Chapter Text
Happiness, they said, was a game of cyvasse.
Robb was winning so far, and he'd earned every right to enjoy it while he could. At last, all the pieces were perfectly placed. The wine pitcher stood on his nightstand; the summer snow gathered on the window sill; the two direwolf pups cuddled on the floor rug, next to the cackling hearth which warmed the chill of the afternoon air. Grey Wind's paw rested on Ghost's snowy fur, while the smaller pup laid his little, silent head between his brother's legs. On the bed, Robb's fingers tangled in Jon's black mess of curls as his brother rested his head on his belly, sucking bruises into the pale skin of his hips. The heavy wooden trunk lay open by their feet, all but forgotten.
"Leaving is hard," Robb sighed and rose to his elbow as his brother's lips released the reddish mark right above his hipbone. "I will miss you, Snow."
"Aye," Jon said. "Me too."
His brother still did not do talking so well, but at least they had no more secrets between them. Not anything that matters, anyway. Jon was not as prone to his dark moods as before, and the smile came to his lips more easily. And when they had shared their furs, which they often and readily had, the vengeful streak had almost disappeared from Jon's hard thrusts into him. He had not grown soft. Far from it. He still bent Robb roughly over and tested his limitations each time anew; he still always found a way of driving him over the edge of lust and madness. Instead of angry and hateful, however, it had now become almost compassionate, as if it was a shared journey to see just how much Robb could bear before he broke down.
Robb couldn't help being curious himself. Jon had already shattered to pieces that blushing little boy who had run away from a feast and had gotten himself painfully fucked in the sept in front of his mother's eyes. Robb had taken to playing the game with a startling passion. His hands still trembling, he would now readily indulge Jon's most twisted ideas. His cheeks still flushed, he would breathlessly give in to his own sick desires with a loose abandon. He had gone too far, had surrendered too much, and had liked what he had found. I'd hate to admit it, he thought as Jon's tongue flickered across his belly to his navel, sending shivers up his spine, but mayhaps I too want to see the bottom of the abyss.
"We have time," he told Jon. "We do."
"No," Jon said. "You need to pack," he planted a circle of kisses around his navel. "And I have to go to my lessons."
"I wish you could come," Robb said. Things had threatened to change at a sudden and alarming rate. It had been a week since their lord father had confirmed the rumour about King Robert's visit to Winterfell. They had barely gotten used to the bustle of activity which followed suit, before Lord Eddard announced his plans to leave for a brief tour of the northern holdings. This time, he said, it would not be just Robb and Theon accompanying him, but also Bran, who had been judged old enough to join. Jon's eyes darkened at this announcement. Robb did not know whether it was their separation which bothered his brother, or whether it was the blunt reminder of his baseborn status. He could have comforted him and reminded him of their oaths, but experience had taught him that Jon had little need for soft words. What Jon needed was an outlet, and even now, lying on his bed, the mere thought set Robb atremble.
"Mm," Jon muttered into his belly. "Just two weeks."
"Just two weeks," Robb repeated after him.
Sometimes, he would intentionally provoke Jon just to provide him with what he truly needed. And to see what he'd do to me. Mayhaps I want to see if it'd break me; mayhaps I want to see if I'd like it when it breaks me. During that dinner, Robb had mused out loud, carelessly cruel, how unfair it must feel for Jon to watch little Bran rising up the ranks above him, and how utterly humiliating it would be once Rickon comes of age. Theon had chortled at that, as he had with almost every jape involving Jon, be it funny or not.
He had paid for that goading. Gods, ten times over. On his back with Jon pumping angrily into him, with Jon's fingers clamped over his throat. Robb spent himself with a mute gurgle without even being touched, just before the world collapsed into darkness. Then he was padding silently through the godswood, the smell of blood in his nose. The moonlight filtered through the thick treetops. His brothers and sisters yowled hungrily by his side. Where did you go, sweet Robb? Jon asked him afterwards, his vengeance now fully drained inside his brother's battered body. Robb glimpsed over the edge of the abyss, and Jon found his outlet. Every piece was perfectly placed.
"And now, pack," Jon ordered him and pressed his lips to his skin for a one last red bruise. Then he rolled himself off the bed with a soft, wistful sigh. Ghost raised his head from Grey Wind's shaggy fur and looked at his master expectedly, tilting his little head.
"To me, Ghost," Jon said and turned to the door. "Until later, Stark. Give me a good chase tonight." His direwolf pup skulked silently after him. Grey Wind let out a small whine, rose to his paws and jumped on the bed, settling on the furs next to Robb.
"Don't worry," Robb let his head drop back to the mattress, his fingers scratching lazily behind his direwolf's ear. "I'll put up a fight, you'll see."
The sun had not yet set when Robb finished packing. He summoned his chamber maid to carry the wooden truck down to the yard, and then he stood by the window and watched the dusky sky for a while. Tomorrow I'd be away over those hills, and Jon would be watching my traces. He found himself restless and his legs soon took him away from his bedchamber and down the stone stairs of the keep into the inner courtyard. Grey Wind treaded after him, stopping every now and then to nibble on his tail.
It was true chaos outside. Stacks of equipment, saddles, weapons and ration sacks were laid on the muddy gravel of the courtyard. A few servants were carrying trunks and luggage through the inner gate, all trying to pass through the narrow opening at once. Robb caught a glimpse of little Tilly with his trunk on her scrawny back, trying to squeeze her way between the older men while they shouted at each other. Sansa and Jeyne were leaning on the wall of the Great Hall, chattering excitedly, as they had almost incessantly since the announcement of the royal visit. His sister's friend gave him a yearning look which sent him the opposite direction, where his lady mother was studying a long parchment with Jeyne's father, Vayon Poole.
"Naturally we'd have to replace that," his lady mother said. "We cannot have the queen dining under a broken chandelier."
Robb stepped to stand by their side, nodding to Poole. The chandelier had shattered when Arya had terribly missed a throw of a turnip meant for Sansa during dinner, he recalled. He could no longer remember what had provoked his sister into a vegetable assault. It had happened right after he had wanked Jon off in the solar for the first time. My mind was surely elsewhere.
"Mother," he greeted Lady Catelyn. "Do you need any help?"
His lady mother seemed distracted. At Least she no longer glared at her firstborn with that sickening mingle of disappointment and mistrust. Perhaps her suspicions had mellowed down. Perhaps she had simply given up on him. Whichever way it went, Robb knew that something had irrevocably changed between them. That was why he was more determined than ever to play the dutiful son around his parents. If I try hard enough, he figured, maybe one day she would forgive me.
"Not at the moment, thank you," she said, still looking at the parchment. "Find Theon, see if he requires assistance."
After a few minutes of searching, Harwin and Jory both confirmed to him that they had seen Theon creeping out of the kitchens and retreating up the stairs of the Keep when Lady Catelyn was looking the other way. Robb easily followed the tracks, with Grey Wind padding loyally by his side, and he soon found himself giving in to his new favourite game.
It was not a secret, not truly, that last piece which Robb had kept hidden up his sleeve. He too deserved an outlet, he told himself. Robb had no need to sneak into Theon's bedchamber like he did with Jon. Unfriendly eyes were still cast on him, certainly, ready to betray his transgressions to his parents. Nevertheless, Robb somehow doubted his father's ward would report to anyone how he had invited the heir to Winterfell into his bedchamber, and how they had both just finished a whole pitcher of Dornish red, and how they were now lying treacherously close to each other on Theon's bed.
"And just what," Robb drawled, happily tipsy, "are you planning to do tonight, Lord Greyjoy?"
Theon's arm was wrapped around his waist as they stretched their bodies on the bed. His hands had seldom wandered any further than Robb's waist or back, and he had not touched Robb much more than he had that day behind the broken windmill. It was, however, still too close, still too flirtatious. It had Robb thinking how Jon would react if he knew, and in which way he would drain out his jealousy. That thought had made him bothered and hard, and later he would sneak to Jon and spend in his brother's arms all that pent up arousal which Theon's touch had spread through him.
"Was going to meet with Kyra at the Smoking Log," Theon said. "But it's so fucking cold, I can't be arsed."
"Aye," Robb said. "And we'll be riding all day tomorrow."
Theon pulled him closer now and turned him over until they were facing each other on the bed, noses almost touching. His arms enveloped Robb and his palms moved to rest on the small of his back. From the foot of the bed, Grey Wind gave a small whimper. Robb started to feel the heat building inside of him, and he yielded to it willingly.
"I'll stay inside," Theon's voice dropped. "I'll have little Tessa here. It's been a while since that wench gave me a good suck. She's got a mouth made for sucking cock."
"So you say."
"When was the last time your brother gave you a good suck?" Theon asked and his fingers trailed on Robb's back.
"Two… no, make it three days ago."
"On his knees?"
"No," Robb shut his eyes, recalling. "While I was sleeping. I woke up and just… you know, spent in his mouth."
If their physical contact was still subdued and restrained, their words certainly were not. When it had started, this new game of theirs, Theon was the one to tell Robb fanciful stories of his conquests. Theon was older and more experienced, and he definitely had no qualms about putting his filthy actions into words. Slowly, by the measure in which Robb had agreed to further indulge Jon's desires, Theon had also started prodding Robb with questions he'd had no right to ask. But gods how arousing it is, and how good it feels to be asked all those dirty things as his fingers trail lower. He would pull out Robb's depravity like a string of pearls from his mouth, slowly collecting night after night until Robb was constantly keen to sink into Theon's arms, to lose himself to his soft touch on his back and confide in him every memory of mouth on his cock, fingers in his ass, hard long fucks in his bedchamber, the kitchens, the broken tower. It was the most delicate kind of pleasure when he managed to shock even Theon's hardened sensibilities, as he had with his tale of asphyxiation and delirium. It had become a vicious circle of desire: Robb provoking Jon to make him drown them deeper into depravity, so he could tell of it to Theon word by word, and return to Jon bursting at the seams with overwhelming want.
Theon snorted. "I've had a girl do that to me once," he said. "Woke up the moment she started sucking me."
"I was exhausted."
"I bet you were," Theon's fingers fluttered between his shoulder blades. "The way you boys fuck, I can see how your father has sired so many whelps."
Robb had no will left to chide him for speaking this way about his lord father, and perhaps he didn't care to anymore. Mayhaps I like it just fine. Theon's fingers felt so nice there, rubbing up and down on his back. His breath quickened, ragged and shallow. He pressed his brow against Theon's and allowed himself to plunge further into that shameful heat. Jon, if only you could see me now. What would you do to me? And how much would I like it?
"I wish we boys could fuck more," Robb said and laughed.
One of Theon's hands now moved to his hair and crept slowly between his messy curls, fingers resting just under his ear. "And what will you do tonight, Lord Stark?" he asked.
"You'll like that," Robb said, feeling taut and charged as his favourite part of the game commenced. And this time Jon has provided me with good cards.
"Will I?"
"Mm, I'll go to the godswood."
"What of it?" Theon edged closer, his mouth under Robb's chin. "It's fucking cold."
"Jon'll keep me warm," Robb laughed again. His head was pulsing with wine and arousal as he felt the moisture from Theon's warm breath gathering on the soft patch of skin between his chin to the back of his ear. He was already so hard that it was a torture not to be able to touch himself and earn a sort of relief.
Theon was not impressed. "Love in the godswood. Not very inspired."
"Not love," Robb corrected him. "There won't be any love there."
Theon cocked his brow, now intrigued.
"He's going to hunt me down like a hog," Robb's voice came out husky and low, and he could not help but squirm in Theon's arms. "He'll chase me and I'll struggle… I'll put up a good fight, give it all I've got, but it won't be good enough. He'll have me pinned to the ground." Grey Wind rose from the floor and started pacing the width of the bed, letting out a low wail. "He'll force me down and beat me up until I can't move anymore. He'll shove his cock in me and fuck me farewell so hard I'll remember it for the next two weeks."
Theon stared at him for a long moment. Then he chuckled. "You win," he said and kissed Robb under his ear. "I like it."
"I knew you would," Robb said, his body shuddering under the touch. He was so ready, so tense.
"Does Snow know?" Theon whispered in his ear. "Does he know how I prepare you for him? Would he thank me for it?"
Robb swallowed and shut his eyes.
"How close are you, Robb?"
Pretty damn close would be the answer.
"I bet you'd spend yourself the moment I touch you."
"Don't touch me," Robb stuttered, as he always had. And this was truly his favourite part.
Theon nuzzled at his ear, slowly. "I'd fuck you if I wanted to."
Robb took a long moment to articulate an answer, too lost to the torturous heat inside of him. "Lucky for me you don't," he mumbled.
"One day I might, lad," Theon said. His lips closed on his ear lobe in a soft bite. "I just might."
Grey Wind prowled in wide circles, Ghost at his heels, pressing deep paw prints into the fresh snow on the ground. The woods were silent but the occasional hoot of a night bird and the rustle of the wind through the weirwood leaves. Once, Robb used to come here and confess his sins while tears welled in his eyes. Seems like a lifetime ago. Seems like it was another person altogether. Now he ran by the trees, hiding between the thick trunks, trying to keep his distance from his brother.
For all his swagger in front of Theon, his heart was pounding heavily in his chest from the moment he had entered the godswood. He couldn't see Jon, but Ghost was chasing Grey Wind (playfully, it seems) so his master must have been lurking close by. Robb silently circled the cluster of sentinels again.
When he saw his brother, it was almost too late to escape. Jon had crept on him from behind the ironwood tree to his right, his dark cloths and hair blending almost completely with the blackness of the woods. Robb saw the glint of his eyes a moment before his fingers closed on him. And then he fled.
Grey Wind howled as Robb sped between the trees, dodging overgrown branches and leaves, edging around the hot pools and trying to stay out of the hauntingly pale light of the full moon. For a while he thought he had managed to lose Jon in the thicket of the forest, then his direwolf howled again in the distance and his brother darted on him. Robb scuttled around the weirwood, but Jon was quicker. Or perhaps he isn't, but I can't escape any longer. His legs were wobbling; he anxiously wanted the game to truly begin.
Jon's hand grabbed his collar and then he shoved him down on the ground. They sank into the fresh snow, watery flakes and mud covering Robb's auburn curls and his flushed cheeks as he struggled against the heavy weight on his chest. He had allowed himself to wrench free of Jon's grasp a couple of times and once even smashed his fist forcefully into Jon's chest. Then his brother kicked him hard in the stomach, Robb cowered and Jon took advantage of his sharp pain to flip him over and pin him down to the ground.
"Do it hard, Snow," Robb whispered, his head pressed down to the snow. "I can take it."
"Another word," Jon growled, "And I'll kill you."
He yanked him up by his hair until Robb yelled in pain, and kicked him between his legs, spreading them apart. Tears flooded Robb's eyes and he desperately writhed, trying to fight his way far from the flurry of fists which started to rain over his back and shoulders. He thought of an evening not so long ago when it was him over Jon's chest and of the wonderful retribution of a well-placed fist. Let him have his victory, Robb thought and sagged down against the cold snow.
His body was quivering in pain and the tears mingling with melted snow down his cheeks when Jon yanked him again on all fours and tugged roughly on his breeches. Robb was cold and so agonizingly hard he had let out a soft whimper when he felt Jon pressing behind him.
"Beg me not to do it," Jon said.
"Don't do it, Snow, please," Robb mumbled. His brother's cock rubbed against his backside. Jon pulled harder on his hair and then tilted his head and shoved a finger into him. Grey Wind howled again in the distance and Robb yelped faintly.
"Louder."
"Don't do it, please, please, Jon," Robb begged. "I'd do anything, please. Just don't hurt me. Please."
Jon pushed another finger inside and moved them roughly back and forth. The pressure was so intense that Robb almost slumped back down to the snow, the tug on his hair the only force keeping him up.
"Tell me you'd give me anything."
"Please, please, Jon," Robb wept. "You're my brother, you're not supposed to hurt me like that. Please let me go. I'd give you anything. Anything you want. Please, I beg you. I'd give you Winterfell. Let me go…"
"You know what I want, Stark?" he pulled his fingers out and cuffed Robb hard on his head.
"Let me go," Robb sobbed.
"I want to fuck you until you scream," Jon growled. With a kick he spread his legs apart again, held him still in place and entered him fully with one long, slow push. The howls of his wolf behind the weirwood drowned Robb's own.
Jon's thrusts were firm and hard, pulling out completely and then burying his cock inside his brother until Robb cried out. The cold of the forest ground cut into his palms and knees as he struggled to stay upright, lost to the maddening pace and to the heat swelling in his loins, lost to the fear of leaving Jon behind, of playing his forbidden games with Theon, of the abyss spreading out in front of his blurry eyes. He was still begging to Jon in a desperate voice. Let me go. Please. It hurts. Jon. Why do you do that to me? Let me go. And he was close. So close.
Grey Wind yowled.
The scrunch of footsteps. A bowstring pulled tight. By the time they had noticed, it was too late.
"Let go of my son," said Lord Stark. Next to him stood Theon Greyjoy, his bow aimed at Jon's head. He was smiling.
Robb's first thought was not fear, nor shame. It was, now they'd kill Jon and I'd be free of this madness. Perhaps that was the most horrible thing of all. More horrible than the look on his lord father's face, or the wide grin on Theon's lips. Then Jon pulled out, but he did not let go of Robb's hair. He stood up on his feet, yanking Robb after him, his face buried in Robb's neck. So they can't kill him, Robb realised with a sharp hot pain. He felt as if he was drowning. As through the haze of a dream, he pulled up on his breeches to cover his disgrace. Grey Wind skulked behind them, moaning pitifully, his muzzle low on the ground.
"Move away from him," Lord Stark said again, and Theon squinted, trying to find a better angle at Jon.
Robb breathed hard. "Please, Father," he heard himself say, his voice strangely collected and calm. "Don't hurt Jon. It's not what it seems."
His lord father stared at him.
"He didn't force me," Robb said. Jon sank his face into his hair, his body shivering behind him. "I wanted that. It was… a game."
"A game," Lord Stark said.
"Jon only did what I'd asked him to do," Robb said, and Jon took a sharp breath. "Please, Father. Swear you won't hurt him."
"I bet I can get him still," Theon said and drew the bow tighter.
"No, Theon," said Lord Stark and put his hand on Theon's arm. "I give you my word; no one will be hurt tonight. Now, let go of my son."
Jon deliberated, then he released his hold on Robb's hair and pushed him towards their father. Robb stumbled forward, his legs barely supporting his weight after the beating he had endured and the dull panic growing sharper inside of him with every passing moment. Theon caught him in a firm grip and pulled him to stand by their side. Now it's three against the bastard. Gods, Jon. I'm so sorry.
"Take my son to his chamber," said Lord Stark to Theon. "And stay with him there. We leave at dawn."
His father's ward nodded and pulled on Robb's arm, marching him through the thick trees of the godswood. Robb looked back to catch a glimpse of Jon, and their eyes locked for the last time in what would be a long while. That was the way Robb would remember him: wild eyed, dishevelled, pale and shivering as a small child, with Ghost hiding between his legs. Then Theon yanked Robb around the weirwood and his brother and father disappeared between the leaves.
Robb had not said a thing to Theon until much later. He was not sure if there was anything left to say. Once in his bedchamber, Theon summoned a maid to prepare a hot bath and a fresh change of clothes. Robb silently washed himself of the snow, the mud, the godswood, and Jon, and Jon. He stared at his palms until he could not breathe anymore. Every piece was indeed perfectly placed, but it had never been Robb's game.
"Cheer up," Theon said, leaning against the wall. "The bastard will take the fall for you."
Robb swallowed his sob. "I will kill you, Theon," he swore quietly. "One day I will kill you."
"One day you will thank me," Theon's smile was wide and lewd. "And haven't I told you, lad? Men can like you and still stab you in the back."