They took supper in Lord Hoster's solar, a delicious wild boar roasted with mushrooms and apples, but Robb ate distractedly, frowning at his maps as he pushed his food around his plate. Clouds covered the darkening sky, threatening heavy rains. The shadows under Robb's eyes were the color of an old bruise, and the silence was weighted, seemed to pull at Jeyne's skin.
"I intend to march on the Ironborn after Edmure's wedding," Robb said finally, still frowning at his maps.
Jeyne knew this much already; Robb's northern lords were anxious to return home, and Riverrun held few secrets. "How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know. Even if my plan works, and I am able to bring a force on Moat Cailin from the north... it could still come to starving them out. That could mean a year."
"A year?"
Robb reached for her hand, his mouth taking the grim, northern line she'd seen too often of late. "Jeyne, if I should be killed--"
She took a sharp breath; her throat felt tight and a slow ache hollowed her chest. Robb's men spoke too freely in front of Rollam, so she'd heard all the things that were whispered in the dining hall and training yard, about Sansa's Lannister husband and Robb's bastard brother in the Night's Watch. It would be another week before she knew if her blood was coming; she wanted so desperately to give him something besides empty promises, and now he was leaving her, could be gone as long as a year.
"Don't say such things," she whispered finally, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
He looked uncertain, in the way men often did when a woman began to cry, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, bit the inside of her cheek. "If I should be killed," he repeated, more firmly than before, catching her wrist as she tried to pull her hand from his, "I want you to--"
"No," she said, rising from her chair. A hard man with hard gods. He'll need a hard woman, as well. She walked over to him and brushed her fingers through his hair; it was disheveled, curling wildly around his face. "You will not be killed."
"Jeyne."
"If the gods are kind, I am already carrying your child," she said, sliding her hand over his cheek. "Go to Moat Cailin and rid yourself of the Ironborn. If that means a year, then it means a year." She sighed and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I will miss you, but hopefully you will come back to a son we can bring to Winterfell."
--
They said goodbye the first time in the grey hours before dawn, with urgent kisses and grasping hands and his teeth at her neck as he spent his seed inside her. They said it again an hour later, when they should have been eating breakfast; he took her against the wall of his bed chamber, her hands in his hair and his fingers digging into her hips, and she moaned his name as he drew her nipple into his mouth, hoped this time he would leave a piece of himself inside her.
It was raining the last time, and she rode out to meet him, her cloak sodden and her hands shaking with the cold. She barely flinched as Grey Wind approached her, because Grey Wind was a gift and her husband was from the north, and she shouldn't have cried when he touched her cheek, but his hair was wet and his beard was too long and his eyes were the perfect shade of blue.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: FILL: all we ever wanted was everything (Robb/Jeyne, adult)
Date: 2012-03-29 08:06 am (UTC)"I intend to march on the Ironborn after Edmure's wedding," Robb said finally, still frowning at his maps.
Jeyne knew this much already; Robb's northern lords were anxious to return home, and Riverrun held few secrets. "How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know. Even if my plan works, and I am able to bring a force on Moat Cailin from the north... it could still come to starving them out. That could mean a year."
"A year?"
Robb reached for her hand, his mouth taking the grim, northern line she'd seen too often of late. "Jeyne, if I should be killed--"
She took a sharp breath; her throat felt tight and a slow ache hollowed her chest. Robb's men spoke too freely in front of Rollam, so she'd heard all the things that were whispered in the dining hall and training yard, about Sansa's Lannister husband and Robb's bastard brother in the Night's Watch. It would be another week before she knew if her blood was coming; she wanted so desperately to give him something besides empty promises, and now he was leaving her, could be gone as long as a year.
"Don't say such things," she whispered finally, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
He looked uncertain, in the way men often did when a woman began to cry, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, bit the inside of her cheek. "If I should be killed," he repeated, more firmly than before, catching her wrist as she tried to pull her hand from his, "I want you to--"
"No," she said, rising from her chair. A hard man with hard gods. He'll need a hard woman, as well. She walked over to him and brushed her fingers through his hair; it was disheveled, curling wildly around his face. "You will not be killed."
"Jeyne."
"If the gods are kind, I am already carrying your child," she said, sliding her hand over his cheek. "Go to Moat Cailin and rid yourself of the Ironborn. If that means a year, then it means a year." She sighed and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I will miss you, but hopefully you will come back to a son we can bring to Winterfell."
--
They said goodbye the first time in the grey hours before dawn, with urgent kisses and grasping hands and his teeth at her neck as he spent his seed inside her. They said it again an hour later, when they should have been eating breakfast; he took her against the wall of his bed chamber, her hands in his hair and his fingers digging into her hips, and she moaned his name as he drew her nipple into his mouth, hoped this time he would leave a piece of himself inside her.
It was raining the last time, and she rode out to meet him, her cloak sodden and her hands shaking with the cold. She barely flinched as Grey Wind approached her, because Grey Wind was a gift and her husband was from the north, and she shouldn't have cried when he touched her cheek, but his hair was wet and his beard was too long and his eyes were the perfect shade of blue.
"Come back to me," she said.
Robb smiled and said, "I will."
*