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The king in the north can't sleep.
Robb lies awake in his tent, listening to the faint sounds of the night surrounding him. An owl hoots in the nearby forest. A horse neighs softly in the pen. Laughter from a near campfire. They're all normal sounds, sounds Robb is familiar with.
And still he cannot sleep.
The kingship he never asked for weighs heavily upon his shoulders. It's not his true place, not really...but he couldn't say no. Not now. Not when he's paid so much to get here. So many lives... so many promises. He thinks of the promises his mother has made to the Freys and his stomach tightens. The thought of being married to a girl he's never seen, most likely one he will never love makes him feel trapped. Kings marry for duty, not for love, Robb reminds himself. It's their duty. Still, he yearns to escape.
Kings take whores.
There are women here in the camp, he knows. Camp-followers, willing to do your washing and warm your bed for a few coins. It wouldn't matter to anyone if Robb took one of them to bed. It would matter to no one but himself. He doesn't want some woman for a few coins. Not if he's promised to someone else.
That didn't stop your father. The inner voice sneers at him. Robb shoves it away. Jon is his brother and nothing could change that. He doesn't know what caused his father break his vows to his mother. He's never had the courage to ask, and now he'll never know. But Robb can be stronger than his father; he has to be now.
He rises from his bed and pulls on his robe. The night air is chill. A glass of wine will help him sleep. He pours it, then goes, wine in hand, to stand at the entrance of his tent. There, he gazes out upon the camp. From this position, he can just barely see the corner of the Kingslayer's cage. Robb takes a sip of wine and considers. He doesn't want a woman, all smiles and feigned pleasure at being taken by the king.
He wants a lion in his bed.
“Sire?” One of his men sees him standing there by the tent and comes over to him. “Is there anything you require?”
“Yes,” Robb takes a sip of wine. “Bring me the Kingslayer.”
* * *
He's on his second cup of wine by the time they return with the Kingslayer. Jaime's hands are chained behind his back, a linking chain running up to the collar around his neck. Despite the chains, the man doesn't hold himself like a prisoner. No, Jaime stands tall as ever, gazing at Robb thoughtfully as the guards leave them alone in the tent. Robb sits back in his chair. He's going to enjoy this.
“When was the last time you were fed?” He asks, reaching for the plate of food he hadn't had time for earlier. Roast chicken, a hunk of soft white bread, and wine, of course, red and sweet.
Jaime shifts slightly, the chains rattling with his movement. “Let me remember...ah, yes. Your guards were kind enough to bring me a plate of stew yesterday morning. Sadly, after they pissed in it, I lost my appetite.”
Robb doesn't hold with that sort of thing. Still, he can always reprimand his men later. “So, you are...hungry then.” He plucks a piece of chicken from the plate and places it on his tongue.
Jaime just laughs. “Not enough to beg.”
“That's good. Because I wasn't planning on feeding you now. I simply wanted to know how strong your stomach is.”
“And why's that?"
Robb eats another piece of meat and reaches for his wine.
Jaime sighs. “If you only brought me here to ask pointless questions, please just return me to the cage.”
“You forget, Kingslayer. I don't have to ask you anything.” Robb sets his wine down. “I can drag you from camp to camp as it pleases me. I can feed you when I like, and what I like. If it suited me to strip you naked and parade you through the camp dressed only in your collar and chains, then I would do it.”
“Why don't you then?” Jaime asks, half curious, half wary. He doesn't think the boy will, but there's a hint of something dangerous in Stark's eyes that's almost intriguing. He doesn't know what Stark wants. Not yet.
“Because it doesn't suit me.” Robb pushes his chair back from the table and looks at him, waiting.
“What would suit you then?” Jaime asks in his most pleasant tone.
“Your mouth on my cock would suit me very well.” Robb reaches again for his wine, and another piece of chicken. The taste of them mingles well on his tongue as he watches Jaime.
Jaime laughs at that. “You're not serious.”
“Do I look like I'm laughing?” Robb inquires softly.
“What makes you think I'd ever submit to that?”
“What makes you think you have any choice?” Robb counters.
Jaime makes no response to that. If the boy wants to play the lordling and try to get him on his knees, he'll have to do better than this. He waits, showing his boredom.
“Get on your knees, Kingslayer. You've no right to look down on me.”
“Stand up then. Not that it'll do any good. I do believe I'm still taller, boy.”
Robb's fingers tighten around his wine. “Get on your knees. I won't tell you again.”
Jaime cocks his head, and then he yawns, widely. “If you're done, I really would like to get some sleep before the whole camp wakes and starts its usual commotion.”
Robb simply whistles, looking past Jaime towards the tent entrance. Jaime turns.
The wolf is there, looming out of the dark like a beast out of a child's story. Jaime's hands clench into fists. He knows Stark won't kill him, not yet. Not while he's still of use to them...
The wolf moves closer silently until it's right behind Jaime. He can feel its presence, but won't let himself look to make sure. Instead he keeps his gaze fixed on Robb, who simply whistles again.
The breath is knocked from Jaime as the wolf lunges, pinning him to the ground. The wolf crouches atop him, panting over his prone form. Jaime can feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. The beast's teeth graze along his neck, and then Robb whistles again. The beast retreats.
Jaime pushes himself awkwardly to his knees, no easy feat with his hands bound behind him. “Well?” His lips curl. “You have me on my knees, Stark. What now?”
“I think I'd like you to crawl over here to kneel at my feet.” Robb says casually.
“How?” Jaime demands. The boy's unreasonable. How the devil is he supposed to crawl with his hands chained behind him?
“You're clever, Kingslayer. I'm sure you'll think of something.” Robb drains his wine and reaches to pour more. “If your wits fail you, I can always have Grey Wind drag you by the scruff of the neck.”
Jaime hesitates. While he knows Robb needs him alive, he doesn't trust the wolf once its teeth are at his neck. At last he shuffles forward on his knees. It's slow going and humiliating, but if he tries to crawl, he'll simply end up flat on his belly.
At last he's barely a pace away from Robb's chair. There he stops and glares at up the Stark boy. Robb simply widens the spread of his legs and looks down at him.
“I can hardly open your breeches with my hands tied.” Jaime says, “If you want my mouth on you, you'll have to accommodate me just a bit.”
Robb has to smile, in spite of himself. Only Jaime Lannister could still sound so arrogant even when on his knees. He sets his wine down, and unfastens his breeches, drawing his cock out.
Jaime eyes it. “Not bad. Though, not quite large enough for a boy who styles himself as king.”
At that Robb's had enough. He reaches out, pulling Jaime closer by his hair. “If you want to keep your tongue, put it to use.” Releasing Jaime, he sits back.
“So impatient.” Jaime shakes his hair back from his brow. “Anyone would think this was the first time you were getting your cock sucked.”
Robb back hands him hard, striking Jaime across the cheek. Jaime sways, but manages to stay upright. “I'll take that as a yes.”
Robb's jaw tightens, but Jaime lowers his head just then, slipping Robb's half-hard cock inside the warmth of his mouth. Robb leans back in his chair and enjoys this. This is how he prefers to have the Kingslayer, silent and servicing. Jaime is good with his tongue, no surprise there. Robb wonders what it will be like to have that golden skin bare beneath him, the man spreading his legs for him. In time he'll tame the lion, but for now...
He takes hold of Jaime's hair, thrusting further inside until he feels Jaime choking around his shaft. Robb fucks the man's mouth until he comes at last with a groan, spilling down the Kingslayer's throat. He doesn't pull out until his cock is spent, forcing Jaime to swallow every last drop of his seed.
Jaime looks up at him with reddened eyes. He spits indelicately at Robb's feet. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like something to wash the filthy taste of you from my mouth.”
“I think not.” Robb tucks himself away and reaches for his wine. “I think you'll sleep with the taste of me in your mouth, and wonder what I'll have you do tomorrow.” He stands, brushing past Jaime, who stares at him over his shoulder.
“Guards.” Robb steps back as they enter. “Take him back to his cage.”
They pull Jaime to his feet. “You won't hold me forever, Stark.”
Robb closes the distance between them until he's close enough to kiss the man. He can smell himself on Jaime's lips, and he smiles. “Perhaps not. But I have you now. Take him away.”