FIC: The Young Wolf's Journey, Chapter 16: A Long Road Home (May 2023) (Patreon)

Robb smiled up at his wife, enjoying the sway of her breasts as her body slowly rocked back and forth on him. He had been distracted for the past two days, unsure of how he was supposed to feel about what Lord Howland Reed had told him, what he was meant to do with the knowledge, or whether he should share it with anyone. His duties as king kept him busy, but there was only so much distraction that could be offered by listening to the grievances of the smallfolk, meeting with his small council or giving his opinions on the minutiae of his upcoming coronation.

Being in bed with his queen was allowing him to put his uncertain future and the decision he had to make out of his head at last. He was able to relax in his bed, take his mind off of everything and just feel. His hands rested loosely on his wife’s hips, allowing her to ride him at whatever speed she chose to. He had no issue with letting Margaery take the lead, and she did as marvelous a job of it as she always did. She was in the mood to take it slow tonight, and Robb certainly had no issue with that. While her bouncing away and riding him hard was always fun, and he took great pleasure in fucking her, this slow rocking gave him ample opportunity to admire his wife’s lovely body as she moved her hips back and forth and rode his cock. There was so much to admire, so the opportunity to stare up and drink her in was always appreciated. No matter how many times he’d shared his bed with her, and how often they’d welcomed others into their bed, he would never tire of seeing Margery naked and feeling how tightly her cunt squeezed his cock, like they were made to fit together.

Her belly was still flat, not even showing a hint of the babe that grew inside of her. But Robb was not dreading the idea of his wife’s belly swelling. On the contrary, he was looking forward to it. He couldn’t wait to see her belly grow large; he couldn’t wait for her to birth their first of hopefully many sons and daughters. He couldn’t wait to be a father. That her breasts were likely to grow during her pregnancy was another change to look forward to. Watching her breasts move along with her as she slowly rocked on him made him imagine what she might look like later into her pregnancy, when her body was rounder and her breasts were bigger. She’d expressed her worries about how her body would change during pregnancy, but Robb was looking forward to the changes eagerly.

For now, there was plenty to enjoy about having the chance to be with his wife. This night, Margaery was helping him in ways that she couldn’t understand. He had a feeling she’d noticed something had been on his mind for the last couple of days, but he hadn’t told her anything and she hadn’t asked. Whether she knew it or not, being on his back in the middle of their bed and staring up at his beautiful wife as she made herself at home on his cock was exactly the sort of relief he’d been in need of. He was extraordinarily lucky to have Margaery as his wife, and not just because her family’s support had made the difference in allowing him to defeat the Lannisters, protect the north and win the war.

She smiled down at him, and Robb smiled back, ran his hands up her body and rubbed her breasts. Those breasts would eventually feel even larger in his hands, but they felt flawless here and now too. Whatever his future was going to look like, he felt like he could face it so long as he had her there to share it with him. Her mouth hung open in a moan as her ride finally brought her to climax, and Robb joined her. He groped his wife’s breasts and grunted as his seed rushed to fill her, releasing the tension and embracing the pleasure that his wife and queen had brought him. It was the best moment he’d had in the last two days, and in that moment, he forgot about everything else in his life.

That relief was only temporary, of course. No moment could last forever, and sometime between Margaery slowly pulling off of his cock and settling in beside him in their bed to snuggle against him, the simple empty-headed pleasure she’d brought to him faded and his worries returned. What was he meant to do about Jon, about the north, about the Night’s Watch and the Seven Kingdoms? He had not been able to run far from those thoughts in the last two days, and they rushed back into his head as he caught his breath and his body came down from the excitement of making love with his wife.

“Robb,” Margaery began, her voice soft. “Your face has been getting tight like that often in the last couple of days. And I do not believe that the coronation, the ironborn or the rumors about Daenerys Targaryen across the Narrow Sea are responsible.” Her fingertips danced along his sweaty chest. “I won’t demand that you share whatever it is that is on your mind. But I hope you know that you can always come to me with anything. I am your wife, your queen. If I can help you, or ease your burden as king in any way, I will always be glad to do so.”

Robb silently considered what she was saying. He had been unsure of what to do with the information Howland Reed had come to him with, but he knew that the moment he told anyone of what he’d learned, everything changed. As of now, only he and Howland knew the truth, as far as they were aware. Robb had resolved to sit on this secret and keep it to himself until he had made some decision on what he might do about it.

But perhaps he shouldn’t take it all upon himself. The fact that Jon Snow was not Ned Stark’s bastard son but instead the sole surviving son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark affected Robb and Jon, of course, but it affected Margaery too. She was Robb’s wife and queen, and her fate was tied to his. Telling anyone else before he potentially told Jon felt wrong but keeping this secret from Margaery felt wrong too. Besides, who else could he tell but her? He did not fully trust the court, and there was a certain guardedness that he felt even towards the members of his small council. But if he could not fully trust even Margaery, he was going to live a very lonely life in King’s Landing.

He took Margaery’s wrist in his hand and sat up, pulling her up with him. She looked at him seriously, obviously catching on that he was about to start talking, and knowing it was going to be a serious discussion. He was going to tell her everything.

--

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lord Howland Reed said quietly. “His mother named him Aemon, but of course he could never be called that once your father took him into his arms. From the time that baby was taken out of the Tower of Joy, he was Jon Snow.”

Robb’s head was swimming. He knew that everything had just changed, at least where Jon was concerned. There were too many complicated feelings tangled there for him to work through, twisted though they were. That was going to take time to figure out, but he couldn’t think of his personal life and his relationship with the man he’d grown up thinking of as his half-brother right now. That could come later. For now, he must think as the king.

“That is quite a story,” Robb said. He did not call it into question. There was no reason for him to lie about it that Robb could see, but even if there had been some potential motive he could see, he knew in his bones that the Lord of Greywater Watch was telling the truth. “But what am I to do with this, Lord Reed? Would you have me relinquish my throne?” Even if Robb had been of a mind to do that, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. The Tyrells would never support such a decision.

“Only you can decide which path to take,” Howland Reed said. “But it was not thoughts of the Iron Throne that compelled Prince Rhaegar to approach your Aunt Lyanna. And when my son Jojen saw Jon in his green dreams, he did not see him in King’s Landing. Rhaegar believed in prophesy and my son saw that prophecy being fulfilled. Whether or not Jon is the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms is not material. I wouldn’t have come here and told you this if it was about the throne. It’s about him being the Prince That Was Promised to lead the armies of the living against the dead.”

--

Margaery was quiet for a very long time, and Robb wondered what it was she was thinking. Did she believe him? What was she going to say?

“You believe that Lord Howland was being truthful,” she said, in a statement rather than a question.

“I do,” Robb said, nodding. “Unlikely as it may sound, I’m convinced it was all true. Whether there is anything to the prophesy or not, who knows? I’ve never believed in such things. But I believe that Prince Rhaegar and my Aunt Lyanna believed in it, and I believe that Jojen saw Jon leading the living against the dead in his dreams.” Margaery looked at him seriously for several seconds before giving a slow nod. “Do you believe it?”

“I do,” she said, surprising him with how certain she sounded. It wasn’t so much the idea of her accepting that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna that surprised him, but how quickly she’d seemingly accepted the bit about the living versus the dead. “I will admit that it sounds like something out of the stories our old septa used to tell us when I was a young girl in Highgarden, before my grandmother told her to stop filling my head with such foolishness.” She reached out rubbed Robb’s arm. “But if I believed you when you told me about the shadow killing Renly, I can believe this too.” She smiled slightly. “Thank you for telling me.”

Robb found it easy to smile back. “Thank you for listening.” He already felt better after trusting Margaery with this instead of trying to keep it all solely on his own shoulders.

Her smile faded as quickly as it had formed, and she looked slightly nervous now. “I hope you aren’t thinking of trying to abdicate the throne or acknowledge him as the rightful king,” she said timidly.

Robb shook his head. “I’m not,” he said. “Even if I believed that it was the right course of action, expecting the whole realm, or your family, to accept it and go along with it would make me a fool.” Her face relaxed, and he brought his hand up to cup her jaw. “But putting whether people would accept his potential claim aside, I know the kind of man Jon is. He gave up whatever claim might have still been there when he joined the Night’s Watch. Men of the Night’s Watch swear to take no wives, father no children and hold no land. I know Jon, and I know he would never forsake a vow once he made it. Even if I tried to hand the throne to him, he would refuse to take it.”

Margaery smiled and nuzzled her face into his hand. “I don’t know Jon, but he sounds like a good man. And I’m glad that learning the truth about his parentage hasn’t caused you to doubt your decisions. I’m relieved you see the situation for what it is.”

“I do,” Robb said, nodding. “Like Lord Howland said, I don’t think Jon’s destiny is here in King’s Landing.” He frowned, looking down for a moment as he remembered not just Howland Reed’s words, but the dream he’d had of Jon being shot in the leg with an arrow. “I don’t want to believe that there’s really going to be some war between the living and the dead. But even if Rhaegar Targaryen and Jojen Reed were both wrong about that, it sounds as if the Night’s Watch has enough to deal with.”

He hoped that the force of Northmen he’d sent to the Wall to help the Night’s Watch defend against the wildlings would be enough to hold out. It hadn’t been a massive force; there had been other castles and forts to defend, and he’d still had Stannis to deal with. But it suddenly felt to him as if his eyes had been in the wrong place all along. Yet again, he heard Melisandre’s voice in his head.

Your place is north.

“I assume you’ve told no one other than me about Jon’s true parentage,” Margaery said. Robb nodded. “And who has Lord Howland told?”

“No one,” Robb said. “Jojen saw Jon in his green dreams, but Howland hasn’t told even him the secret of his birth. So far as we know, Howland, I and now you are the only three living who know the truth.”

“Good,” Margaery said, nodding. “I think we should keep it that way. The truth is dangerous.”

Robb frowned. “I think Jon deserves to know the truth,” he said. “I trust him. He would not harm me or mine.”

Margaery nodded quickly. Understanding how he’d taken her words, she leaned closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “I believe you,” she said softly. “I don’t know him, but if you trust him, that’s good enough for me. He won’t harm us, and we won’t harm him.” Robb nodded, relaxing slightly. “But it’s not him I’m worried about. Should others learn of this—others who might seek to undermine our rule—they might well use Jon’s name to weaken our claim, whether he approved of it or not. Conversely, there’s always the possibility that someone else might consider Jon a threat to our rule and attempt to eliminate him, even if we implore them to leave him alone. This is a dangerous truth, for all of us.”

“I see,” Robb said quietly, thinking about Margaery’s grandmother, the Queen of Thorns. Even if Margaery insisted that Jon be left alone, would Lady Olenna respect her wishes if she herself considered Jon a threat to the interests of House Tyrell? “So, we tell no one, then? Not even Jon, or your family?”

“Certainly not my family,” Margaery answered. “And yes, I don’t think you should even tell Jon. Not yet at least. He does deserve to know the truth about who his mother and father were, but I believe you should not tell him yet. Wait until our hold on the throne is secure and our reign is strong enough for us not to need to worry about usurpers trying to use it against us before you tell Jon.”

Robb thought about it for a bit before eventually nodding. “I can see the wisdom in that,” he said. “I can’t say I like the idea of hiding the truth from him. But there are compelling reasons for me to do so, just as my father had good reason not to tell him the truth for all those years. I’ll tell him the truth eventually. But for now, I’ll hold my tongue. And I’ll ask that you do the same.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, smiling. “I will tell no one; you have my word.” She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you for trusting me with this, husband.”

“If I can’t trust even you, I’m not going to sit on that uncomfortable throne for very long at all,” he said. He put his arms around Margaery and gave her a quick kiss of his own. “It’s you and me, my queen. If we stick together, we can handle whatever threats come our way. Living or dead.” His hands slid down her back, and he gave her bare arse a firm squeeze. Margaery giggled and allowed him to roll her onto her back and climb on top of her.

--

Robb did not often walk through the Street of Silk, but he’d still done so often enough to be used to some of the ladies who worked in the brothels calling out to him and trying to get his attention. That was nothing new.

What was unusual this time was how this particular woman tried to call out to him. It was always Your Grace, My King, King Robb, or something of that sort. But this woman did not use any of those titles. She just shouted his name.

“Robb! Robb! Robb!”

He was not used to having people address him so informally. That was something that rarely ever happened now that he was king, unless it was someone he was very close with. Finding it strange, he moved towards the shout, Ser Loras moving people aside in front of him so he could cross the street and find out who was calling to him.

“Robb!” the same voice shouted again. “Robb, it’s me!”

He found himself face to face with a girl who looked to be close to his age. She had dark hair and a pretty face, but her eyes looked sad and haunted. Robb frowned and stared at her in concentration. She looked familiar to him…but who was she?

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, and the nervous gesture took him back to Winterfell. He’d seen that same gesture several years ago, after Sansa’s friend accidentally dropped her lemon cake into his lap. Robb’s eyes widened as he finally put a name to the face.

“Jeyne?” he whispered. “Jeyne Poole? Is it really you?” It had been so long since he’d seen her; it felt like a lifetime ago. She’d left Winterfell with his sisters and father, and as far as he knew, only Sansa and Arya were still alive from that group. It was a pleasant surprise to discover another survivor from his father’s company, but the look in Jeyne’s sad eyes left no doubt that she had suffered a great deal.

She nodded, hugged her body protectively, and began to sob. Without thinking, Robb strode towards her and pulled her into his arms. Her arms went around his body, holding onto his back desperately as she sobbed into his chest. Robb stood there and held her quivering body in his arms, ignoring the muttering of everyone watching the king hugging some brothel worker in the middle of the street. He didn’t know exactly what had happened to Jeyne, but she clearly needed comfort.

The sobs eventually died down, and she loosened her grip on him. Robb took Jeyne’s hand and led her inside of the brothel she’d been standing in front of, claiming the nearest empty room so he could talk with her and learn what she had been through. It took some time, but she calmed enough to tell him about how she and Sansa had been confined together in the same room after the Lannisters had killed Robb’s father and household. They’d slept in the same bed and held each other for comfort, until Lord Baelish took her away and put her to work in one of his brothels.

Robb’s blood boiled as he listened to her, though he took care not to show his anger outwardly, not wanting to frighten the obviously traumatized girl. He fully supported brothels, so long as the girls working in them did so of their own choosing, as Chataya and Alayaya did. But taking a frightened young woman whose father had just been killed and throwing her into brothel work was monstrous. Robb’s desire to hold Petyr Baelish accountable for his many disgusting acts continued to grow. But he couldn’t deal with that right now. Petyr Baelish was not within his reach at the moment, but he could do something for Jeyne.

“You’re safe now, Jeyne,” he said gently. “You’re leaving here with me. I’ll give you a room in the Red Keep, and you can stay for as long as you like. If you’d like to stay here, you’re welcome to. Or I can arrange to have you go back to Winterfell. At least some of my family is coming here for my coronation; maybe you could return with them, if you want.”

“Really?” she whispered. “I can…leave? It’s over?”

Robb nodded. “It’s over, Jeyne. You’re safe now.”

And some day, I’ll have Petyr Baelish’s head.

--

“Casterly Rock will be happy to help the crown pay for the coming coronation,” Tyrion said, nodding his head. “It’s the very least we could do, I would say.”

“Especially considering it was your family who bled the realm dry in the first place,” Theon japed.

“I think you’ll find that it was Robert Baratheon who drained the royal coffers,” Tyrion replied smoothly. “I will not, however, pretend that House Lannister was not responsible for its share of the suffering the realm has endured since King Robert’s death.”

“Or more than its share, one might say,” Theon responded.

“Enough,” Robb said, holding up his hand. “I appreciate that, Tyrion, just as I appreciate you absolving the crown of the debts King Robert owed to Casterly Rock.”

The Imp smiled. “And just as I appreciate you helping me claim my birthright as Lord of Casterly Rock,” he said. “This coronation is important for all of us. If Casterly Rock has to use some of its gold to make it the event that it ought to be, I consider that an investment in our future.”

“Will all of your family be coming south for the coronation, Your Grace?” Willas asked.

“I’m uncertain,” Robb said. “My mother has said she will be here. The others, I don’t know. The travel would be difficult on Bran, and Sansa and Arya may be reluctant to return to King’s Landing after what they experienced here previously.” His heart ached, thinking of his sisters seeing their father’s execution. They’d both survived; they’d both endured. Sansa had endured captivity in King’s Landing, and Arya had survived through trials Robb had only heard the slightest details of. He would love to see his sisters again, but if they did not feel comfortable returning to the capital, he wouldn’t blame them or hold it against them.

“And what of Dorne?” Tyrion asked. “Have we heard from them?”

“Only that the Martells will be represented, and will swear their fealty to King Robb,” Willas said. “Whether Prince Doran will make the trip or send another in his stead was not made clear.”

“I shall look forward to meeting with the Martells, whoever they send,” Robb said. Dorne remained a question mark, and knowing what his plans were once the coronation had been seen to, he hoped to have some idea of what Prince Doran was thinking.

“It will be good to have Dorne fall in line,” Theon said. “Once that’s settled, we can focus on what’s left of the ironborn.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “And the dragon queen across the Narrow Sea,” he added sarcastically, showing what he thought of those stories.

Robb did not join in the humor. “Actually, I intend to depart from King’s Landing after the coronation is over and our guests have started returning home,” he said. The rest of the table went quiet, and only Willas and Loras looked unsurprised. Margaery and her brothers knew what Robb was planning, but this was the first time he would speak of it to anyone else.

“Where will you be going, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“North,” he answered. “The Night’s Watch has written to the various would-be kings across the realm, calling for aid against Mance Rayder and the wildlings. The other kings are dead now, and it’s up to me to answer that call and come to the aid of the brotherhood that has guarded the realms of men for thousands of years. Once the coronation is finished, the crown will send a force north to defend the Wall—and I will personally lead that force.”

Your place is north.