He was supposed to be studying maps, but his head felt strangely fuzzy and he just kept going in circles after circles after circles, trying to work something out so that it would make sense. iDon't send him/i, his mother had said, isend someone else/i. And he had asked what could happen.

In the – sometimes, it seemed, perverse – ways of the gods, they had answered his question. Bran – helpless, harmless Bran, and Rickon, nothing more than a baby…

"Robb? –my lord." He looked up, startled. Had he fallen asleep? His face was slumped on his hand, and, looking at the pad he'd been writing on, none of the scribblings seemed familiar. She seemed anxiously uncertain, watching him as though he might leap up and bite her. Robb stretched out his legs, wishing to feel the warmth of Grey Wind under his feet, but then remembered he'd had to put him outside. His presence made Jeyne nervous.

Robb sighed. "—yes, what," he said before noticing that she was holding out a tray, two cups stacked and a small teapot beside it, steam wafting from the spout. "…oh. I'm sorry."

"There is no fault, my lord," she said, still sounding uncertain. Robb gave her a slightly sharp look, but her lowered eyes told him nothing. He felt a touch of exasperation.

She hadn't given him the news – that had come in a letter – but had been the first to speak with him about it. Taking his hand and speaking so earnestly he could have thought that their families had been friends for ages, rather than he having just taken control of her home in battle, "I'm so sorry," Jeyne had whispered, kneeling. Her lips were warm on his hand and then his wrist, one hand on his chest.

She had not been so demure then, so shy – he remembered her hands running down his back, the way she arched and rubbed against his body-

Robb colored and quickly set down the quill he was holding to stand. "—forgive me." If she knew what he was thinking – even not knowing what he was thinking! What a crude – she must think him some sort of savage, and perhaps rightly so. He could feel his face growing hot.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?" She glanced up and he saw her eyes. She didn't look afraid or nervous, and she'd come here at all – perhaps he was reading too much into too little.

"For – not asking you to sit down, my lady. I have been remiss in my manners. Are you – did you bring this for me?"

"I don't see anyone else," she murmured, and Robb felt his face warm. Crude and stupid. He looked away and bit his lip.

"Thank you. You are – most considerate." This seemed, however, to be the wrong thing to say, as she glanced down at once, face almost invisible again.

They sipped their tea in awkward silence, Robb uncertain what to say because he wasn't sure what he had done wrong. But eventually he had to break it. "I'm – sorry, my lady, if I have – offended you somehow?"

He didn't mean to end the sentence in a question, but it came out that way anyway. If his cheeks continued to get any ruddier Robb had a distinct suspicion they might stay that way forever.

"—offended me?" She looked more surprised than offended, if anything. Mostly surprised. "Ser – my lord – I don't know what you could have possibly done to offend me. You have been nothing but – exceeding gracious…"

His mother had always castigated him for impatience. He should have held his tongue, but he couldn't help setting the tea down and looking up at her with a scowl. "Then why won't you even look at me? I must have done isomething/i or do you truly find me so abhorrent now-"

He realized a moment too late that he had broken the taboo against speaking of What Had Happened, and colored even more, matching her shade of pink now.

"No, that's not it at all," she said quickly, and he cut her off, "What is it, then?" And her eyes filled up with tears as she said, "You must think me so – so – ithoughtless!/i"

At that point, he was lost. Robb had never been much good with any girls' tears, be they his sisters or another, and he could only stare in bewilderment, wondering what on earth had made her think that. "…thoughtless? iYou?/i"

"T-to throw myself at you in such a manner, you must think it was only – taking advantage of your – v-vulnerability to – force you into a marriage, or else make things easier for my family, I don't know…"

Robb blinked, and blinked again. Truth be told, he hadn't even thought so much about it. "That's not-" He cleared his throat. "Jeyne – my lady, that's not it at iall/i. I know sometimes – some –" He could feel himself blushing. "I could have said no, and I didn't, I took advantage of you and it was – dishonorable of me-"

"You could not be dishonorable if you tried," Jeyne said, passionately. "You must believe me, Robb – my lord – it was none of those things, it was only that I felt – felt so much for you, and wanted to do something, somehow… I did not – I do not expect – I didn't intend to trap you into a marriage, even if there – was a child there are-"

Robb wanted to put his hands over his ears and not listen, and deliberately not to think about what her skin tasted like and how soft it had been under his fingertips. "You're not – I couldn't just leave you to be – the rumors and whispers would be worse than-"

"You don't owe me anything," she said, eyes watering as she looked up at him with utmost honesty. "I don't want you to feel like you do."

Robb stared at her, gaping, and feeling a shocking sense of incomprehension. He wondered, suddenly, if they were speaking the same language.

iThis is stupid/i, said a small and rather Arya-like voice in his head, and for once he agreed with it and really, talking just wasn't working, and he kept looking at her lips and wondering if they still felt the same way.

So he kissed her.

It seemed that this was something he should have done earlier, as at once Jeyne melted in his arms with one of those nice, soft little noises and stopped talking about how she'd trapped him into marrying her, because if it was anyone's fault it was his. And once he started kissing her it somehow got hard to stop.

He came up for air. "Don't try to – take away my responsibility," he said, very seriously. "It's mine. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have it." She made a sound that might have been supposed to be a laugh, but her face was pressed into top of his chest. This did, however, allow him to notice something.

"Your hair smells nice," he said, and then realized how utterly inane that sounded, and felt rather guilty for it. He kissed her again to make up for it.

This time when they pulled apart, he felt giddy and his voice sounded husky. "I mean it. It's not your fault, anything." She was running her fingers through his hair again, and words seemed rather far away. He grasped at them, came up empty, and decided it would be better to put his arms around Jeyne's waist and pull her closer.

So he was kissing her and kissing her chin and down her throat as she tilted her head back and he found himself thinking about the warmth of her body and the way her body just fit nicely against him and the curve of her breasts pressed against his chest.

He realized too late that now he was in trouble.

Robb colored. "Sorry," he started to say, to pull away, but she didn't let him go, her face still smeared with tears, but her eyes were bright at least, now. And she was looking at him.

"For what?" She went up on tiptoes and kissed his nose, which made him blush more. "We are man and wife now."

They kissed again. Robb allowed his hands to inch down to cup her buttocks. Jeyne's hands kneaded his shoulders.

"Bed?" He asked hoarsely, and she shook her head, flushed, and looked embarrassed.

"Too far." Robb examined the room, still holding her, almost unconsciously moving his body against her. "—desk," he said, and took her off her feet. She yelped, startled, and glancing at the desk, Robb had to set her down sitting on the one clear space so he could sweep the rest of the stuff off. He did have to lift the lamp.

"I know it's not quite atmospheric," Robb said, a little ruefully, coming back and breathing hard, only barely from the exertion. "But-"

He gave up on trying to convince anyone and kissed her. It was awkward, clambering onto the desk, and they laughed at how ridiculous this would look if someone came in. "Don't say that," Robb told her, running his hand up her leg to lift her skirts away from skin. "You'll kill the mood."

She leaned into him, eyes wide. "I like it when you're fierce," she said.

"Even though it's only the second time?"

"I know it," she whispered, and the hair on his neck prickled up all at once. He kissed her then, fiercely, and fumbled open the laces of her bodice. Her skin was as warm and soft as he remembered it, and he was glad memory had not deceived him.