robb_stark (robb_stark) wrote in antecedents, @ 2010-09-17 03:06:00 |
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"We leave at dawn tomorrow."
"Allow me, my lord... allow me to accompany you."
"We've already discussed this. I can't have you in danger. You will be safer here."
"What sort of wedding are you going to that would be dangerous? I am your wife, so... please be honest with me. I know that lady Catelyn does not love me. It was she who asked that I stay, wasn't it?"
"This has nothing to do with my mother. ... And you're wrong about that. She is just not used to you yet. We surprised her with our marriage, you know that."
"Surprised, and disappointed."
Robb frowned, seeing the way his young wife avoided his eyes now. Sixteen years old, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, with a heart shaped face framed by soft brown curls. And that was, of course, why everyone thought the two had gotten married. He had broken his promise to the Freys to elope with the first pretty girl he had a bit of alone time with. It had been his first act as king that finally showed his own young age. But that wasn't entirely true; there were many other reasons Robb had come to love Jeyne in two short weeks. She was kind, considerate, thoughtful. Complacent, but not too meek. She was well bred, being the daughter of a lord, but unlike him, she hadn't had to grow up too fast. When he was with her, he was able to feel like the teenager he was, at least some of the time. There were other times, though, where he had to pull her to his side of things, where they were adults with responsibilities and obligations.
"Disappointed in me, yes, but not in you. She doesn't even know you yet, how could she be? By the time we have a child, she'll be happy enough to forgive our lack of formal wedding."
Jeyne didn't respond to that. It was a sore topic between them. They had been married for nearly two months now, and despite having tried for a child almost every single day-- sometimes more than once-- they'd had no luck. She had sought help from some of the older women living at Riverrun for this, and had been given mixtures to drink that would supposedly increase her likelihood to conceive. That had done no good. Other women suggested certain positions during intercourse should guarantee her a child, while others swore that it was the position after the deed was done that mattered the most. They'd attempted even the most ridiculous sounding suggestions and still there was no child.
"Sometimes the fault lies with the man," one woman had told her, but she would never communicate that to him. Yes, there were certain nights they'd tried and he hadn't been able to give her his seed, but how could she fault him for that? His home, thousands of miles away, was in ruins, his brothers were dead, and he was constantly fighting battles that he might not walk away from. If he did not have an heir to succeed him, Winterfell would go to Sansa and her new husband, a Lannister. No one could fault him for being stressed. More often than not though, he did his duty, so the fault must have fallen on her.
Still, she dared not voice the words aloud maybe I will never be able to give you a child because then what use would she be to her king?
"You will," he repeated himself, his voice softer now.
She nodded her head. "I will give you sons," she replied, her voice finding strength from a place inside her that she was time and time again surprised existed. "Sons named Bran and Rickon, and other ones too. I will give you daughters as well, so that your mother will have girls to dote on." She smiled at him.
This was the side of Jeyne that Robb wished everyone else could see. That he wished Catelyn could see. It was a son he needed, but the thought of a daughter was a pleasant one too. Though his mother had not accepted it yet, Robb was sure Arya must be dead-- no one had heard from her in so long, there was no way that a highborn girl could of escaped anyone's notice for months and months. And now any chance of having Sansa returned was gone, married off to Tyrion as she was. Regretful that Jaime Lannister was already on his way back to King's Landing now, though perhaps Brienne would not agree to the exchange if Cersei had neither daughter to return to her. Once they were within the city, though, Robb couldn't imagine she'd be able to walk back out with Jaime with her. It had been Catelyn's decision to release him, while Robb had been away at battle. Many people had come to strongly dislike his mother for this 'womanly weakness' she had shown, for acting without their king's word, but what's done was done, and Robb didn't hold anything against her for it. The Kingslayer had been the most valuable hostage they would ever have, but he wanted to see his sisters again as much as she.
He had kissed her after that, and the two spent their last night together intertwined for hours. When they were done and it was time for sleep, he wrapped his arms around her naked body and held her close to his chest. "You will have my son," he assured her quietly as he kissed her shoulder. "I can already feel him," he joked as he pressed his palm to her sadly concave stomach. She giggled at that, and cuddled closer to him.
He only hoped the words he said were true. He may very well die before he could return to Riverrun for her, this may of been the last time he could ever hold her. He thought of his father, who had left him in his mother's belly before he'd gone off to fight in a war. But he'd returned, and given her four more children. Why couldn't he even give Jeyne one?
When he would awake the next morning, he would have to put all these thoughts aside, and concentrate only on his future battles. He thought he was prepared for that...
"Your Grace," came the voice of Meera Reed, who stood at the entrance of one of the three conical tents she had set up herself.
Robb rubbed the sleep from his eyes, turned over and looked at his visitor. Only a year younger than him, she was a skinny stick of a girl, with long limbs and a slender build. She kept her long brown hair tied in a ponytail, and she dressed in hunting leathers. She had proven herself to be fast, resourceful, and smart. Robb was glad to have her with them. The Reeds had sworn their fealty to Winterfell hundreds of years past, and her father had once been friends with his own. Befriending her had felt as natural as anything.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked.
"I was dreaming..."
She looked at him curiously. "Of Grey Wind?"
"No...of..." He realized he didn't want to talk of it. "Why would you think I would dream about Grey Wind?"
"Your brother dreams of Summer."
"Bran's different." Bran was special. What he did, no one else could do anything like that. When Robb had learned of his ability to not only see through Summer's eyes, but to become his direwolf, he'd scarcely believed his ears. But Bran insisted, and told him how one night he'd even seen Jon through Summer's eyes, but Jon was being attacked, so he'd come to help him as Summer. They'd hit Summer with arrows, but Jon had managed to get away, and Summer, thankfully, recovered from his wounds. He told Robb about how he'd felt Summer's pain, how it had kept him from entering his body for awhile, until he was better. The way he described it in such detail, Robb eventually accepted that Bran wasn't making this up.
"We call people like Bran wargs," Meera had told Robb. She seemed like she knew a lot about wargs, and had been the one who'd instructed his younger brother in the ways of getting used to his newfound power. Yet Meera herself did not possess an extraordinary power. Her brother, Jojen, had prophetic dreams. But she was merely an ordinary girl, albeit one a bit learned beyond her years.
"Bran is different," Meera agreed. Then she said, "I came to tell you that breakfast is ready."
"Boiled frog?" Robb had asked with a sleepy smile, still waking up. They seemed to be the girl's favorite food, she caught so many of them. No one was complaining when it what was keeping them alive, but after a couple of weeks, they were in sore need of a little variety.
"No, Bran had Summer catch us a badger."
"I'll be out in a minute."
She nodded, and left him. Pushing aside the pelt he'd been sleeping underneath, Robb went about dressing himself for the day. They weren't too far from a stream, which had allowed them to keep their clothes as well as their bodies clean (enough). His beard had grown in thick around his jaw in the weeks he'd been here. He'd shaved it off when he'd married Jeyne, but he actually preferred it this way-- it made him look older than sixteen. He couldn't remember ever seeing his father without one, either.
Emerging from the tent, he saw that everyone was already gathered around the fire. The sun couldn't of rose anymore than an hour or two ago, but they'd all grown accustomed to getting up early, either in their time here, or from before. When he saw the size of the thing that was cooking, he praised Bran for his find.
"There should be enough that we'll have some left over for a stew tonight," Meera said.
"I like stew," Tommen said. He was one year younger than Bran, a plump child with golden hair and rosy cheeks and bright green eyes. "With little bits of ham and sour cream and peppers." He smiled at the prospect.
Robb had to smile too. The boy had the blood of his enemies in his veins, the child of the woman who had let his father die, but he had proven himself to be nothing like the members of his family that Robb knew and hated. He could not hate the child simply on the grounds he hated his brother. "I don't think Meera can make anything that gourmet..."
"We have dandelion greens, cattail root, and some leeks left over," Meera had followed up, "They will make a tasty stew."
"Yum," Tommen replied, not seeming at all disappointed he couldn't have his first choice. In the time he'd known her, she'd made them a lot of good things to eat, even if her recipes were kind of weird. The one time his mother had caught him trying to chew on something he'd found on a bush outside, she had quickly gotten it out of his hands, so this was almost fun for him, like he was sneaking a sweet or something only adults got to eat. Of course that was far from the case, these were no delicacies they were dining on, and all of them had dropped a couple of pounds on such a diet. But they weren't starving either, and there was usually something to eat everyday, so they couldn't complain.