Robb I
"An hour?!" Robb Stark exclaimed, his voice a mixture of shock and frustration.
"The sooner it's done, the sooner we can reach King's Landing," Catelyn assured him, her tone calm and resolute.
"What's her name?" Robb asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he realised he should know this before marrying her.
"Her name is Roslin," Catelyn replied, her eyes softening. "She is a sixteen-year-old maid. She seems perfect—she sings, dances, sews, and possesses every quality one could wish for in a lady of the house. But what truly won me over was her courage. She stood up to her father for what she believed was right."
"And she looks?" Robb inquired quietly, his gaze averted, as if embarrassed by his curiosity.
"Extremely beautiful," Catelyn answered with a gentle laugh. "Though I fear you might overshadow her, she is quite small. The northern furs will engulf her." She chuckled softly, and Robb managed a sigh of relief, despite his efforts to hide it.
"I will look after her," Robb vowed, his expression earnest. "I know this marriage isn't how you envisioned it, nor how I did. But she will be my wife and my family, and I will protect her."
"I know you will," Catelyn said softly, cupping his face in her hands. "Now, please, put on a clean shirt for your wedding."
Robb offered her a small, reassuring smile before leaving the tent in a brisk stride.
As Robb stood facing the Septon, the doors to the hall creaked open, announcing the arrival of his new bride. He wrestled with the impulse to turn and see her, aware that his first impression would forever shape his view of her. After a moment's hesitation, he glanced back briefly before redirecting his focus ahead.
Roslin appeared like a vision from a fairytale. Her skin was as pale as the snow that blanketed Winterfell, and her dark mahogany hair made the contrast even larger. She was beautiful, something to be treasured, something to be protected. She moved with an ethereal grace, yet Robb noticed she leaned on the man beside her, probably to steady her nerves. The man was older—her brother, he presumed. Despite his own experience growing up among a large family, he couldn't imagine life in such a sprawling household, especially without a mother. Robb had been given a brief history of Roslin's lineage and how she was close to all 5 of her full-blood brothers especially Perwyn, the oldest, who he believed was walking next to her.
As Roslin approached, Robb heard his mother exhale deeply. He observed that her hands were trembling and her gaze was fixed on the floor, clearly nervous. At this, Roslin and Robb locked eyes for the first time. He saw the fear in her eyes and, in an effort to alleviate her anxiety, he forced a reassuring smile.
The Septon began, "Who comes before both gods this night?"
"Roslin, of House Frey, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn, and noble. She seeks the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" The brother said, struggling with the exact words and Robb could tell he wasn't used to Northern weddings.
"Robb, of House Stark, heir to Winterfell and the North. Who gives her?" Robb responded, snapping his gaze back to the Septon.
"Perwyn, of House Frey, her father's fifteenth son and this lady's brother," Perwyn said clearly, before kissing his sister on the cheek and taking his place on the bride's side.
"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the Septon continued, not waiting for Perwyn to sit fully. Roslin turned her back to Robb, and he carefully removed the worn grey cloak from her shoulders. He then draped his own white cloak, embroidered with a grey direwolf, over her. The cloak was heavy, nearly enveloping her as he adjusted it, tying the strings to secure it.
"Thank you, my Lord," Roslin whispered, her voice barely audible.
"My lords, my ladies," the Septon's voice rang out, "we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Let it be known that Roslin of House Frey and Robb of House Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."
The Septon's pronouncement commanded Robb's attention again. He took Roslin's delicate hands in his, and the Septon bound their hands with a grey ribbon.
"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."
"Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days," Robb said solemnly. Roslin echoed his vows in a soft whisper, "Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days."
In a swift motion, before he could second-guess himself, Robb's lips met Roslin's. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but in that brief moment, he felt the tension in her body dissolve. Although this marriage wasn't as he had hoped, she was now his wife, and he was resolved to protect her.
Roslin's father had left the decoration for the wedding in Roslin's brother Olyvar's hands, he had what Roslin would call a sensitive side and what her father would call weakness. He had simply decorated the Great Hall with a combination of blue Hydrangeas and grey Roses for both Houses and had pulled the tables into 2 long rows down from the central Lords table.
Robb was of course seated next to his new wife on the head table, and she, in turn, had been seated next to her father but he immediately felt sympathy for his mother who had been placed between the senior lord and his child bride. The Northern lords were clustered together but surrounded by Freys, including Perwyn and Olyvar, in a bid to mix before the brothers joined them on the journey south.
As the meal was served the room was in silence with just a few people whispering amongst themselves not wanting to be the first ones to increase the amount of noise.
"Someone bring the pissing wine, the good stuff, no better time to drink it than my favourite daughter's wedding day." His voice boomed across the room and Robb saw Roslin flinch as he began to speak. Moments later, servants returned with jugs of wine, filling the guests' cups with fervour.
"Arbor Gold," Walder Frey declared as his cup was replenished. "My father saved gallons of this stuff for a special day. He only drank one cup, and that was the day he died." He guffawed, finishing his cup in one gulp and raising it for more. Catelyn took a small, polite sip from her own cup before turning her attention to Roslin. The bride made a face at the wine, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of drinking it.
The servant moved to fill Robb's cup, but Robb placed a hand on top, causing Walder Frey's laughter to halt abruptly.
"Is my wine not good enough for the great Lord Stark?" Frey's tone dripped with venom.
The room fell silent, eyes fixed on the head table, waiting for Robb's response. Robb slowly removed his hand from the cup and replied calmly, "We have a long journey tomorrow, and I need to remain fully alert, especially with your daughter's safety now in my hands."
"One cup won't hurt," Frey said dismissively. "I'm not asking you to toast to me or my house; you can drink to my daughter instead." He stood abruptly, raising his cup toward the guests.
"To my beautiful daughter Roslin, the new Lady Stark. May she return with a Stark son or not return at all," he said with a booming laugh. "To Robb Stark, my new son. May House Stark remember who helped them in their time of need." The last remark, though cloaked in humour, carried an ominous undertone. Robb felt inclined to stand and say something but Roslin gave a tight squeeze to his hand before letting go in a way that made him realise that it would not be a good idea and in an attempt to appease his new good-father raised his cup slightly before taking a large swig.
As hours passed, the Great Hall filled with the joyous laughter of Freys and, to Robb's surprise, the deep laughter of several Northern lords mingled with the chuckles from the Riverlanders. The central tables were pushed aside, and the space transformed into a dance floor. Frey girls twirled with grace, while others stumbled. A girl named Alyx, as his mother had introduced her, fell into the arms of Edmure Tully. They soon danced together in a clumsy but endearing manner.
"He can have her for free if he wants a bride or 10 silver stags if he wants a whore" Robb overheard Lord Frey say to his mother through a breathy laugh that visibly made her uncomfortable. Robb shot his mother a disapproving look, knowing that Edmure might be tempted by Frey's offer. He did not want to give Walder Frey any more leverage by allowing him to broker a marriage with House Tully.
Catelyn slowly rose from her seat, her movement drawing the attention of the remaining guests. "I am retiring for the night, thank you Lord Frey for your hospitality" she announced, her voice soft but resolute. As she prepared to leave, she leaned in to press a tender kiss on Roslin's cheek, then turned to gently cup Robb's face with her hands.
As Catelyn departed, a ripple of movement followed through the hall. The young girls, who had been chattering and giggling earlier, now began to leave in quick succession. The remaining women trickled out in small groups over the next hour, until only Roslin remained. She appeared weary, her eyes struggling to stay open, but she valiantly fought to remain upright. Robb rose abruptly. His movement halted the music and laughter, casting a sudden, heavy silence over the hall. All eyes turned to him, apart from Roslin's gaze that remained fixed on the cold ham on her plate, now as unappetizing as the lifeless remains of Robert Baratheon.
Robb extended a hand to Roslin, which she took with a visible sigh of relief. She rose from her seat, her delicate frame looking up at him with a mixture of apprehension and resignation. Robb had spent his life looking up to towering figures like Lord Jon Umber, but now he found himself in the unfamiliar position of being down at his new bride.
"Please, continue," Robb urged to the rest of the hall, his voice firm but gentle, as he guided Roslin down a quiet corridor. An awkward silence enveloped them, broken only by the distant echoes of laughter that resumed once they were out of sight. Roslin led him to the guest chamber prepared for them, a small room nestled high in one of the castle's towers. She stepped aside, allowing Robb to open the door.
"Thank you, my Lord," Roslin murmured, her voice barely a whisper. She spoke so softly that Robb became so concentrated on her that he forgot to step into the room. He eventually broke out of his daydream stepping through the doors, removing his cape the minute Roslin closed the door.
"Please, just Robb. I spend every day dealing with people who I have known since boyhood calling me Lord. If anyone's going to call me by my name it's going to be my wife." he said softly, his tone imbued with earnestness.
Roslin nodded but remained by the door, her face filling with a growing anxiety. Robb examined the small room that contained just a bed and vanity and saw a grey silk nightdress laid out on the bed, and little else. His gaze flickered to Roslin as she stood motionless, the weight of the evening evident in her posture.
He removed his jacket, boots, and the rest of his outer garments, leaving himself in just his trousers and shirt. "Roslin," he said, approaching her and gently taking her hands in his, "you are my family now. I vow to keep you safe always." He walked behind her and carefully removed the Stark cloak she wore. As it fell away, her shoulders seemed to relax, a fleeting sense of relief passing over her features.
Standing before her, he rolled up his sleeves and spoke with a voice tinged with regret. "I don't want this, you know. It's not you—you're beautiful, the most beautiful lady I've ever seen. It's just... I don't know you yet. In another time, under different circumstances, I would wait. But I am reliant on your father's support, and I fear he might use any reason against me."
"I understand, Robb," Roslin replied softly, her voice trembling. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and shared unease. Robb, seeking to ease the tension, gently stroked her arm and then her hand with his thumb.
"Do you need help with your dress?" he asked, attempting to be as considerate as possible.
Roslin nodded, turning her back to him. The intricate knots of her dress were a challenge, but Robb's deft fingers worked patiently until they fell apart. With Roslin's assistance, the dress slipped to the floor, revealing her delicate undergown.
He walked up behind her and ran his hand down her shoulder; her body shivered as he did so. He turned her around to see her but instead, he was greeted with her eyes looking straight down, gently he put his hand on her chin and lifted it up so that their eyes met.
"Lay down on the bed," He said in the gentlest voice he could muster. She obeyed. He climbed on top of her and was so close he could hear her breathing become more rapid. "Just try to breathe"
Robb felt all of her muscles tense as he slipped out of his underwear and threw them onto the floor. She closed her eyes as he slowly got closer and closer to her.
"I need to do this once and then we don't have to until you're comfortable" Robb murmured but he wasn't sure if he was telling her or himself.
Her grip tightened on the bedsheets as he pushed into her, Robb continued to move as slowly as possible, resisting the urge to pull out and comfort her. He hated this, he had wanted a bride who would want him in her bed, wanted her to desire him as he desires her. Suddenly his breathing became more erratic as he began to speed up before he eventually spilled inside her.
He placed a hand to her face which caused her to open her eyes and stare into his, after a few moments he said, "I am so sorry, but I promise I will wake up every day and fight for you to forgive me"
Robb moved to the bed, retrieving his undergarments from the floor and pulling them on before removing his shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Roslin, allowing her the privacy she needed to change into her nightdress. The room was filled with an uncomfortable quiet as she quickly prepared herself for bed. She quietly slid beneath the sheets, and Robb followed, positioning himself on the far edge of the bed to avoid any accidental touch.
Robb lay on his side, his thoughts a tangled mess of uncertainty and fear. He longed to speak, to bridge the gap between them but found himself at a loss for words. Suddenly, Roslin reached out and placed her hand on his face, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. The gentle gesture drew Robb's attention, and he instinctively pulled her closer, allowing her to rest her face against his bare chest. The steady rise and fall of her breathing was a small comfort as he listened to it.
"Thank you for saving me," she said quietly.