Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9835427.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV), A_Song_of_Ice_and_Fire_&_Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Jon_Snow/Robb_Stark
  Character:
      Robb_Stark, Jon_Snow, Catelyn_Tully_Stark, Talisa_Maegyr, Walder_Frey
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Half-Sibling_Incest, Series
      Spoilers
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Young_Wolf's_Prince
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-20 Words: 5713
****** A Series of Firsts (and a Single Second) ******
by MyLifeUnedited
Summary
     The firsts were what made Robb the man he was. The second was what
     made Jon the man he became.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
First Attraction
Robb had always been the bigger of the two; often said to be the better of the
two, though he doesn’t know how much truth there is to that. He had never felt
better than Jon, just…different.
In name, of course, Robb is a Stark, the heir to his father’s entire fortune
and to Winterfell. He was destined to lead men through harsh winters and land
troubles, to lead men if it came to war. He was taught to be a politician, a
warrior, a thinker, an economist, a speaker, and a listener. He was taught that
he not only will provide for his family and the family yet to come – a wife,
children, an heir of his own – but also to provide for the people under his
rule.
Jon Snow was the Bastard of Winterfell, a mistake that Ned Stark was too
honorable to leave behind in a whorehouse somewhere, because Ned Stark always
did what was right, even if it was only right for the young boy and not for
Ned’s true family. Jon Snow grew up learning basic education – never to the
extent of the Stark children – grew up learning sword play – never as good as
Robb or even Theon – grew up learning how to tend and ride horses – but never
allowed any extra time with the siblings he longed to call his own.
Robb, for a deceptive few years, believed what his mother said; Jon was
different, Jon wasn’t a Stark, Jon didn’t deserve the kind of hospitality given
to him. The Starks had done him a favor, and Jon was lucky to have what he got.
It wasn’t until Robb was around eleven that he realized the toil that such a
childhood took on Jon Snow. After a particularly rough week of training with
Ser Roderick and battling a worsening cold, Jon had disappeared for a few days,
seemingly holed up in his room, sweating through a sickness. When Robb asked if
Maester Luwin had assessed him, Catelyn had told Robb that of course he had
seen Jon and had prescribed sleep and rest, he’d be better soon enough. But
after two days of no one but Theon to spend time with, Robb had grown bored and
restless, deciding he’d rather catch Jon’s sickness than stay in the constant
cycle of boredom.
When he’d knocked on Jon’s door, there hadn’t been an answer, so Robb had
pushed inside. What he found was not a boy who just needed rest, but a small,
pale boy, crying through rasping breaths, each gasp of air obviously causing
him deep pain. Robb rushed forward, climbing onto Jon’s bed and cradling him to
his chest, much like he’d seen Catelyn do to Sansa and Arya when they were
sick. Jon had blinked up at him, eyes rimmed in red and lips chapped horribly.
His nose had started to bleed, and Robb used his own sleeve as a rag while he
called for Maester Luwin.
His mother had lied; Jon hadn’t seen Maester Luwin and Jon wouldn’t have been
fine in a couple of days. Had Robb not gone into Jon’s room in time, it was
likely he would have begun bleeding more heavily and from all orifices until he
died.
Robb had stood at the end of the bed while Maester Luwin had tended to Jon,
Catelyn standing behind him while Luwin explained to her what was wrong. Robb
looked at his mother for a long time and realized that she had lied to him. She
would have willingly let Jon die. What else had she lied about?
Jon was weak for the next few weeks, but able to eat and drink. Robb helped him
walk around his room, Jon being too tired to stand up by himself, and he’d
talked to Jon about everything he could think of.
It was here that he learned this wasn’t the first time Jon had been sick and
not received treatment, nor did he even seem to think this was wrong. Robb had
been horrified to realize that Jon had become so accustomed to being neglected
that he assumed his death was something he deserved.
Robb had never forgiven Catelyn for that.
As the next few years went on, Robb made sure to invite Jon to sword practice
with him, to come to his lessons, to go for walks with him and Theon, and had
simply tried to involve him in everyday activities. Jon was quiet, somber, but
always seemed to brighten when Robb asked him to play. Despite Catelyn’s upset
over the situation, she had never spoken against Robb’s time with Jon.
Maybe she would have, if she’d known where it would lead.
Robb had turned thirteen, Jon was still just twelve, and Robb had been
searching for Jon for almost half an hour. The boy had disappeared just after
breakfast, and no one had seen him leave or could tell Robb where he’d gone.
He finally found him in the godswood, kneeling before the weirwood tree, his
eyes closed and head bowed. He was praying.
Robb had stopped before he could call out; instead, he was curious to see what
Jon did out in the woods alone. He’d never known Jon came to pray, or even that
Jon believed in the gods.
After a solid ten minutes of watching his brother, Robb had grown bored and
silently walked up behind his brother, playfully pouncing on him and wrestling
him into submission. Jon laughed, his face grinning up at Robb, and that’s when
Robb had felt the first stirrings of attraction. He hadn’t known then, of
course, what it meant that his stomach had swooped and his fingers had itched
to touch Jon’s lips, just that it was a new, yet not unwelcome, feeling.
 
First Kiss
Robb has thought about it for a long time. Since that time in the godswood,
he’d thought about what it would feel like to kiss Jon, to touch him in a way
that was more than brotherly, to find out what it was that really caused Jon to
open up, to speak freely, to be himself instead of the quiet boy who tried not
to get in anyone’s way.
It happened on Jon’s fourteenth name day, an occasion that was noticeably
unremarked upon by Catelyn and the staff, but which Robb remembered and gifted
him for.
Jon had stared at the package Robb handed him in bewilderment. At first, Robb
had thought Jon hadn’t wanted it. After a moment of silence, it dawned on Robb
that no one had ever given Jon a gift before.
“Well, open it!” Robb urged him. Jon had blinked at him, a blush rising to his
cheeks, and he’d opened the package to find a wood carving of a direwolf’s
head, greatly detailed and striking. Jon had grinned at it before flashing a
shy smile at Robb.
“Thank you,” he’d whispered, his finger tracing the lines of the direwolf’s
face reverently. Robb had been so proud of the gift, but was also heartbroken
to think that Jon had never received a present for his name day – had never
thought to want such a thing because he was a Snow and not a Stark.
“Come on, I stole some strawberries from the kitchen. We can eat them in the
tower.” Robb said. Jon nodded eagerly, carefully setting the direwolf head back
down before following his brother out of his bedroom and across Winterfell’s
courtyard. They raced up the steps where Robb had laid out a blanket and a bowl
of the sweet fruit. There had been an uneven amount, and Robb had told Jon to
take the last one since it was his name day.
“Thank you,” Jon said again. Robb pushed playfully at his shoulder with a
smirk.
“Whatever,”
“No, Robb, truly.” Jon had looked at him with wide, earnest eyes. “I mean it;
you didn’t have to do any of this.”
“Of course I did! It’s your name day!”
Jon smiled so sweetly at him, his lips stained deep red from the strawberries.
Robb had felt the urge so deeply to kiss his brother then, to finally cross
that distance, but he’d held back.
As they were walking down the stairs, back to the courtyard, Robb didn’t known
what came over him, but suddenly he reached forward and grabbed Jon’s arm,
spinning him around and pushing him against the wall of the stairwell.
“Robb, what-“
Robb leaned forward to kiss him, a soft press of lips and the taste of
strawberries. He’d leaned back after a moment to look at Jon’s shocked face.
Robb was mortified. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have kissed him,
he shouldn’t have-
“Why…why did you do that?” Jon asked him quietly.
“I – I wanted to.” Robb told him, hoping that his honesty would be enough.
Jon’s eyes flickered to his lips then, his tongue poking out to lick at his
own.
“Could you…do it again?”
Robb smiled then and leaned forward to capture Jon’s bottom lips between his
own. Jon gasped sharply, his lips moving against Robb’s after another moment of
hesitation. Robb’s hands found their way to his brother’s hips, squeezing
gently. Jon wraps his own arms around Robb’s neck, one hand curling into his
hair, slender fingers scratching lightly at Robb’s scalp.
It was everything Robb had dreamt it would be, and more.
 
First Fight
“Fuck you!” Jon shouts, slamming his sword to the ground in anger, the metal
clanging loudly on the solid floor.
“Jon-“
“No, don’t you say another gods’ damned word.” Jon spat at him, not allowing
Robb to speak. At fifteen, Jon was still slender and fair-skinned, whereas Robb
had begun to fill out in the shoulders, his jaw becoming sharp and well-
defined.
“I don’t understand why you’re upset.” Robb said, following Jon through the
storage room and into the back courtyard, away from prying eyes. Jon stopped
and threw him an incredulous look over his shoulder.
“You don’t know why I’m upset?” Jon demanded, turning fully around and shoving
at Robb’s shoulders. “Well, why don’t I explain it to you.” He spat the words
in disgust. “I am notyour toy, around only for your and Greyjoy’s amusement. I
may be a bastard, but you have no right to speak of me as if I’m some servant
you can order to do whatever you want, or like one of Theon’s pretty whores.
I’m not yours to fucking give away or play for. I’m not a prize, I’m a fucking
person.”
Jon shoved him again – hard – causing Robb to stumble backwards into the
exterior of the storage room. He then turned and stormed off to the godswood,
away from Robb and Winterfell.
Robb scrubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, watching his brother
disappear into the trees. Truly, Robb hadn’t meant any of it. It had been a
joke made amongst two dueling young men, not meant to cause offense or outrage.
“If I win,” Theon had said, sword glinting in the pale sunlight, smug grin on
his dirty face. “I get to use Jon as my personal servant for a week.”
“And if I win?” Robb had asked with a bark of laughter, knowing Theon didn’t
stand a chance; Robb was obviously the better fighter of the two.
 
“You get to keep your precious bastard toy, don’t you?” Theon had lunged and
Robb parried with excitement. He hadn’t even seen Jon standing in the doorway
to the barns, watching the whole exchange. It wasn’t until after Robb had
swiped Theon’s legs out from under him and was holding a practice sword to the
ward’s throat that Robb had looked over in glee to see his brother’s furious
face staring at him in disbelief.
Robb sighed, knowing what Theon and he had said and done wasn’t at all
respectable, but it wasn’t as if they’d meant it. It was two boys in the heat
of rivalry, not meant to be taken seriously.
Robb slowly followed after Jon, hoping to apologize and explain this to him,
when he’d stopped at the sight of Jon crying, his back against the weirwood
tree, his knees hugged tightly to his chest. His head was tucked to his chest,
hidden behind his dark curls.
“Jon,” he said quietly, approaching slowly and sitting down a little bit away
from his brother. “Jon, I’m sorry.”
Jon shook his head, not looking at Robb, and simply hugged his knees even
tighter, making himself as small as possible. Robb, feeling helpless, finally
crawled over to him and wrapped him in his broad arms, trying to say sorry
through his touch. Jon resisted for a minute, before practically falling into
his brother and crying into his tunic.
“I’m a person.” He whispered into his brother’s chest. Robb hugged him tighter.
“I know you are.” Robb responded softly, kissing the top of his brother’s head.
“I’m so sorry, Jon.”
 
First Heartbreak
Robb and Jon were getting their horses ready to go with father to a beheading
of a Night’s Watch deserter when Catelyn Stark appeared in the barn, looking
pale and tense.
“Jon,” she said coldly, causing Robb to still and Jon to turn quickly to bow
his head to her. Robb hated how Jon cowered before Catelyn Stark, but he hated
his mother more for making Jon feel like he had no choice.
“I’d like for you to stay behind.” Catelyn said sternly. “I need to speak with
you about something.”
“Yes, m’Lady.” Jon bowed his head again and Catelyn turned on her heel and
marched away. Robb and Jon shared a look. Robb sighed, straightening the saddle
on his horse.
“Don’t worry,” Robb said. “I’ll tell father. Go,” he tilted his head and Jon
nodded, pulling the riding gloves off his hands and tossing them onto the bench
beside him, following after Lady Stark.
Robb didn’t seen Jon before he and his father had left, and they returned hours
later, when the sun was beginning to set. He’d been in good spirits, having
heard many joking stories about his father and the guardsmen from years past,
and he was smiling when he entered the dining hall where the rest of his family
was waiting. The rest, except Jon.
“Where is Jon?” Robb asked, sitting down next to Sansa and across from his
mother.
“Jon won’t be joining us this evening.” Was all Catelyn would say on the
matter, despite Robb questioning her a few times more. They’d eaten their
dinner in relative silence, filled only with Bran and Arya’s idle chatter, and
when dinner was over Robb went searching for his brother. He didn’t find him in
his bedroom or down in the practice room, so he went to the tower. He found Jon
looking out the west-facing window, watching the last of the sun going down.
“Hey,” Robb said, sliding into the spot next to his brother.
“Hi.” Jon said, not looking at him. Robb frowned, moving to wipe a curl of
Jon’s hair out of his eyes when Jon practically flinched, pulling his head
away.
“What?” Robb asked, frowning deeper at his brother. Jon sighed, still not
looking at him.
“Your Lady Mother has asked that I begin to distance myself from you. She says
it’s beginning to look bad that the Heir to Winterfell continues to bring his
bastard brother everywhere.”
“She said that?” Robb demanded, eyes instantly darkening in anger.
“She’s right, Robb.” Jon sighed again. “As the future Lord of Winterfell, you
have a duty to the people. You need to start befriending other lords of houses,
begin meeting people of your stature.”
“My stature? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Jon, you’re my brother.”
“I’m not, though, am I?” Jon demanded, finally showing some anger of his own.
“I’m not, not in the eyes of anyone who matters, and therefore you need to
spend time with people that can acceptably follow you into the public eye of
Winterfell.”
“I don’t care about what it looks like!”
“You should, though Robb, you really should, because as Lord of Winterfell the
only thing that will truly matter is how it looks.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be the Lord of Winterfell.”
“Don’t say that.” Jon snapped, glaring at him. “You’re going to be Lord of
Winterfell and you’re going to rule these lands; you’re going to be great, just
like our father – better than our father!”
“Jon-“
“We need to end this. Now, Robb, because it’s going to destroy you.” Jon pushed
away from the wall and left without another word. Robb watched him go.
 
First Time
For three weeks, they stayed away from one another. It was unbearable; they had
never spent so long apart since they were children, and especially not since
they’d started whatever it was they were doing with one another.
Robb lay awake at night, thinking about Jon sleeping all alone on his side of
Winterfell, and found himself hard in his small cloth. When he touched himself,
he thought only of his brother’s soft curls and sweet smile, thought only of
Jon’s beautiful, pink lips, and thought only of Jon’s slender fingers and wrist
touching him.
He came with his brother’s name on his lips and found it wasn’t enough.
Like always, Robb found Jon in the godswood, kneeling before the large weirwood
tree. It was where Jon had always gone when he was upset or lonely – and
without Robb at his side, Jon had no one else.
Robb walked slowly towards his brother and sat just to the side. Jon stiffened
before slowly turning to look at his brother. His eyes looked so sad then,
desperate for anything, and Robb kissed him without hesitation. Jon returned
the kiss, even though it had been his own idea to stop what they were doing.
Robb gently pushed Jon to lay on his back and climbed atop him, continuing his
exploration with his lips down Jon’s jaw and neck. He bit carefully on Jon’s
collarbone, causing his brother’s hips to jerk forward into Robb’s. His brother
was hard in his breeches, and Robb felt the throbbing of his own cock.
Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Robb begins to unlace Jon’s pants. Jon’s
cheeks darken and he turns his head. Robb glared at him, grabbing his brother’s
chin and forcing Jon to maintain eye contact while Robb pulled him out of his
pants.
“Robb,” Jon breathed and Robb swiped his thumb over the head of Jon’s cock. It
felt strange to hold a cock that was not his own, but the way Jon arched into
Robb’s hand, Robb had never been so aroused in his lifetime.
“Is this okay?” Robb asked, using the slick dripping from his brother’s cock to
lessen the friction as Robb slid his hand down Jon’s cock before coming back
up. Jon squeezed his eyes shut and nodded jerkily, a harsh and stuttering
breath escaping his clenched jaw.
“I want to try something.” Robb told him, and Jon blinked his eyes back open to
stare at his brother. He released his brother’s cock and yanked Jon’s pants all
the way off him before spitting into his one hand and at the same time, re-
grasping Jon’s cock and using his saliva to breech the tight heat of his
brother’s body.
Jon shouted, startled, but the yell broke off into a low moan. Robb had heard
stories of men doing this to one another, but he’d never found the stories
anything but strange. Why would another man willingly allow another to touch
his ass in such a way?Robb had thought. Now, watching Jon swallow harshly and
continue to buck into Robb’s touch, he understood more about the pleasure of
not only closeness, but of overstimulation. Robb crooked his finger slightly
and Jon bit his bottom lip to keep from making a sound. After a moment, when he
felt Jon start to loosen just slightly, he added a second finger, his other
hand stroking up the full length of Jon’s cock. In his own pants, Robb was
throbbing harshly at the sight of his brother flushed and on display.
“Robb,” Jon whispered. “Please.”
“Tell me if I hurt you.” Robb said and Jon nodded, his jaw clenching at his
hole quivering under Robb’s touch. When he was fairly certain Jon was loose
enough, Robb carefully retracted his fingers and let go of Jon’s cock. Jon
stared at him, pupils blown wide and pretty mouth in a circle. Robb untied his
own pants and pulled them off. He spat into his hand once more, stroked
himself, and looked at Jon.
“Tell me to stop.” Robb murmured.
“Don’t stop,” Jon replied. Robb nodded and lined himself up before pushing into
his brother. Jon cut off his moan by biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Robb leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the iron and desire like a fresh
wine.
 
First Love
Robb was sixteen and in love with his brother.
He’d known for a very long time, likely since before they had even started this
whole thing. Now, they spent the nights in each other’s beds, creeping back to
the confines of their own rooms before first light so as not to be caught.
It was one of those nights, when Jon was curled into Robb’s side, furs piled
atop them, as Robb strokes his fingers through his brother’s curls. Across the
room and through the light of the dying fire, Robb can see the two wolf pups
they’d brought home snuggled on the hearth, white and dark fur mushed together
in a similar way to Jon and Robb. Robb smiled at the thought; their wolves
truly were meant for them.
Jon stirred slightly, his chin turning up to face Robb, his eyes still closed.
“Go to sleep.” Jon said quietly, half asleep.
“I will.” Robb replied, still carding his fingers through his brother’s hair.
“Mm,” Jon hummed, shifting and wrapping an arm around his brother’s waist.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.” Robb replied instantly, honestly.
“And why are you thinking about me instead of sleeping?”
“I’m always thinking about you, Jon. Even when I’m sleeping.” Robb remarked. He
looked down at his brother whose cheeks went pink at the statement.
“You shouldn’t say such things.” Jon murmured.
“It’s only the truth.”
“And what is it that you’re thinking about me?” Jon asked.
“That I love you.”
Jon opened his eyes instantly, staring at his brother. Robb held his gaze, blue
eyes sparkling with clarity.
“Robb-“
“Do you love me, Jon?”
“Of course I love you.” Jon replied. “But…”
“But, what?” Robb asked, continuing once again to pet his hair.
“Gods, Robb, this has gotten so out of hand.”
“A bit late now, don’t you think?”
“I think that soon you’ll be expected to start looking for a wife and-“
“And what if I don’t want a wife?” Robb asked. Jon pulled away from him and sat
upright, looking down at his brother, unimpressed.
“It does no one any good to pretend like we can continue on as we always have,
Robb.” Jon told him. His voice barely ranged above a whisper, and when Robb got
a good look at his face, he saw tears welling in his brother’s eyes.
“Jon,” he said softly, sitting up and hugging his brother to his chest. He
couldn’t find any other words to say, because they both knew Jon was right. One
day, their lives would lead them down different roads, different battles, and
they would have to give up the fantasy of being together in this life.
“I love you.” Robb told him finally. It was the only thing that truly mattered.
“I know.” Jon replied, staring at the embers glowing in the fireplace. Robb
held him for a long time and stayed awake long after Jon had fallen into a deep
sleep. When the morning light dawned, he kissed his brother’s forehead and
crept back to his bedroom with a sinking feeling in his chest, warning him that
things were slipping away too quickly for him to catch them all.
 
First Goodbye
“I don’t understand.” Robb said quietly when he found Jon sitting in the tower;
their tower.
“I know you don’t.” Jon said, just as quietly, not looking at his brother but
out at the great wilderness beyond Winterfell’s walls. “But one day I hope you
will.”
“I will neverunderstand this, Jon!” Robb snapped, grabbing his shoulder roughly
and spinning him around to face one another. Robb’s gaze was angry and sad all
at once, and Jon felt the knot that had been building in his stomach begin to
ache.
“It’s what’s best for us both, Robb.”
“No, it isn’t.” Robb said, stubborn as ever. Gods, but Jon loved him.
“Yes, Robb, it is, and you know it.” Jon said sadly, bringing his hands up to
hold his brother’s face. “Our Lord Father will leave for King’s Landing and you
will be in charge. But I cannot stay here, you know that. It is time for me to
leave.”
“Do you want me to beg? To get on my knees and plead with you to stay?” Robb
asked, desperation creeping into hysteria.
“No,” Jon shook his head. “It would do us no good. I am leaving for the Wall. I
have to.”
“You don’t-“
“I do.” Jon brought their lips together tenderly. “So please, don’t speak of
it. Not tonight, not when we have so little time left.”
“Jon,” a tear fell from his cheek to Jon’s hand. “Please.”
Jon hushed him, kissing him again. “I want to make tonight count.”
But of course, the night must eventually end and bring with it morning light.
It was the first sunrise Jon ever saw while still in Robb’s bed. Neither had
been willing to separate when they usually would have – not when they had so
little time.
Robb traced idle patterns into Jon’s stomach, Jon’s back to his chest while
seated between Robb’s legs. He placed gentle kisses along Jon’s shoulders,
unashamed when tears formed at the corners of his eyes and fell. Jon breathed
deeply and Robb wrapped his arms tightly around his waist.
Seventeen is far too young to lose so much, Robb thought.
When they finally pulled apart and went their separate ways, it was with
bittersweet kisses and frantic hands. They were both desperate for any last
touch and sensation, something to take with them when they parted ways at last.
Robb walked to the courtyard in time to meet Jon where he was bringing his
saddle to his horse. They had not seen one another at all that morning after
Jon had disappeared from his chambers. Jon was pale, more so than usual, but
Robb did not ask.
“Did you say goodbye to Bran?” Robb asked instead of commanding him to stay,
demanding Jon give up this foolish quest, begging Jon to reconsider, pleading
with him to juststop this nonsense and fucking stay. “He’s not going to die.”
He reminded his brother. “I know it.”
“You Starks are hard to kill.” Jon retorted, hefting the saddle onto his horse.
Robb stopped in front of the horse, Grey Wind pausing as well at his feet.
Ghost sat on the other side of Jon’s horse, eerie gaze holding on Robb’s face.
“My mother?” Robb asked carefully.
“She was very kind.” Jon replied, mimicking his brother’s cautious tone.
“Good,” Robb replied, instead of calling his brother out on the obvious lie.
Jon finishes with the saddle and they face one another. “Next time I see you,
you’ll be all in black.”
“It was always my color.” Jon opened his mouth, as if to say more, but no words
came.
“Well, farewell, Snow.” Robb finally managed.
“And you, Stark.” Jon replied. A beat of silence was broken by a frantic hug,
one last reassurance that they were doing the right thing, making the right
decision. Unseen, Robb placed a kiss to his brother’s cheek, one last reminder
of time stolen and hearts given.
“I love you.” Robb whispered before pulling away. Jon swallowed, nodded, and
then Robb turned and left before he did something he could never undo.
When he watched his father and the king’s party depart, his eyes followed the
figure of his brother as he rode off. Duty, Robb thought to himself. Honor,
Sacrifice, Selflessness, Loyalty, Bravery. Love.
Robb drew the curtain and carried on.
 
Second Heartbreak
“Your Grace,”
Robb turned from where he was laughing with Talisa to see Walder Frey watching
him carefully.
“I feel I’ve been remiss in my duties.” He smiled, that old, creepy smile of
his that caused gooseflesh to prick at Robb’s neck and arms. “I’ve given you
meat and wine and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve!”
He broke off with a slightly hysterical chuckle, and Robb smiled weakly at him,
unsure what the man was getting at.
“My new king is married and I owe my new queen a wedding gift.” Frey continued.
After a moment of silence, a scuffle broke out behind him.
“Robb!”
At the sound of Catelyn Stark’s cry, Robb turned to see what was happening just
in time for a man to pull out a blade and stab Talisa in the womb, over and
over again. Robb was motionless, stuck in a state of shock at the happenings
until sharp pain exploded through his body as an arrow pierced his skin. Talisa
cried out and fell to the floor as the room erupted into chaos. Robb felt more
arrows hit him and he crumpled to the ground in agony.
He blacked out for a moment and when he regained consciousness looked up to
find Talisa on the ground, hand on her womb, covering the bloodied hole where
his son had once been. Ned Stark will never ride a horse, Robb thought
illogically as he pulled himself to his feet.
“The King in the North arises.” Walder Frey mocked as Robb stumbled to his wife
in a haze of pain and despair. He gripped the back of Talisa’s neck and she
didn’t stir. She was dead.
From behind him, Catelyn Stark rushed forward and grabbed Walder Frey’s wife
from underneath the head table, a dagger to the girl’s throat. Robb found he
held no sympathy for the girl, could not while his wife and son lay dead on the
cold floor.
“Lord Walder,” Catelyn rasped, an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. “Lord
Walder, enough!” The Frey’s men turned their arrows on Catelyn. “Let it end.
Please, he is my son, my first son! Let him go and I swear we will forget this.
I swear it by the old gods and new, we will take no vengeance.”
Robb had no idea how she could consider that an option; he made no comment,
still staring at Talisa’s stricken face.
“You already swore me one oath, right here in my castle.” Walder Frey answered
her angrily. “You swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!”
“Take me for a hostage!” Catelyn begged. “But let Robb go! Robb!”
Robb didn’t so much as look at his mother.
“Robb, get up! Get up and walk out! Please!” When he did not move, she
screamed, “Please!”
“And why would I let him do that?” Walder asked her.
“On my honor as a Tully, on my honor as a Stark, let him go or I will cut your
wife’s throat.” Catelyn threatened. Robb finally stood with some effort, a
tired groan echoing from his throat.
“I’ll find another.” Walder replied simply, and Robb knew they were never
walking out of there. He turned to look at his mother’s petrified face.
“Mother-“ He tried, only for Roose Bolton to appear in front of him.
“The Lannisters send their regards.” He said, jamming a knife into Robb’s
heart. He saw his mother’s face break as Robb lost breath to the pain. As he
fell, it wasn’t Talisa and their child that crossed his mind; it wasn’t
thoughts of his mother left without him.
He thought of Jon on his fourteenth name day, of his shy smile and red lips
from the strawberries. He thought of Jon, fifteen and angry, heartbroken over
the unfairness of being a bastard amongst lords. He thought of Jon trying to do
the honorable thing and let Robb go. He thought of Jon, beautiful and
breathless underneath him in the godswood that first time. He thought of Jon
every time after that, beautiful pale skin and ebony curls for Robb alone –
only ever for Robb.
He thought of Jon on that final morning, when the sun was just breaching the
horizon and Jon was dozing in its pale light, arms under his pillow while he
lay on his stomach. Robb had looked at him and known; he would never love
another. And he hadn’t. He had loved Talisa as much as he could, but Jon had
been and would always be his truth and his light.
With Jon’s beautiful, peaceful face in his mind, he fell to the ground and did
not get back up.
 
A raven flew across the frozen trees and ground and came to rest only once it
had reached Castle Black. Around its ankle was tied a small note.
Jon Snow –
Your brother Robb Stark has been killed as well as his mother and wife and many
others. Trust no one.
The note went into a satchel of a young boy who brought it down to where the
men were finishing breaking their fasts. He searched amongst the scattering of
men and found Samwell Tarly.
“For Jon Snow,” he said. Sam nodded and brought the note upstairs to where Jon
was finishing getting dressed.
“A note for you.” Sam said. Jon grabbed it and unrolled it. He read the two
lines once, twice, a third time, and then looked up at Sam.
“My brother is dead.” Jon said, unable to believe what he was saying. “Robb…”
He thought of Robb’s face on the day he had left, gorgeous Tully-red hair and
youthful flicker of brightness in his eyes.
Sam left him alone and for the first time in a very long time, Jon allowed
himself to cry.
 
End Notes
     Chose not to use "major character death" because this is only a
     prequel
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