A/N: THIS IS A SEQUEL TO 'FOR HIS HONOUR'

Well, hello again everyone!

I'm away from home and posting this up quickly, and I just want to say a massive thanks to all those who followed 'For His Honour', and are continuing on with the journey with me. Hope you enjoy chapter one.

This picks up almost exactly where the last one left off.

Oh, and there's a new POV for you, hope you like!

:)

I

Robb was quiet as he and Roslin made their way towards the nursery, and thankfully his wife did not speak up to question him on his silence. Already the doubts were creeping in, but what else could he have done? He had no one else to back for the Iron Throne, and he refused to seat it himself. The North was where he belonged, and even that was more than he had ever asked for or wanted. Helping Aegon was the only thing to do. He was kin now, like it or not, and he seemed like a decent man, a man he could trust not to invade him a few years down the line at least. The only trouble was his inexperience, his naivety in certain matters. Robb knew from his own experience that being a king was not easy, especially during war time, and since peace time looked set to coincide with winter, he doubted it would get any better.

He was lucky to have such a strong wife at his side, without her he didn't think he would have been half as successful in his ventures. Yes, he knew how to win battles, but Roslin had ensured they would more than likely win the war, and she knew how to win hearts. Something which he knew he could not underestimate. He could only hope that Sansa could be almost like the same kind of queen, that she was brave and secure enough to steer Aegon right when he was going wrong. Right now he did not have that faith in his sister, and it was yet another thing that scared him. He had given his word now though, there was no going back from that. The door to the nursery came upon them as he tortured himself over his decision, and Roslin's hand left his arm so she could move to open it. He followed her in, hoping his little princess could weave her magic and make all his troubles melt away for a few moments.

Grey Wind appeared to have been let in again, sat right next to the cradle with his great head resting against the edge of it. Robb noted that his daughter's nurses had retreated as far away as possible, and he sent his wolf a pointed look. "Sorry, your Graces," one of them spoke up, and Robb turned his attention to them again, seeing them both curtsey for him. "He was whining and scratching at the door, we tried to shoo him away, but…"

"Don't worry," Robb assured her as she tailed off, "I know well enough what he's like." Grey Wind whined softly at the dark look Robb sent him, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at his wolf, a ghost of a smile twitching at his lips as he moved closer to the cradle. He lay his hand on the small of Roslin's back as they both peered down at their daughter. Bethany was awake and alert, her blue eyes the exact shade of Robb's own now, but all her other features were so distinctly Roslin. He wondered if she would inherit Roslin's will as well, hoping that she would. When the time came he would have to choose a match wisely for her, to make sure she was joined to a man who would respect her the way she ought to be. That was a long way off though, and he refused to think on it any more as Roslin bent down to scoop her up into her arms.

If there was one sight he adored beyond all others, it was seeing his wife cradling their daughter. Roslin had always been sweet and caring, but it seemed to intensify whenever she was in Bethany's presence, and Robb loved to see the look in her eyes and the clear affection etched across her beautiful features. Grey Wind interrupted his tender thoughts by bumping his head against his hip and whining, looking between him and Roslin mournfully. "What?" it was Roslin who spoke up, eyeing the wolf suspiciously. "Do you suppose I will drop her?" Roslin continued in an amused tone. "And who would catch her? You? With those fangs? I think not." She shot him a pointed look, and Grey Wind whined pitifully, as though he had understood everything Roslin had just said to him.

"Don't look at me for sympathy," Robb told him, "you shouldn't be in here anyway, intimidating the nurses." Grey Wind huffed in response, laying himself down on the floor and resting his head down on his paws, his mournful expression not fading. "He may be a pain," Robb said in an undertone as he stepped closer to Roslin, "but he is the most loyal guard we could appoint to her." Roslin smiled at that, and Robb moved his hand to rest gently on their daughter's back.

"I agree," his wife said, "but when you march again, he will not be able to be in two places at once, and I want him with you." Robb didn't feel able to broach the subject of their inevitable separation yet, and so he stepped ever closer and pressed his lips firmly to hers for a long moment. At the beginning of their marriage he imagined that it would not have been difficult to be parted from Roslin, but now he loved her with an intensity that still sometimes frightened him, the thought was torturous.

Roslin was more than just a wife to him. More than a warm body to curl himself around at night. More than a queen and mother to his adored princess. She was his closest friend, his closest confidant and advisor. Since his injury she had stepped up and taken control of his kingdoms for him. Since his recovery they made decisions together, even minor ones. The thought of her being hundreds of leagues away from him where he could no longer reach for her to calm his inner anxiety or reassure him that he was doing the right thing was unappealing to say the least. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone in his life. How was he supposed to cope without her soothing words stopping him from losing his temper? Or her hand resting reassuringly on his knee during council, adding silent pressure here and there that let him know when he had said enough or not?

It was tempting to keep her with him, but it would be beyond selfish. He would be asking her to risk their daughter in the midst of a war, and he could not, would not, do that. The only other alternative would be to leave Bethany behind, and again it was monstrous to even consider it. He would have to cope without his daughter, he would not make Roslin suffer the same thing. Bethany needed at least one of them, and one look at her tiny, perfect, hand clasped around a lock of Roslin's hair, was enough to ensure that Robb would never even suggest leaving her. He would have to cope somehow. He would have his lords with him, and he would have his wolf. Likely he would soon have a Kingsguard too, since Roslin was determined to get her way and ensure he formed one.

"Do you want her a moment?" her soft tones interrupted his inner thoughts, and he nodded his head at once.

"A little more than a moment, if you don't mind," he said in an amused tone, and Roslin beamed at him. She moved closer, and between them they eased Bethany into his arms. The baby grunted a little, her fingers flexing as he cradled her against his chest, her fist finally clamping around one of the fastenings of his doublet. He couldn't look at Roslin as he held their daughter, because he knew what he would see in those eyes he could feel boring into him. It would have to be said eventually, but right now he would not even think on the fact that they would have to be parted far sooner that he would like, and for far longer than he wanted.

He looked up at the walls as the Stark banners were raised back up, the grey direwolf fluttering in the strong wind that had picked up the night before. The Smalljon had barely been able to sleep as it had whistled through gaps in the window and banged at doors that had been carelessly left open. It hadn't helped that his blood was still pounding from the victory they had achieved. The Ironborn had been weak, less than a hundred of them left holding the towers. None had surrendered. They had lost fewer than thirty of their own men, thanks in part to the weakened health of their enemy. Attacking at night had also helped, the Smalljon wagered, as he took a long breath. Moat Cailin was back in northern hands again, and soon they would be moving to march on Winterfell to take back their king's seat. That would likely prove to be a harder fight, but one he was relishing all the same.

A hand clapped his shoulder, and he turned his head to see that his father had arrived. "Word from the King," his father informed him before he could ask. "He's going to aid the Targaryen, so we need to move quickly," he continued, and the Smalljon raised his brows at the news. "We march as soon as the men have packed up, I have already given the order and sent word to the Mormonts," his father explained, and he nodded, "Maege has rid Deepwood of the treacherous krakens, the Glovers will be grateful of that. Dacey has her men in the wolfswood. We will make for Cerwyn, and then we can come upon Winterfell from three sides. By the Gods," his father sighed heavily, "I never thought I would live to utter those words."

"It will be back in true northern hands soon enough, father," the Smalljon told him, and he nodded.

"Aye, lad," his father agreed, clapping him on the shoulder again.

"What are the King's orders? Do we return south when we have reclaimed the North?" the Smalljon asked, imagining that the answer would be yes.

"We are ordered to leave a third of the men behind, and any badly injured," his father answered, "the King will be sending the queen and his family north once we have it secured. He would see that they are well guarded, and that rebuilding can begin in his absence."

"Aye," the Smalljon agreed, "I wonder if the queen would see fit to send some of the Dreadfort's stone here. Winterfell is not the only seat in need of repairs." Three towers may well be enough for the settlement to keep any invaders at bay, but the Smalljon was not sure that the Drunkard's tower would stand for much longer. He was sure that the North would benefit from strengthening Moat Cailin, especially against northern invasion. The Ironborn had shown how weak the fortress was from the north, and with Stannis still milling around somewhere, it would be better safe than sorry.

"You can ask it of her yourself," his father answered him, "the King has asked that you remain to aid her and keep order amongst the men."

"That is an honour indeed," the Smalljon said weakly. He supposed he should have known that someone would have to remain behind, especially if the King was sending his entire family back home to the North. The thought that it could be him had never crossed his mind.

"Aye," his father agreed, "high honour, and you know how the King listens to the queen. If you impress her, you may well earn yourself a seat on the King's council when we finally come to peace time. The King obviously trusts you, lad, make sure you show him his trust is well placed."

Jeyne practically skipped down the hallway, bursting through the door of their temporary chambers and smiling even more widely when she saw that Damon was present. "As much as I would love it to be, something tells me that smile is not all for me," her husband said in an amused tone, and she smoothed her hands down over her stomach in response.

"I was right," she said simply, and he closed the gap between them in two great strides, lifting her effortlessly off her feet. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in the crook of it. His lips were pressed to the top of her head as he lowered her gently back down so her feet found solid stone again. She loosened her grip on him, pulling back to meet his eyes, only to have his lips capture hers at once. Jeyne happily kissed him in return, tears stinging her eyes at the sheer perfection of this moment. This moment that she had been afraid would never happen.

It all seemed so stupid now that her longing was satisfied. "You are going to be the most wonderful mother in this world," Damon murmured against her lips when he pulled back, and her smile felt as though it would crack her face.

"I cannot believe it is finally happening," she said in wonderment as he pressed his forehead gently against her own.

"I love you, Jeyne," he told her, and her heart swelled. He had never told her that before. Damon always showed her affection, left her in no doubt of how strongly he cared for her, but he had never uttered a declaration of love before.

"I love you," she whispered back to him, and he pressed a firm kiss to her forehead in response.

"I should have told you that a long time ago," he said quietly, and she moved to embrace him more tightly.

"Now was perfect," she told him honestly, and his own arms tightened around her.

"I am even more glad that we will soon be leaving now," he said, smoothing his hand through her hair, "the sooner word comes that Winterfell is back in loyal hands the better. It is high time you and I had a place to call home." Tears really did begin to leak from Jeyne's eyes at his words, and she kept her head against his chest, letting his fingers running through her hair soothe her. A year ago she would have said that this would be impossible. A year ago she was still mourning Robb's marriage to another woman. Still helplessly in love with a man who could never be hers. Worse, to a man who slipped further away with every passing day with his beautiful new queen. Robb firmly belonged to another, and Jeyne had just about stopped believing that she would ever find happiness of her own when Damon had manifested himself in her life.

She still wasn't sure why he had wanted her of all people. Why he had been so determined to make her, a spoiled woman with no fortune and a family who despised her, his wife. But he had, and she was more grateful to him that she had ever thought to tell him. He could have taken a better prospect than her easily. He had the queen's favour, and one word to her would likely have found him a true maiden from a good northern house in service to the King. She pulled her head back from his chest and looked up to meet his eyes. Damon drove her mad on occasion, but she wouldn't change him for anything. "Thank you," she told him sincerely, "for everything. You are more than I could ever have asked for, and our child will be lucky indeed to have you as a father."

Sansa quickened her pace as she walked down the hallway. Aegon had given her news that Robb's men had retaken Moat Cailin and would soon be upon Winterfell. That meant they were closer to word coming that it was safe to return to the North. She wasn't sure how to feel about such a thing. Part of her was glad that she would be returning to her childhood home, and to her family that she had been longing for, for longer than she could remember. The other part of her was terrified. Terrified that her brother, who was only just regaining his strength and prowess with a sword, would have to go out and fight again. And not just him, but Aegon too, her husband. The husband she had never wanted. The husband she had married to get home. The husband she had clung too when it all became too much. The husband who held her tightly in his arms when the storms had frightened her. The husband who was patient. Caring. Gentle.

Her pace slowed as she approached their chambers. She had no idea how she was supposed to explain all her feelings to Aegon. All of them sounded mortifying in her head. She had to say something though, she had to let him know that when they were parted that she would miss him. Perhaps that would be enough, perhaps just telling him that she would miss him more than she ever imagined would be just enough. She took a breath and pushed open the door, seeing him stood by the round table in the corner with Jon Connington. They both turned at her entrance, Aegon smiling happily at her, and Connington merely sparing her a glance before turning back to the table. As she moved closer she could see that there was a map of the seven kingdoms spread across it. Markers had been lain, and she cast her eyes over them, blinking a little stupidly when she saw the wolf sat over Casterly Rock.

It still amazed her that Robb had taken such a fortress. That he had taken it to try and force the Lannisters into negotiating her release. She knew that it had not been his only motivation; that his lords making him King had meant he had been trying to gain independence for the North as well. Still, it had partly been for her, and that made her more grateful to him than she could explain. It also made her feel guilty for putting him in this position. She knew that without her marriage to Aegon that Robb would likely have refused him. She knew that Robb wanted nothing more than to leave for Winterfell when the rest of them did, that he was likely dreading being parted from his wife and daughter.

"I think that's enough for today," Aegon's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Very well, your Grace," Connington bobbed his head slightly to Aegon before inclining it to her in a rather grudging manner. She returned the gesture, smiling serenely. She still didn't trust him, and had confided her suspicions and uneasiness to Roslin. More than anything she needed Roslin to help her ensure that she could be a good queen to Aegon when the time came. Roslin had advised her to be sweet and polite to Connington, especially when Aegon could see it. She advised her to make sure that she had a place in Aegon's heart, to make sure that he would remember her voice in his mind even when they were parted. Sansa was unsure how to do such a thing, but she did know how to be sweet and kind to Connington, and so she resolved to do just that.

"Alone at last," Aegon said when the door clicked shut, and Sansa turned her attention to him, seeing him already gazing at her. "What have you done with your evening?" he asked her curiously, and he knew she must be wondering where she had disappeared to after dinner.

"After what you said about Moat Cailin, I wanted to speak with Roslin about when we would go to Winterfell," she told him. It was half true, though she wished she had said something else when she saw the look in his eyes. He almost looked hurt, and it wasn't hard to imagine what he must be thinking. That he must think that she would be glad to be away from him, even if just for a while. She shook her head on instinct, stepping closer to him and laying her hands on his chest. "I will miss you," she promised him, meeting his eyes.

Something changed in the violet of them, but before she could work it out he was bending to nudge his nose against hers, nuzzling at her for a moment before capturing her lips. She kissed him back gladly, and when he deepened their kiss she felt her stomach twist in knots. His hands travelled up her back and tangled in her hair, and she let her own wrap around his neck, pressing her body closer to him. If she did not have the words for Aegon, then she could at least try and show him with actions how much she had grown to care for him. The thought of it made her nervous, but when his fingers tentatively began to unlace her dress she did not pull away. As though encouraged, he continued to unlace her, guiding them both towards the bed. Her stomach clenched tighter, though despite her nerves being piqued, she felt more of a sense of apprehension than anything else.

When he pulled the back of her dress open she pulled back from his kiss, gasping for air. His eyes met hers, and she could see the apology in them before he uttered the words. "I'm pushing you, I'm sorry," he said, but she shook her head.

"No, please," she whispered, "I trust you, I want to be your true wife." His lips were back on hers the moment she uttered the words, and she allowed her fingers to loosen his doublet as he peeled the material of her dress down her arms.

"I cannot bear the thought of hurting you," he murmured against her lips as he shrugged out of his doublet.

"A moment is all," she whispered back, hoping that it was true, "and only once." She quietly resolved to mask whatever pain came as best she could, as her dress and shift hit the floor and she felt the light breeze against her naked flesh.

"Are you sure?" Aegon asked her, pulling back to meet his eyes. She nodded her head, holding his eyes as she stepped out of his loose hold and moved to slip into their bed. His chest was rising and falling quickly as he pulled his tunic up and over his head. Sansa couldn't help but admire the strength of him, the muscles likely built from the years of pulling his weight aboard the Shy Maid, and training for combat. When his hands dropped to his breeches though she had to turn away. Where that was concerned she would rather remain in ignorance for just a little while longer. Her stomach was clenched again, the nerves battling to return. She willed them away, turning her head back to look at Aegon as he slipped between the sheets with her. They had done this on many a night, but never unclothed and bared to one another. She swallowed hard as he inched closer, his hand slipping around her waist and across her stomach as he rolled onto his side.

Sansa knew well enough what came next, and so she slowly spread her legs. He seemed to take her hint, shifting himself until he was nestled above her. His hand came to her thigh, his touch making her shudder, though not in an unpleasant manner. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, before he pressed a light kiss to her collarbone, both his hands slowly roaming her body beneath the sheets. Sansa did not think she had the words to respond, his touch making her hot and aching in places she had never imagined. She let her own hands come to his arms, caressing up and down the hard muscles. He exhaled deeply in response, shifting himself until she could feel his hardness between her legs. His eyes closed for a moment, and almost agonised look on his face. Listening to her body she shifted her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist, and this time his head dropped into the crook of her neck, a groan stifled.

She held her breath as he shifted his hips, closed her eyes and bit down on her lip at the sudden sting. It was not as bad as she had imagined it to be. If anything it was more strange and uncomfortable than painful. He stilled inside her, and she released her lip, keeping her eyes closed as she focused on breathing in time with his warm breaths against her neck. Slowly her body relaxed completely around him, and while it still felt strange to feel him there, there was no longer the hint of pain. As she relaxed he moved, his hips rocking slowly back and forth. Again, it felt strange, a slightly dull ache between her thighs as he moved within her. She shifted her own hips slightly, and it felt almost pleasant. On that discovery she moved in time with him again and again. His pace was still slow, and Sansa was glad of it, the slight throb of pain still not entirely abated.

She allowed her hands to trail up his back and he arched further into her, making her gasp for unknown reasons, her nails pinching slightly into his skin. He groaned, before lifting his head from the crook of her neck and crashing his lips into hers. She kissed him back slowly, focusing on him in her mouth rather than between her thighs. That seemed to make it all a little better, make it blur more around the edges as his fingers twisted themselves in her hair again. His pace quickened slightly in the next moment, and a little noise that sounded almost like frustration left him, before his lips came from hers, his forehead pressing against hers as he gasped out his release. Sansa lay still beneath him, focusing on her own breaths as he panted above her, his eyes slightly unfocused. Eventually he seemed to blink himself back to reality, his eyes finding hers and a slight look of relief shining in them.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he murmured sincerely, and she smiled for him, allowing her hand to reach up and cup his cheek.

"It was little more than a scratch," she told him, "I promise you." He nuzzled against her palm in response, before he slowly lifted his hips so they were separated again. She felt oddly empty without him now, a slight ache still throbbing between her legs. It was easily ignored when she met Aegon's eyes again, seeing an almost wonder shining from him. "I'm glad I trusted you," she whispered, and a smile twitched his lips at once.

"So am I," he said, his tone almost teasing, the lightness enough to make her giggle.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," she said seriously, and he shook his head at once.

"Never apologise for that," he implored her, "I am glad we waited until you were ready, and I am more thrilled than I can say that you trust me as I trust you."

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! I'll get more up for you soon!

:)