with her hands.

"Sometimes I think you are my mama now." Cassana froze, staring down at her lap at Rickon's words.

"I am your sister, not your mother. You best remember that. I don't want you to ever say that again. Do you understand?" Her tone was not sharp but was reprimanding. She spoke softly, but Rickon understood her meaning. He nodded, yawning sleepily as Cassana blew out the candle. She pulled her shawl around her tighter as she headed for the door.

"Are you still mad at Robb?" Rickon questioned with childish curiosity.

"You need not worry about that either. Goodnight, Rickon." Cassana left the little wolf of Winterfell to his sleep, entering the corridor and shutting the door behind her.

"You received a letter from Sansa." Cassana almost shrieked as she heard Alys snicker at her, clutching her chest with her hand. Alys had to keep her mouth over her hand to prevent herself from bursting out into laughter. Cassana punched her arm in irritation and the pair walked arm-in-arm to Alys' room.

Alys immediately handed the letter over. "The raven came when you were with Rickon. I told Theon I would give it to you." Cassana raised her eyebrows and wiggled them in jest.

"Theon was just with you?" Alys rolled her greys.

"We were merely enjoying one another's company." Cassana opened the letter, scanning its contents as she listened to Alys.

"And what would your grandmother think of you consorting with a Greyjoy?" Olenna Tyrell was not a woman to be trifled with. She meddled and schemed just as much as the rest of the south. But she was cunning, she was to be respected.

Cassana frowned as she read Sansa's words. Her red fox was frightened of her fate. "What is it?"

"Sansa thinks Joffrey hates her…and that he will hate her more when she only gives him daughters."

"You are slow to learn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you've done since you climbed down off your horse."

Cassana had shunned Robb from their bed for two weeks, Robb having to gain her trust back after the mistreatment of her uncle. When he attempted to join her, she banished him to the chaise in front of the fireplace to which he begrudgingly conceded. Grey Wind had taken refuge at the foot of their bed, pleading with his mistress with his wide eyes. She had fallen for the trap and Robb watched annoyed from his position in front of the hearth. His direwolf sighed deeply, his head on Cassana's feet as she slept.

Robb let out a frustrated groan, lying on his back as he looked up at the ceiling. He'd had enough, grumbling under his breath, and shedding the furs and comforter that were covering him. Cassana had been feigning sleep, sitting up in bed with a head of tousled gold as he watched him warily. "I'm sleeping in our bed tonight whether you like it or not. This has gone on for long enough." She remained silent, looking at him sleepily as he dared to remove the covers and slide in beside her.

The movement forced Grey Wind to abandon his spot, now taking refuge in the spot Robb had once occupied. A loud hmph was heard from the direwolf as he settled himself and watched his master as he prepared himself to placate his young bride.

Cassana situated her body back into the warmth of the bed, scooting as far away from Robb as possible until his calloused hands reached for her. He pulled her back into his chest and she fidgeted in protest while he wrapped himself around her. She was his prisoner now, locked within his embrace as he pressed his lips to her shoulder. "Make love to me," he pleaded.

Cassana could hear the desperation in his voice and when she adjusted in his arms, she could see the ask of forgiveness in his eyes. She reached up, brushing her thumb pad across the bristles of his beard. Robb hummed in satisfaction before tilting his head down to capture her lips. He hadn't expected her enthusiasm to outweigh his as she scrambled over him and straddled him. She had wanted him just as much as he wanted her as she lifted her nightgown out of the way and guided him to her entrance.

They both moaned as he entered her, Robb restraining himself as he controlled his hips to not jerk up. Cassana was the opposite, rocking her hips at a steady pace as she took him before relinquishing the slow pace for a frantic one. He watched the way the flames from the hearth highlighted her golden crown, mesmerized by the sight as she forwent all inhibitions and gave herself into pleasure.

Robb lifted himself up, clutching her in his arms as his face went to her chest. He easily ripped her nightgown from her body, relishing in the feel of her skin against his face and hands as he felt along her spine. His kissed every inch of skin he could reach from her throat to the valley of her breasts as she rode him hard. Her head tilted back, her eyes shut in bliss, and her fingers dug into his curls as Robb swirled his tongue around one of her nipples. He bit down and she whimpered.

Pressing into the small of her back, Robb's other hand dove between their bodies and sought out the bundle of nerves between her legs. The added pressure made Cassana clench him harder and Robb almost came from the sensation of her tight cunt around his member. He knows exactly what I like, exactly what I need. It was like he could read her mind, his digits rubbing faster and urging her to finish.

Cassana felt the familiar warmth flood her belly and her legs started to shake as she felt her orgasm wash over her. She didn't stop her ministrations, crying out as she continued to thrust her hips. She desired more of him, riding out her finish as she sought another. And Robb was always one to please, driving his ass up as he sunk deeper into her core from his angle.

Cassana gasped as Robb took control, allowing his wolf inside to push her to the limits. He had never stretched her more and she had to bite her lips to prevent the screams from bursting out or else she would attract the ears of all of Winterfell. She felt blood on her tongue, having broken the skin of her bottom lip. Robb noticed, smirking against her breasts as he quickened his pace. "Robb, Robb, Robb," she murmured, feeling her next climax approach. It was electrifying as she felt a bolt ripple of desire across her body. She could feel Robb's fingers tighten against her waist, sensing he would follow her into the abyss.

"Finish for me," Cassana spoke against his forehead, covering it in kisses as Robb groaned against her. He shuddered, driving himself up and into his wife's center as much as possible as he finished. He couldn't hold back the yell that had been briefly caught in his throat.

Catching their breath, Robb flipped them over and settled between Cassana's legs as he nuzzled against her. "I think the gods gave you to me, the old and the new."

"I think my father gave me to you," Cassana retorted, earning the laughter of her husband.

"And if he had given you to any other man, I swear I would strangle him with my bare hands." Now it was Cassana's turn to giggle, enjoying Robb's envious as well as possessive side. "I'm sorry for the way I treated your uncle. It was wrong of me."

"Wrong, but predicted," Cassana added. "I know you suspect my family, but Tyrion is the least likely to harm a child and threaten my happiness.

"You are happy?" Robb questioned. He was immensely worried that Cassana would dislike Winterfell and the North altogether. The more he cared for her, the more he realized just how desperate he was for her praise, but he would never tell her that.

"More than I ever thought I would be."

What had Jon Arryn wanted with a king's bastard, and why was it worth his life?

A/N: Comments? Feedback?