The Storming of the Crag

[goodandtrue]

"It would do well for us, Jeyne, if you would nurse the Young Wolf back to health." So Jeyne's mother had told her. Her mind felt as besieged as the Crag had been days before. The relative peace of her childhood home had ended when Jamie Lannister had first called the banners, drawing her father away from his family to help the Kingslayer march against Robb Stark, the rebel king. News had trickled slowly back to the Westerlings, news of the various victories that had been achieved in the Riverlands, as well as Jamie's confidence that soon the rebellion would be squashed and the Starks sent running back to the North.

So they had all been lead to hope, but Robb Stark had been underestimated. Despite his youth, he had defied expectations and driven back the Lannister forces, eventually overrunning the Kingslayer before taking him hostage along with her father. When the news arrived, it had broken the innocence that Jeyne had lived under, plunging her into the realities of war.

For the Westermen that returned home injured or missing limbs, she helped tend to them, brew concoctions alongside her mother and making them as comfortable as possible. She had not been spared the brutalities of the battlefield, seeing first hand what could come from such rage and bloodshed. It was why, when she heard that the Stark forces were marching on the Crag, she understood how devastating the toll would be.

Like her mother, she attempted to adopt a brave face, even as the Stark soldiers volleyed arrows and rammed the gates. As men fell, men she knew and loved, Jeyne watched with horror, seeing monstrosities and carnage that she never could imagined. A giant beast roamed the battlefield, tearing apart the Westerling soldiers, including a boy that Jeyne had played with when they were children. She watched all of this from the tower, standing beside her mother as the battle shifted in the favor of the Young Wolf, as though there were any other conclusion.

It was only after the battle that Jeyne had learned that the losses were well balanced on both sides. Robb Stark's soldiers had fallen as well, many cut down at the siege of the gate, the Westerling arrows well shot and true. For all of his luck, Robb Stark had not escaped injury. He had been shot as well, the arrow tip managing to only strike him in the arm, having missed his heart.

The situation was now an ironic one. Her home had been seized and the Westerlings were now prisoners, but her family was urging for her to nurse the Young Wolf back to health. It was a task she dreaded, as she had no idea what to expect (or even what her mother hoped would come out of this, if anything). For her brothers and sister, she did as she was bid, finding herself moved by the severity of his injury and how hopeless he seemed.

For days, the fever lasted and Robb seemed to exist between a state of twilight and consciousness. It was only when he was asleep that Jeyne allowed herself to analyze him, assessing his features and youth. He was near her age and handsome, far more than she had first assumed. There was a heaviness about him, a maturity that she did not often see among the boys of her lands. He responded well to her gentle touches, even seeming to hear her as she sang to him in his sleep.

Finally, after near a week, Robb had recovered enough to sit up in his bed and actually speak. His men had need of him and wished a moment of his time. There were decisions to be made about prisoners (herself now included) as well as messages from the North. She excused herself, running a few errands about the castle as she gathered more supplies. His bandages would need to be changed.

When she returned, she found an entirely different scene than when she left. Robb was left alone and the message that had arrived for him was crumpled in his hands. He seemed broken, older than his years and smothered with sorrow. She approached slowly, having set her supplies to the side. "Your grace?" She asked gently, her fingers fidgeting as they often did when she was nervous. "Is something wrong?"

Comments

[kingofbadlifechoices]

This is it. This is the thing he has been longing for without knowing it entirely. Every bit of tension inside his body disappears while every nerve seems to be twice as sensitive. And truly, he did not want this to stop. He wants all of it and more. If there would be a possibility for people to disappear into each other he'd probably go for it.

He has forgotten about his throbbing arm and the weight of his crown, all there is left is this. These sensations. The way she moans and sighs, the sound of their bodies making contact. In a way it is impossible to want so much and actually manage to take it. It is too much. It feels as if his body can't handle this any further and he can't stop trembling.

"Don't stop..." he whispers against her lips. "Move like that...just like that..." Robb can feel how his nails dig into the soft flesh of her ass, as if he wants to egg her on, convince her that stopping would end them both.

[goodandtrue]

She couldn't stop if she wanted to, not only because of the feeling he stirred to life in her but also because he had already taken her maiden head. The sacrifice was made and she didn't care, so long as she could chase that sweet feeling to its end. Her hips rocked more wildly, the slap of skin filling the air, barely covering her moans and sharp breaths. Others might hear, others might know, but the keep was still. Her family slept as did Robb's men. Eventually his guards would return, but she didn't care what they thought of her. This was what she wanted, him inside of her, pushing her towards that culmination she only had ever reached with her hands.

"This?" Her hips undulated, repeating the action that seemed to earn that reaction from him. She clenched her walls again, straining to contain herself at the feeling of him moving inside her. "Is it good?" Was she good, she meant. She wanted to please him, to make him crazy with longing for her. He was betrothed, but she wanted him to remember her and desire her, even after he left the Crag.

She surged forward again, kissing him more fiercely as she felt his nails dig into her buttocks. She grinned against him, nipping at his lower lip."I never thought you would notice me." She whispered, her breath harsh in her lungs.