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Who: Robb & Jeyne
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Robb wakes up and there is Jeyne
When: Right after the Halloween party

When darkness surrounds him it almost feels as a relief. The pain ebbs away and the screams around him subside. The vivid thoughts about Grey Wind become blurry. Yet, Roose Bolton's words remain. They echo inside his head in an obnoxious persistent way.

'Jaime Lannister sends his regards'

He murmurs the words in his sleep, stirring underneath the blankets. Now he knows what others have known for a long time. And he realizes that he had always told himself that he would undo it, that he would throw himself out of a window. That he would fight. But when returning to the Twins he knew nothing anymore. The song that started it wasn't one familiar to his ears, yet his lady mother turned pale when hearing it. It was then when the arrows started to fly.

But when everything turns dark he starts to remember different things. Ships and space. And the faces of the people he calls his friends. His siblings are there as well. It feels as if one world bleeds into another. One memory changes into something else. They become more bright, more full of hope.

'Jaime Lannister sends his regards'

And that is when Robb's eyes open and he suddenly moves to sit up straight, breathing heavily, a hand dropping to his chest. He is alive and he is inside his room at space ship called the Blue Fish...

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A heavy sigh escapes Robb’s mouth as guilt starts to settle in again. Raynald had gone with him. The gods only know what the Freys must have done to him. To everyone. When she says his name he snaps out of it a little, his blue eyes focusing on her face again. He musters a bit of a smile but does not move any further. It does not help when he tells himself to be strong because he simply does not feel that way. He feels to weak to even pretend that he is strong.

One thing that he has learned here is that he has to be open up to others. That it would not do to keep everything bottled up inside. Here he has no army he has to prove himself to. And it helps that she is talking to him, her voice sure. As if she has never lost faith in him after all that has happened.

“If you wish me to be, Jeyne.” Because somehow it hard to imagine that she still wants to be with him. He has ruined them all, everyone. Her family, his own family, his mother’s family and all those good lords and their houses. How could he properly enjoy himself here while knowing that?

He does not answer her question and closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying the way she is stroking his hair. It soothes his mind a little and it shows in the way how his breathing finally evens out and his shoulders slump a little. No, he does not want her to go but he cannot muster the words anymore.

She can see the struggle written plainly on his face. They may have only been wed a short amount of time, but she had tried to learn all she could about him. Her husband was a man that kept his emotions guarded closely against his heart. He rarely smiled and his thoughts were concealed behind a rigid mask. She had done her best to scale his walls and learn to read his face as plainly as though he were speaking the words.

He didn't need to be a king here and he didn't need to ignore himself for the sake of others. What he remembered would be enough to strike down any man with fear and self loathing, but Robb had it in him to rise again and face the challenge with courage. All he needed to do was believe that he was capable of it.

"I do wish you to be, Robb." She told him gently, feeling him relax against her. It was the only confirmation that she needed that he wanted her to stay. "I love you. I am yours and you are mine."

She continued to stroke his hair, humming softly as she had when she tended to him at the Crag. So long as he wanted her, she would remain with him.

Even when she speaks he remains silent. His head feels heavy and full. As if his brains cannot absorb any information anymore. It is odd that he has wished for this and now that it is truly happening he does not feel happy at all.

He feels melancholic. Sad. Overwhelmed. The memories of his own death still cling to him like a pair of gruesome wet breeches. How can you love a corpse? A memory?

Finally he pulls back and rubs his eyes, frowning deeply and looking more like a really old man than a sixteen year old who just visited his homeland to die.

"You can stay..." he says while pressing his back against the wall behind him. "I would not dare to send you away. You must have waited a long time." 'For a corpse to live again'.

Be patient, she reminds herself, even as hurt registered across her face. Be understanding. After all that he went through, she shouldn't expect him to open to her in the ways that he had once before. He suffered more than the loss of his brothers and home this time.

Still, it didn't lessen the sting. She folded her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her fingers as she often did when she was uncomfortable or unhappy. She was a child, as he was, while she had not suffered death (or the horrors that he had undergone), she had suffered betrayal and the feeling that she had lost her family.

He couldn't help the state of his mind, she knew this. Yet it didn't change how much she needed to feel wanted and loved. Or even the simple act of being allowed to help him through this difficult time. It seemed that she would have to scale his walls once again.

Be patient, she told herself again. He's suffered a fright.

"If that's what you wish," she said softly. "It was near a week? Not as long as others waited, I imagine." Despite the advice in her head and the memory of Catelyn urging her the same, Jeyne spoke quickly, "Don't shut me out, Robb. Don't push me away. Please."

Edited 2016-11-06 18:36 (UTC)

Robb moves his hands through his hair and for a brief moment he wonders when that happiness would come and take over. Isn't it good to see Jeyne again? To have her next to him every night? To feel her hands around him? To love?

He looks at her and all he feels is guilt. And next to that he feels more guilt. Absolute crippling guilt. Once again he can feel his shoulders tense up and they tense up further when he sees that he has hurt her. It was that thing she did with her fingers.

And he wants to tell her that she should not feel hurt and he wants to smile at her mentioning that others might've waited longer, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He wants to kiss her again and reach out to her but his body won't move.

Nothing happens. And he feels like the biggest craven ever.

Courage, she tells herself, pushing forward away from the precipice of grief and loneliness. She had her fill of it, yet Robb was still stuck in the mire of his own. Setting aside her hurt and worry, Jeyne took a steadying breath and moved to sit next to him on the bed. She couldn't be sure if it was wanted or not, but she would give him her presence in the off chance that he might find it comforting.

Taking his hands in hers, she lifts his fingers so that she might brush a kiss against them. Her eyes held his, imploring and sad, hoping some how through touch to reach him once again. There had been a moment before, a solitary moment where it seemed that he was finding his strength once more. He had it in him and she wasn't about to let him slip away behind his walls.

She pressed his palm against her cheek, feeling her courage bolster from his touch (even if it was by her own prompting). She didn't say anything, hoping to somehow revive him through the same tenderness and gentle love that she had offered throughout their marriage.

Robb sees her stand and move towards him. Her hair seems to be longer than he remembers but it is still as curly. And her face is still lovely and kind. Her hands are warm when she takes her and so are her lips. It is all so familiar that it hurts. Gods, why does it hurt? It should not hurt and he should smile.

She looks so sad. And that is his fault too.

When he feels his fingers slide of her cheek he sighs deeply. His fingers bend a little, pressing against her skin in a more firm way. And before he knows it his fingers are threading through her hair, combing it aside to expose more of her face. She must have been grieving and missing him. And in some sort of twisted way this bloody place was their last forever.

She had thought she remembered every inch of him, the planes of his body and the beauty of his face. Yet her memories could not recreate or compare to seeing him in the flesh. The feel of his calloused hands were more gentle than a feather bed. She'd been waiting for his touch, starving for him.

It hurts to see him so unhappy and afraid. She had seen him at his lower moments, struck by betrayal and loss, but it didn't compare to this. However she might tug him back from that darkness, she would try.

She leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Shifting closer to him, she reached out and caressed his cheek once more, feeling the same stubble that had scratched her skin when they first made love. She smiled shyly at him, hoping to see that spark once more in his eyes.

"I love you," she told him again.

Robb feels as if he is drifting right there between worlds. A part of his brain is still processing the look on lord Bolton's face before said lord's steel pierced his chest and the other part is right here and now, drinking in the sight of his lovely wife. He wishes he could snap out of it and will himself to feel happiness again.

He remembers her touches well. They were curious at first and grew more and more bold with every day. Just like his. The more they learned about their bodies, the more they wanted each other in such a way.

"I know you do..." Robb whispers, eyes closing the moment her fingers slide over his cheek. "I remember that. I remember you... Jeyne..." Still, the look in his eyes remains the same, even when he tries to gather himself. To focus on thoughts that matter. On her fingers on his cheeks, on the warmth of her lips.

"I remember I love you. That did not change."

"It didn't?" She felt silly asking for reassurance in that. From what others had told her, he had spoken of her often in this place. The words leading them to believe that he would be happy to see her. She hadn't let herself hope that it was true, still burdened with guilt and fear at how he might view her now, given all that had happened. Hearing him say that he loves her returned the color to her cheeks and a sunniness to her smile.

"Do you remember other things?" She felt shy, in the same way she was shortly after their marriage. Despite having bedded him before, he was still a mystery to her at that time. Pleasing him had been her greatest wish, but she knew so little about what he liked and enjoyed. It was almost as though she were cast back to that time. "Do you remember our talks at night after..." after their passions were spent. Her face burned against his touch. "Or when I would mend your shirt and we'd sit together?"

She wanted to surround him with better memories, to chase away the unpleasant. There was warmth in their past, nestled alongside the painful. He was fighting a battle in his mind and she hoped these gentle reminders would draw him back towards the pleasant.

Pushing aside any remaining worries she had, Jeyne leaned closer to him and brushed a kiss against his lips.

"No..." Robb shakes his head slowly and sighs again. "I had always hoped...that I would see you again... After I heard of what I...went through." The frown on his face becomes deep now. "...My death. The betrayal. I thought of you a lot, no, I always thought of you."

Robb always thought of her. Like a boy in love would do. And after saying that he gazes down again, his eyes focused on the blanket underneath them. But as a king he thought of her differently. Why didn't she get pregnant? Was she barren? His kingdom needed a heir.

"Yes. I tend to make many holes in my shirts... Especially after sparring with Raynald. He is...was...surprisingly fast with his sword. He caught me unawares many times..." Finally he looks up again and the moment he does that she kisses him.

"I feel...as if I do not deserve that. This."

She couldn't talk about his death. So much of what happened had been wrapped up in the actions of her family and her eventual future with the Lannisters. It wasn't a topic that she wanted to focus on, even when she was on her own. Being with Robb made it harder for her to stomach. "I thought of you as well." It was the safest thing to say and the most heartfelt. "Always."

She didn't know the reason for why she never became pregnant, but part of her wondered whether or not her mother had been truthful about the mixtures. She had deceived her daughter on so much else, it wasn't unreasonable to think that the betrayal ran deeper.

The mention of her brother brought tears to her eyes. He had been Robb's most faithful supporter and given his life for his good-brother. That at least removed some of the stigma and shame that her mother had brought on their family.

"Don't deserve this? What do you mean?" She asked, running her thumb against his cheek softly. "Of course you deserve it."

Edited 2016-11-06 21:59 (UTC)

He tries gathering his thoughts. Some are rational and some are born from hope. The struggle tires him all over again.

"At times when you fell asleep I watched you and I thought of...I had foolish dreams of returning to Winterfell with you and have a big family. We spoke of it as well. We even named our sons." Slowly, very slowly, Robb moves away again. "It saddens me that I will never get to have them."

Now he isn't looking at the blankets anymore. His eyes are wide and he is gazing at her face.

"I will never see the face of my own son. And I will not see Winterfell. Burned or not. And I will not be there with you."

Once again he shakes his head, not realizing that every bit of him is Robb speaking, not some king from some throne.

"If I would die, I wanted it to be on the battlefield. Not in front of lord Frey, mocking me as they... Not there!"

"I had those dreams as well," she said softly, her hands resting against her flat stomach. She had been hopeful, with the same measure of optimism she displayed now in lifting Robb's spirits. Yet a child did not come and she had born that scrutiny as quietly and calmly as possible. The fault wasn't Robb's and (she suspected) it wasn't hers either. "I still have them, even though I am here. I will always have those dreams and I'm not surrendering belief that something might be possible for us. Some sort of future."

They could never go back to their world, but from what Sansa had said, it might be possible for them to go to another. It was worth considering.

She reached for him, clasping his head between her hands as she looked into his eyes. "We won't be there, but nothing is over yet! We may be in a different realm, but you are alive here and you are surrounded by a large family. You have friends, you have your siblings, you have me. Whatever happens in this world, it at least gave you a second chance!"

It was horrible to picture, either end. Death on the battlefield would have been honorable, but it would have broken her just the same. She swallowed her tears, finding that ferocity in herself again. She didn't want to lose Robb or let him slide back towards the kingly role. She wanted him to hear her and to see her sincerity.

"We haven't lost a chance at a life together, Robb. Please don't give up."

Edited 2016-11-07 05:44 (UTC)

Robb considers her words, staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face. Not that she is talking nonsense, not at all. He just tries to picture a future, one far away from Roose Bolton's sword and arrows hitting him. And he knows he has to be strong. For himself, for her, for all of them. Despite everything that he knows and will know, he should be the one they could turn to when there was any sort of trouble.

Once he has been their king but now he just wants to be their brother, their friend and, in Jeyne's case, a proper husband.

"I wish it was that easy... I cannot forget..." he whispers, fingers threading through her hair, wondering if he is giving up. He feels so tired and worn down. Like every last bit of him lacks the energy to get up again and face all that is in front of him. To see the good. "I wish..." He stops talking and takes his time to frown again.

"Will you kiss me, Jeyne?"

He is so strong. That was something that she always loved and admired in him. Beyond the battlefield, he had assumed the mantle of a leader, presiding over his own house after such a tragedy. Yet he did it out of concern for his family and love for his father's memory. There was no one quite like Robb and she had no intention of marrying to a lesser man when she had the best.

She can see the fatigue on him. That same worn and weary expression he had born throughout the battle. It frightened her, raising the anxiety and nerves that she had always tried to keep at bay for his sake. He didn't need to shoulder her burdens when he had so many of his own.

His request was met with a shy smile, blush appearing as it often did when intimacy was raised between them. "Of course I will." She had kissed him before, but it was chaste and reassuring. When she leaned in this time, it was a deeper kiss that she offered him. As always, it sent a shiver through her, as her lips parted for him and her fingers tangled in his hair.

He keeps watching her, wondering what she'd do. Words do not come easy anymore, it is as if they are stuck inside his throat and do not want to come out anymore. And if he would say anything he would push her away, he would prove himself weak and tired.

"Thank you..." Robb hears himself murmur, smiling just a little before he can feel her lips cover his, parting slightly and inviting him for something deeper, something more. A shudder goes through his body and he is not sure if it is relief or that it stems from a certain desire for warmth and love. Or maybe both. His thoughts are a mess.

He places his hands on her cheeks and parts his lips as well, kissing her back slowly. Everything feels so familiar that it hurts. Like coming home while home is nothing but an illusion and a dream far away.

The time for words had passed. She had waited for a reunion like this for over a week, hoping that nothing would change between him and that he would desire her as he once did. It was such a blessed relief to know he wanted her kisses, just as he wanted her.

She shifted, moving so that she could sit on his lap, careful not to break the kiss. She curled herself against him, letting kiss remain languid and romantic. She was exploring him again, familiarizing herself once more with the taste and feel of him. Desire flooded her fast and hot, kindling the longing that had existed in her into an inferno.

Despite her wish not to distress him, she can feel a few lone tears spill free. Her emotions overpowering her determination to remain strong for him. She had missed him and this. Just the touch of him.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and tight against her. Without words, she wanted him to know how much she loved him.

Eventually tears start to burn in his eyes as well. He needed this more than he could ever imagine and he finds himself overcome with emotions. Ones that come from dying, from wanting and not being allowed to want, from needing and never allow himself anything. From missing her fiercely.

For once her presence manages to drown out the presence Roose Bolton has left inside of him. He feels her body against him, hands moving as if she had to memorize every bit of him again and finally she pulls him into a tight embrace. And the need is suddenly overwhelming, coming over him like a wave.

His arms wrap themselves around her, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. He is crying and kissing her at the same time and notices how their kiss slowly changes from slow and intense to something desperate and full of fire.

Once she feels his tears against her skin, she lets her emotions free. Everything that she had held back and had to carry in her loneliness and isolation is released, racing through the ferocity and desperation of her kisses. She had held herself together for so long, missing him but resigning herself to the endless sorrow of widowhood. With one touch, she felt herself crumble until she was clutching him and chasing his embrace with overwhelming fire.

The feel of his body, the heaviness of their breathing, it rushes about her like a torrent, pulling her back into memories that she had been afraid to relive. It was so similar to their first time, when he drowned his mourning in her body, releasing his anguish within her. Only now, it was a mutually shared grief. They had been apart for so long, their reunion deserved to shake the world.

She pressed his hand over her heart, letting him feel the steady rhythm and to remind himself that she was truly here. She clutched him tightly against her, becoming oppressively hot beneath his touch.

"Don't cry...don't..." Robb whispers between their kisses, his lips swollen from the intensity of them. Finally he presses his lips against her cheek in an attempt to kiss those tears away. "You should not cry..." He murmurs the words against her skin, breathing heavily. It felt like the first time they kissed. Where grief consumed him and guilt washed over him and all he could do was drown himself in her presence.

At some point he is sure that he cannot stop kissing her, claiming her lips and mouth over and over again. As if the world was going to end. And when she places his hand on her heart he smiles against her lips, murmuring her name.

She couldn't stop her tears. What began as grief had changed to joy. She nuzzled into him, showering his face with kisses in return. A small giggle poured from her as she beamed at him in amazement. "You're here," her words nothing more than a murmur against his lips. "You're really here."

For her, it felt as if the world had begun again. She felt alive in his arms, her mind and body pulling itself from the tomb that she had constructed around her heart. Wrapped in his embrace, she was safe and she was home once more.

As she caressed his hair and neck, her fingers slipped beneath his shirt color, feeling the planes of his back. The sudden exposure to his body dragged a soft moan of desire from her lips. While she was normally shy about such things, she followed the prompting of her lust and hunger. She tugged quickly at the buttons of her dress, pulling at her sleeves until her bodice had been removed for him.

Her words make him chuckle softly. "I could say the same of you..." Because she was here. She was truly here, her body moving against his and her mouth on his skin, hands sneaking underneath his shirt. It is obvious that they have lost all reservations and doubts and when he notices how fast she is getting out of half her dress he cannot help a soft groan.

They are both here. And it feels as if it has been forever since they last had each other like this.

Once again he presses his lips to hers, pulling her into another deep and long kiss while covering one of her exposed breasts with his hand, squeezing firmly. And once again he cannot help groaning into the kiss, desiring her more than anything in the entire universe.

"I can hardly believe it myself," she said with a breathless laugh. It had felt like a dream before, but never so much as this moment. Given all that she had been told, he had been waiting for her, just as she had been waiting for him. The gods were kinder than she believed and allowed them to find one another once more.

His groans sent shivers racing down her spine towards her nether regions. She pulled at his shirt, lifting it up so that she could run her hands over the expanse of his chest and sides, feeling once more the muscles that she had loved.

She wanted to be his wife in all ways again. To share his bed, to rest in his heart and to hear him whisper her name in the midst of desire. "I love you," she told him once more, burning as each word passed through her lips.

Edited 2016-11-09 05:17 (UTC)

It feels like ages since he has been with a woman and it is no surprise that the situation between his legs becomes quite dire in quite a fast way. There has never really been a problem with his libido after they got married. In fact, bedding her makes him forget his troubles for a while, a pleasant, warm relief from every day stress. From the weight of his crown. From his men asking him questions he could barely answer. From the angry glares he got from some.

He declaration of love makes him warm up and he looks up at her, smiling broadly, forgotten about the suffering he experienced back there inside lord Frey’s great hall. “You will have my heart forever,” he replies before pressing another kiss on her lips, both of his hands busying themselves with her breasts now. Each touch overly eager and firm, as if he has to discover them all over again.

“I forgot how perfect your teats are, Jeyne...” he half-groans, half-murmurs, pressing himself close to her again so he can try to peel the rest of her dress away from her.

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