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“And when can one expect to see you married, hm?”
Ned poured their cups again. “No plans for it. I think my lord father hopes I will find someone at the tourney.”
“Without competing?”
“I am no jouster, Robert. I wouldn’t want to give my wife the impression that I am.”
Robert chuckled into his cup. Evidently finding some wisdom in it, he went on, “Must it be to a northerner? Or might someone who keeps the faith do? ‘Cause Tytos Blackwood is quite handsome. Might be that his sisters are the same.”
Ned took a second to remember what the Blackwood heir looked like. Satisfied, he nodded.
The fire crackled pleasantly in agreement. The Vale winter was dark and cold, and the wine was warm and burning down Ned’s throat. There had been wine at supper as well, and then there had been a bit of song, but one by one the household had gone to bed until only Ned and Robert seemed to remain.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t want to marry a Blackwood,” Ned suddenly realized. “I’d get roped into their feuds, and never know peace again.”
“Then wed some northern girl! There must be fine maidens up there! I’ll come and find them with you, once we’re kin.”
Eddard wished to warn him that he should do no such thing once he married, but he chose not to. It was only jests, after all.
Robert stretched himself across the settee they were on. “There was that girl at supper, she in green. Unmarried, I think. Why not her?”
“What? To do what with?”
“What do you bloody think, Ned? Every time you looked her way she was pushing her tits together so that you’d see them. You don’t have to marry her, just have a quick fumble.”
Ned stifled a grimace. “I’ve no interest in tarnishing a woman.”
He felt Robert deflate beside him, but only for a moment. “You can have plenty fun without siring a bastard. Just to learn how it’s done, you know? So that you won’t disappoint your wife.” Robert’s voice fell to a coo. “Otherwise you’ll both be maidens. Your poor wife. I would tell the Father and the Mother to give you guidance, but I suppose it’ll be your own gods.”
Ned shoved at him. “Do you think me that stupid? The Seven are not there to teach that, Robert, even I know that much.”
“Been reading the books, have you?”
“No, but you haven’t,” Ned veered away as Robert made to throttle him, “and I know you would be literate as a maester if there was anything of the sort—!”
Lord Baratheon became red as a beet. “You cur! How very dare you! Stop laughing, Ned, that actually wounds me, you know how often Jon forced studying upon me,” he said, pushing him back and forth by his shoulders.
He is drunk, Ned realized. It was no surprise, they had nearly emptied the bottle. Robert was considerably stronger than him but knew to be gentle, but now the wine was in him and he might easily knock Ned to the ground.
He detangled himself from Robert’s grip and cleared his throat. “When I was a child, I thought that one day I’d simply know how to do it in a bed. I suppose that there is not, no?”
“I learned by watching,” Robert said. “Brothels sometimes leave their window latches open.”
Tendrils of unease were tugging inside of Ned’s chest then. There had been women which made his heart beat faster, and made his breeches grow tight. Girls with soft breasts hidden beneath their clothes, which he imagined taking off and then pressing his own chest against them, smooth arms beneath his hands… but those women were seldom the sort that you saw in brothel windows.
But only seldom, for once when he was fifteen, there was a bare-shouldered girl on the street, who was smiling at him and tossing her skirts back and forth. And the sight mesmerized him so that he would’ve stood there and watched forever if not for Lord Jon Arryn smacking his ear.
“Did you fall asleep?”
Ned tore his eyes from the fire. “What if I do it wrong? When I marry, I mean. We’ll both be maidens who don’t know what we’re doing — what if I do it wrong?”
“If she’s a maiden, she’ll hardly know either,” Robert said from somewhere behind him.
“And then we’ll have no children.” Ned sighed. “And all of Winterfell will think something is the matter with us.”
“There’s truly not that much to it. Have you seen dogs fuck? S’about the same.” Robert held out his hand and cupped nothing. “When you self-pleasure. Do you do it like this?”
“More or less.”
“Well, pretend that it’s a cunt. You fuck it ’til you peak, and that’s that.”
At some point, Robert had turned around on the settee and they were no longer sitting side by side. Ned felt himself growing askew. “That’s that?”
“Aye.”
“What do you do to the breasts?”
“Anything you want. Bury your face in them, suck them. The nipples, you pinch them, but not hard. Like this.”
He reached over. Ned yelped. “That was hard!”
“Gods, you’re such a girl.”
Enough wine remained to pour a thimbleful in each of their cups. When they were done, Robert shook the bottle up and down to see if more might be hiding within. Neither of them were willing to sleep yet, nor did they have the strength to leave the room and find another bottle.
There was a pitcher, its contents more water than ale. Robert frowned at it, but they drank nonetheless. A part of Ned saw the wisdom in trying to sober up before he slept, so that he would not be so knackered in the morning, but it was easily ignored.
“If I was a girl,” Robert began. “If I was a lady, I would let you have me. As a favor, so you wouldn’t be so nervous for your wedding night.”
“And I am certain my lady wife would be overjoyed.”
“As a favor!” Robert cried. “Just the once, to teach you how it’s done. I’d maybe even let you have my virtue. You’d let me do the same, wouldn’t you?”
Ned giggled into his cup. “I would not. You would get a bastard on me, I know it.”
Robert slapped his leg. “Bugger you, Stark. No, I’d make an honest woman out of you. My little maiden of the North. I’d wed you before a tree, like you wanted, and then I’d fill you with children.”
He’s not speaking to me anymore, Ned thought with a stab of melancholy. He’s imagining Lyanna in my stead.
“Thank you,” he said before the mood was gone. “I would do the same for you, my lord.”
“Good, good.”
The fire was still burning, enough wood in it to burn the whole night through. Ned watched a log glow and smolder and tasted his cup. The ale in the pitcher was so weak that he wondered if it was ale at all. Lord Arryn was fond of lemon water and often made sure it was available in the rooms.
Robert’s heavy head landed on Ned’s shoulder. “You’re going to do well when the time comes, I’m certain,” he murmured. “And if you don’t, tell me and I shall try and help.”
“Help? I’m not letting you into my bedroom.”
“Please, it’s not as though I haven’t seen you in the nude before.”
“Have you?”
“I must have.”
Ned tried to recall if he had ever seen Robert in the nude. It was a great effort to try and recall anything at all. His head felt thick as wool. But I must have. They had known each other since boyhood, and Ned could recall seeing his brothers in the nude, and perhaps once even Lord Arryn. But Robert…
“—well, do you want to?” Robert asked.
They locked the door first. The room was well lit by the fire and the candles, but it was night and it was winter, and the shadows had grown large and dark.
Robert was fiddling with his belt. Ned’s wits returned to him in an instant; “Perhaps we shouldn’t. I believe I am getting tired”
“I knew you’d get shy,” Robert scowled. “I’ll go first, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”
The Lord of Storm’s End pulled down his trousers and undid his breeches, revealing himself. His cock hung at an angle, not hard but not entirely soft. He was very hairy; Ned knew Robert’s chest was covered in black hair, and he saw now that that hair went down his belly and to his crotch, covering his thighs.
“You’re sizable,” Ned complimented.
The Lord of Storm’s End grinned. “I’ve had no complaints. Yours?”
Ned could not recall when they had agreed to reveal themselves, or what exactly had driven the conversation here. He undid his laces carefully — he was so drunk that he feared if he lost his balance, he would simply fall and never get back up again. Fighting his fear, Ned took himself out as well.
“Oh, you’re very dark,” Robert blurted out. “I did not expect that.”
“I am?”
“I don’t know. Means I’ve never seen your prick before, though. I’d remember that.”
(Neither of them will remember this night particularly clearly. It’s only fun, after all.)
He wasn’t sure when, but at some point Robert had come close enough to touch him and get a better look. He was the larger of the two, not unexpectedly as he was a full head taller, his chin on Ned’s shoulder and breathing shakily like he might at any moment laugh.
“It’s not so bad,” Robert commented. When Ned wheeled on him, he hastily added, “I mean, it is good. Not small, not filthy, or anything. It looks fine. Your wife will like it.”
“I’m hoping she will like more of me than just that,” Ned muttered.
“Of course she will, Ned. You’re such a pretty thing.”
“Don’t call me pretty.”
“I will. I’m allowed to, I’m your elder, and you’re still a boy. Hardly even a hair on you,” he pulled at the wispy hairs on Ned’s upper lip, “like a maiden fair.”
There was something bad in the air. Something frightening. Something exciting. Robert made jests of that kind now and then, mocking him for his lacking beard, and usually Ned could bear it. Now it struck him as rather mean, but Ned did not want to argue. Arguing would mean ruining the mood.
As children he and Lyanna had looked so alike, even more so than she and Benjen. It used to be that she’d get mistaken for a boy, and he’d be mistaken for a girl. Both of them had hated it, but Ned believed he had hated it more than his sister did. Men were meant to be handsome, not pretty.
“No I’m not,” he said.
Robert roused. “Hrm?”
“I’m not a maiden, Robert. I may not have been to bed with anyone, but I am not a maiden, I am a man—”
“Of course you are!” Robert said too loudly, right into his ear, and he kissed him on the cheek. “I’m only making a lark, Ned, I can see your prick myself. But were you a girl you wouldn’t have been a maiden, oh no, ‘cause I would’ve fucked you bloody the first day in the Vale.”
It was a jape. Ned did not laugh. Ned and Robert had met at thirteen and fourteen, and it was not so hard to fathom Robert doing such a thing. Thirteen and fourteen. A very bad joke.
He felt a flicker of dread in his guts. “Robert, don’t say that.”
“I really mean it, Ned,” Robert continued, lower now. He had one arm around Ned’s chest and wouldn’t let him pull away, murmuring into his ear. “You think you have to marry the first girl you pluck, but it’s not like that at all. Were you a woman, I’d have only made certain you’d know what to expect. But gods I’d envy the bastard who claimed you.”
Robert kissed him again. That was fine, they’d kissed before. On the cheek, on the lips. Friends did so, brothers did so. The dread in Ned’s chest was at war with the heat in his belly, warning him, telling him this was not what friends did.
He tilted his face towards Robert’s and found himself nose to nose. Robert’s breath was foul with wine. Ned’s own tasted no better.
Lord Robert Baratheon had long black eyelashes which framed his sky-blue eyes. Ned had noticed that before, but never been this close, able to count each hair. Suddenly curious to know how they felt he raised his hand and thumbed at them.
Robert’s cheek smushed into Ned’s fingers as he leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. “Mm.”
It was not a friend’s kiss. Robert’s coaxed his mouth open with his tongue, his teeth scraping against Ned’s. It surprised him how easy it was, how natural it felt, to hold still in Robert’s warm arms and let him into his mouth.
It shouldn’t be easy. Neither the Northern gods nor the Seven forbade same-kind relations, but both faiths made clear that a union could only between a man and a woman. Anything else was a folly, something uncouth, like a mistress. Something worth of disapproving of.
That flicker of dread drew cold and sharp. “Robert, stop,” Ned whined. “This is bad.”
“Why?”
“You know why!”
“No I don’t,” Robert said, and then a large hand found Ned’s member. Whyever had they gotten nude? He couldn’t recall, but Robert was warm and soft against him, and his hand was stroking him in a very persuasive manner. Not quite squeezing him, but gently tugging, back and forth until Ned could not deny he was hard.
Robert’s mouth found a spot beneath Ned’s jaw and nosed at it, kissing at it until all the hair on Ned’s body stood tall and he shuddered. He hummed, and Robert hummed back, as though the were animals rather men.
It felt very, very good. Good enough that Ned almost did not want to speak against it, but he did, murmuring, “We should stop. Jon will find out.”
“However might he find out? The door is locked. Or are you going to tell him?”
“No.”
“Neither will I. You’re not actually a maiden, Ned, we’re only having fun, it’s not as though a bastard can come of it.”
“Wait.” Ned found the strength to leave Robert’s arms. “Perhaps we should go to a bed.”
It was almost that they did not make it. They had just decided to go to Ned’s room when they realized that Robert’s bed was bigger and would best fit them both. They wore their tunics loose to hide their nudity, and the sound of the creaking stairs had never sounded so much like farting. When Ned giggled, Robert shushed him, and then they ran before the servants might catch them.
When they laid down on the bed, it was an effort to not fall asleep at once. Ned shucked his shoes and almost got off his clothes, but then Robert was on him again.
They were crossing swords now. “Hah!” Robert exclaimed. “Knew I’d be bigger.”
“You’re taller than me,” Ned countered. He pushed his hips up so that they were as flush as could be. It did not help — Robert was larger. Not massively so, not enough to bruise Ned’s pride.
“I want to see all of you,” Robert said, and together did they toss what remained of Ned’s clothes. When he was done he pet him on the belly like a dog, and it dawned on Ned again how drunk they were.
“Wait,” he said.
Robert looked grief-stricken. “What? Why? Don’t you want me?”
“I’m scared.”
“Of?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, don’t be.” He grasped the tip of Ned’s cock and squeezed so hard it made his eyes roll back into his skull. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. What are you so afraid of? Losing your maidenhead?”
Ned’s mood turned again. “Stop that. Do not call me that. I’m not a girl.”
“I know, you dolt. I’m no woman either, you’ll still be clueless when the time comes if that’s what you’re afraid of. I wager your wife won’t be rubbing her cock against yours.”
He was doing just that now. Both of them were on the bed, hip to hip and shaft to shaft. “Fucking a woman will feel even better. Here, squeeze me and I’ll do you,” Robert suggested.
He took Robert in his hand as the other man did the same. Robert squeezed him tight, so tight that Ned’s balls leapt and his toes curled.
“Oh,” he let slip out, covering his mouth with his free hand. Robert laughed triumphantly. Still working each other, Robert leaned in and clumsily put their mouths together, risking falling on top of him. The wine was thick and sweet on his breath, and his stubble scratched Ned’s face.
Ned wondered if this should feel wrong. Truthfully they were not dishonoring anyone nor risking a bastard, but it was hardly something to be discussed in polite company. Just friends, doing what friends did. It was good.
“Now tell me you like it,” Robert said and ruined the rather pleasant silence between them. “Tell me you like how I fuck you.”
Ned groaned. “No, that’s stupid.”
“Go on. Be a good girl. Tell me you like it.”
Ned did not tell him. Ned pushed his thumb into Robert’s tip and received a little shriek.
In return Robert fought upright, letting go of his manhood to toss him across the bed. He was the drunker of the two, which made him a less formidable opponent but a clumsy one. Ned’s head nearly made contact with one of the bedposts as they tumbled, scrambling for purchase until Robert all but laid on top of him.
A hand caught Ned’s cock, and that was it. He threw his head back until it hurt his neck, thrusting into Robert’s hand as he whimpered through a moan he could not quite muffle.
“Good lad,” Robert said, “good lad.”
Ned huffed with satisfaction and did nothing. He laid still and boneless as Robert shifted atop of him and left the bed with a grunt.
“Don’t go,” Ned managed, very weakly.
“Fear not, I’m only cleaning your seed off me. Are you falling asleep?”
“I will if I stay here.”
For the first time that evening, something hesitant crept into Robert’s voice. “I have never… done anything like that, before. I’ve heard you can fuck a man the way you fuck a woman.”
“Wherever do you hear that?”
“Places.” The bed rocked as Robert sat back down on it. “Ned, I’m still hard. It’s rather rude of you to leave me aching. No, don’t give me your hand. Can you put your legs up?”
Gingerly, very gingerly, Eddard drew his legs to his chest. “If you try to stick it in me, I’m leaving,” he warned.
“I wouldn’t know how. Pinch your legs together? Your thighs. Yes, like that.” Robert’s cock pushed into the slit between Ned’s thighs, and then he pulled out. Both of them were damp, and the slide was easy as Robert thrust in and out.
It looked like an angry pink eye. “This cannot be how it’s done between two men,” Ned muttered.
“Speak for yourself. I think I can finish from this. Wait — lie on your belly.”
The wine in Ned’s belly sloshed as he did just that. Robert all but mounted him from behind then, like a dog, and something hard and warm nudged in between his loins, and touched Eddard Stark where nothing had touched him before.
It did not try to push inside. Robert pressed him into the mattress with his own weight. A hand found Ned’s nape, his hair, and brushed through it. Clumsily he leaned closer, crushing Ned as he did and kissing the back of his neck.
When he moved, Ned’s belly swooped as though from fear. It was fast, as Robert fucked the space between his thighs, and fucked it hard. Pressure built Ned’s nethers, boiling hot and spreading from his belly to his limbs to his chest.
“Ah,” Robert groaned above him. An arm wrapped around Ned’s neck. “Ah.”
I could come from this, Ned realized. His cock rutted into the sheets and the arm around his throat veered just on being painful. When he moaned, Robert tossed a hand over his mouth and it only made him moan harder.
It felt wild and good and painful, like a good fight, a worthy struggle. It wore at his limbs and and made his breath run ragged. Ned would’ve gladly spent the rest of his life there, trapped beneath Robert’s bulk and feeling him work away between his legs.
When Robert came it was with a moan, squeezing Ned tight tight tight to his chest and thrusting desperately between his thighs. He grew so heavy that Ned feared he would fall over, crushing him into the mattress and leaving him there for the rest of the night.
“Good,” he slurred into Ned’s ear. “Gods, Ned, thank you for that.”
“What’re you thanking me for?” Ned rasped. “I just laid there.”
“Well, you did it splendidly.” A wet kiss landed on the side of his mouth, and then Robert rolled off him.
The sheets beneath Ned were spoiled. He rolled onto his back and curved himself so as to not sleep on it, but alas, it was there. He used the linens to clean himself off, and then handed it to Robert so he might do the same.
Robert did not. “What are you doing? It’s winter.”
“They’re covered with seed.”
“It’s cold!”
“I’m from the North,” he said with a smidge of pride. “I would not know.”
But it was cold, and their clothes were so wet with sweat there was no point in putting them back on. Robert found a wool blanket, which itched so fiercely it could be felt through their small clothes, but it warmed.
Spring came a little earlier to the Vale than it did the North. In maybe some moons time, there would be bird song, and there would be weather fit for horse-riding. Between him and Robert, Ned was the better rider, but Robert was the better hunter. Most times they wouldn’t hunt, only ride and speak, dismount to look when something caught their eye.
“We should do that properly sometime.”
Ned only realized he had asleep because Robert’s words woke him. “Do what?”
“This, you know. Bugger properly.”
“I’d say I feel properly buggered.”
Robert was warm beside him, especially beneath the wool blanket. They did not particularly touch or avoid one another, uncaring whether a hand brushed against an arm or a set of knees rubbed together.
Too tired to return to their chambers, they shared the bed, sleeping together for the first time in years as though they were still just boys.