Chapter Text
“You said you were going to start taking responsibility for your actions.”
“I didn’t mean marry the girl. I was thinking more along the lines of giving her money and sending her on her way.” Theon sighed as he stepped out of his breeches and let them fall to the ground. “I don’t even know her name.”
From the bed, Robb raised one eyebrow. “You don’t know your son’s mother’s name?”
“He’s not my son.”
“I’ve seen the boy’s eyes. I’d say there’s a fair chance he is your son.”
Theon scowled and continued undressing, though he was tempted to put on a good show then simply fuck off to his own room to leave Robb all hot and bothered.
“I know you think it’s beneath you,” Robb continued in a way that suggested he agreed, “but think of it this way: You were there when I got news that my father…what the Lannisters had done to my father.”
Theon nodded. Robb had often cried as a little boy, but as a man he’d wailed even louder than Catelyn Stark. “You hardly spoke at all for nearly three days.” Even to me. You wanted to be alone, or with your mother. You all acted like it was something I couldn’t understand.
“And I was there when you received news that your father had…died. You barely reacted at all.”
“That’s no comparison,” Theon scoffed. “I hardly knew the man. And what I did know of him, he was a wrinkled-up old cunt.”
“Do you want that boy to grow up thinking of you as a wrinkled-up cunt?”
Theon slipped his smallclothes over his waist and enjoyed the way Robb stopped talking. He was used to admiring looks, had reveled in them ever since he’d become aware that he was handsome, but he especially loved the way Robb complimented him with his eyes. A year ago, he never would have tumbled with a man this way or seriously considered marrying some lowborn captain’s daughter. Robb had a way of changing him that was almost scary.
“Having a child around might be good for my mother,” he conceded, joining Robb on the bed. I wonder how she’ll react to a boy that looks so much like me. He wouldn’t admit it, but the child did bear a striking resemblance. “I’ll think about it.”
“Well…” Robb wrapped his arms around Theon’s neck and pulled him closer. The redhead was easily the warmest thing on this barren rock of an island. “I did have a list of potential lady wives for you to help strengthen our alliances. Wylla Manderly, Alysane Mormont, Alys Karstark…”
“Gods,” Theon cried. “I’d rather marry Arya. I said I’ll think about it. The captain’s daughter whose name I don’t even know.” He pushed flush against Robb, their naked bodies melding like they were made for each other. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll raise my bastard while you’re raising Asha’s. Proud House Greyjoy. We’ll be the next Codds or Humbles.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“They’re all sons of whores. Blood as low as dirt. They were the ones my uncle left at Moat Cailin.”
“They seemed reasonable men.” Robb gripped Theon’s waist and expertly flipped them, Theon on top. “I expect you to learn your new wife’s name before the ceremony. But for now…someone once told me a man should not be alone on his wedding night.” He ground his hips upwards, and Theon groaned. Robb was getting better at this. “Treat me as your lady wife tonight.”
He was also getting better at not blushing, all’s the pity.
“Are you sure? It will hurt.”
“You won’t hurt me.” Robb brushed his hand over Theon’s cheek. “I trust you, Theon. With my body, with my life. Now…” He bucked up again. “Fuck me.”
Theon obliged.