Somewhere between battles and invading the Westerlands he married Roslin. It was a short feast. Nothing great and fancy. It was true that she was more beautiful than most of Frey's daughters. Still, she wasn't like Jeyne. Her face was friendly but without warmth and her teats were smaller than apples. She had cried during the bedding, scared of what he would do to her. There wasn't a click between them, yet it was his duty to make her his wife, to make sure she'd carry an heir. And he had tried to assure her, to tell her about Winterfell and the North. That it wasn't as harsh and cold as in most stories.
He had hoped to marry and fall in love. Yet he found nothing about her that he could love. But then again, it had stopped being about what he wanted ages ago. His life has been about duty, about wha the owes his men, the North, his crown. And somewhere along all that Robb lost himself.
And even though he had visited Roslin quite some times, hoping his seed would take root inside of her, nothing ever happened. Eventually he feared she was barren, yet he did not speak the words. When Roslin spoke of her moon blood he faked a smile and told her that it wasn't a bad thing. Next time would be better. And she would nod and give him a fake smile as well.
There were times he thought about Jeyne. That sweet girl from the Crag with her brown curls and kind eyes. It felt different with her. He could have loved her if duty did not demand of him that he kept his promise to house Frey. Robb had grown tall over that year and he was no longer without beard either. Yet headaches plagued him almost every hour of the day and at times it felt as if he was going to snap in two under all that pressure.
Robb hears her voice but does not look up when she mentions her name. He is too busy gazing at the map and giving orders to lord Bolton to take a smaller path that should go parallel with the King's Road.
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Date: 2017-07-15 11:00 pm (UTC)He had hoped to marry and fall in love. Yet he found nothing about her that he could love. But then again, it had stopped being about what he wanted ages ago. His life has been about duty, about wha the owes his men, the North, his crown. And somewhere along all that Robb lost himself.
And even though he had visited Roslin quite some times, hoping his seed would take root inside of her, nothing ever happened. Eventually he feared she was barren, yet he did not speak the words. When Roslin spoke of her moon blood he faked a smile and told her that it wasn't a bad thing. Next time would be better. And she would nod and give him a fake smile as well.
There were times he thought about Jeyne. That sweet girl from the Crag with her brown curls and kind eyes. It felt different with her. He could have loved her if duty did not demand of him that he kept his promise to house Frey. Robb had grown tall over that year and he was no longer without beard either. Yet headaches plagued him almost every hour of the day and at times it felt as if he was going to snap in two under all that pressure.
Robb hears her voice but does not look up when she mentions her name. He is too busy gazing at the map and giving orders to lord Bolton to take a smaller path that should go parallel with the King's Road.
"I will be with you shortly," he finally mutters.