thespherelogs | The Rains Weep O'er Their Halls

Entry tags:

The Rains Weep O'er Their Halls

Who: Robb Stark and YOU
Where: Outside of a bar
What: Arrival
When: 5/8
Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, ptsd. Drunken sex, NSFW.

[He isn't in the best mind frame as he's told where he is and that he is here for a reason. In his mind, he can still hear the "Rains of Castamere" and hear the screaming of his men. He can hear his mother begging for his life and see his wife on the floor. His death wrapped around him like a cloak, leaving him in a deep fog as he wanders, searching for something and nothing at the same time.

Eventually he finds somewhere that looks close enough to a tavern, but the act of opening the door is too much for his body, still sore and aching from his wounds. They may have healed, but he could still feel them. Some things couldn't be erased. With his hand on the door, he stands for a moment, staring at it, as though expecting it to warp and change.

There was someone next to him, but his thoughts are so jumbled, it's hard to make them out from the corner of his eye. He has to shake himself to remember he's blocking the entrance.]

I'm sorry. Am I in your way?

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[He groans without shame the moment he is encased by her. It's almost oblivion in a sense. As he slips inside, memories and shadows leave his mind. He had hoped to crawl into a bottle, but it seemed that Eponine offered him the surest means to endure the night. His body released its pain, burying itself in her her with a fierce thrust. His hands gripped her hips, pushing her down to meet his desperate rocking, pushing in fully again and again.

He arches into her kisses, tilting his neck for her as well. His scars tingled under her lips, the heat of his scars slowly seeping away. Need, loneliness, and desperation fueled him, driving him into a rough pace.]

[Eponine follows his cues, rutting against him furiously. She runs her fingers through his hair, pulling at it as she bites at his lower lip.

Her legs are wrapped up around his waist, holding her to him, helping to guide him deeper inside of her as she pants and moans, nearly as much a wolf as the man beside her.]

[His hands grip her tighter as he thrusts furiously again and again. This was the first that he let his emotions and energy push him into a near feral fucking. The bed shifted under him, drowned out by his groans and panting. He could taste a bit of blood on his tongue and responded with a fiercer bite to her shoulder.

Bruises and scratches didn't frighten him. He had faced worse only to be pulled into this world. At least he was feeling something again.]

[She cries out as his teeth grip her skin, but it only spurs her onward, grabbing at him with bruising force. They'll be covered tomorrow, surely, but this time it's far from a bad thing. Give them new wounds to focus on, and to think of pleasantly when they catch their eyes.

She swears in low French under her breath and between frantic kisses. She grabs his ass again, pulling him into her, urging him toward the edge with her.]

[He wasn't thinking of tomorrow, only of now. In the now, he was free of guilt, grief, and loneliness. He had bruises, bites and scratches, but he was giving as good as he got. The searing hit drew his entire focus, both inside her and outside his skin. He spurred faster as she grabbed him, urging him to follow her. He had been struggling since the bite, ready to spill over.

His fingers slipped between them, familiar with this at least. The tips were soaked instantly as they teased her, keeping pace with the both of them.]

[Once he adds his hand to the equation, it doesn't take her long to hit that threshold. She comes, gripping him as tight as she possibly can, kissing him with possessive force.

She rides it out, urging him to his own end.]

[As soon as she squeezes around him, he's hit his peak, toppling over the side. His body shudders as he spills inside her. His voice feels raw in his throat as he cries out, struggling to catch his breath as he clutches her. His body is humming, aching and sore from their exertions.

His head rests against his shoulder, panting roughly.]

Seven Hells.

[Eponine lets out a breathy laugh as she starts to come down, still holding on to him. She isn't in a rush to let go of him, to kick him out of her bed. She'd already promised that he could spend the night, and she truly did not want to sleep alone again, either.

She'd had her own nightmares to contend with.]

Is that what they say? [She asks eventually, brushing her hair from her eyes.] Do you have seven heavens as well?

[She leans down to whisper in his ear:] for you certainly took me to them all.

[He isn't ready yet to pull out of her, enjoying the warmth as his body adjusts from the aftermath of their coupling. His arms move from her hips to wrap around her back, a bit more careful in their hold of her. He can feel more scars there and gently runs his fingers up and down her spine. She comforted him, he wanted to do the same for her.

He chuckled, shutting his eyes as he soaked in the feeling of both of them joined.]

They do. [Not that he had the chance to see them.

He doesn't want to think of guilt yet, not as his senses start to filter in. Her words are sweet, but still trigger a pang in his heart.] Part of that was your own doing. This was...a relief, honestly.

[She melts into him, surprised the way she reacts to his soft touches. Her head drops to his shoulder and she nearly purrs with content.]

It was. I did not realize how badly I needed this.

[She looks down at his chest, the wound above his heart. His heart that she could still hear beating.]

I did as well. [He could admit that much to himself, as well as the reality of what would happen after this. Like drink, he would come back again and again, finding the comfort, oblivion and peace that Eponine happily offered. She was at least not a maid, that might have made him hesitate more.

He falls back against the bed, cradling her against his chest as he guides her with him. This was as close to a Heaven as he could find. A mattress beneath him, a woman in his arms and the quiet, no longer daunting, but comforting.]

I didn't hurt you?

[She was as far from a maid as you could get.]

Good.

[She lets him hold her, shifting against him to make herself comfortable. She keeps her head against his chest, lazily drawing circles on the skin there.]

No! I like it that way. Did I hurt you?

[It's a question that makes him chuckle as his breathing begins to slow to a normal pace.]

I can't say I've done it that way before, but no, it was good. [He'd feel it in the morning, but it wasn't as if he was planning to go anywhere or do anything. For the first time in his life, he could be lazy and stay in bed.] I don't think I can feel that sort of pain anymore.

[Dying kind of outweighed anything else.]

Good. [She looks up to kiss him briefly.]

You'll have to show me how you usually do it, if it's so different in your strange strange country. [He was the strange one, not her. France was super normal.]

[He's silent for a moment, considering what to say. He couldn't show it to her, not the way he was used. It was passionate like this, but it had been lovemaking with Jeyne. It would never be the same as with his wife.]

I only ever bedded my wife before this.

Ah. I see. [She says sagely.]

I have been with the man who called himself my husband, yes. And others, besides. Do not think less of me, my chere Robb. But if you are disgusted, I understand.

But I am happy to be the second woman you've been with.

I'm not. [When she said she was a tavern owner's daughter, he automatically assumed that she wasn't a maid. Too often, tavern wenches warmed the bed of certain patrons. Theon had bragged about bedding one in Winter's Town enough times in the past. Had he been a different man, he might have found his own companion.

After death, he slipped far.] What I've done, my family would disapprove of, but I'd do it again. [If only for some peace.] I don't judge you, I judge myself.

[For so many reasons.]

I didn't plan for this, but I don't mind.

[She could poke holes in his words. HIs family would disprove of her? That his actions, in being with her, were shameful? She knew it was true, however. She was no one a friend of royalty should bring home to meet his parents.

That honor went to ladies.]

Do not judge yourself for what brings you pleasure. Sometimes, often times, it is all you have.

And you bring me pleasure.

[He knew the many reasons they would disapprove, and sadly, some of it would be for Eponine's character and standing. It wasn't as if minded such things. Jeyne was a Lannister bannerman and far lower in social standing than he was, but he loved her anyway.

Given the timing and his quick jump into Eponine's bed, that was where he would hear it the most.]

The last time I let myself choose my pleasure over my duty, it lead to my men being killed.

[But he wasn't king now. He was just a man and a lost one.]

You do for me as well. I need this and you to sleep through the night.

So what duties do you have in death?

[She has to ask him calmly. There aren't any duties here, no hierarchy or social status. She hadn't been here long, but she'd enjoyed it already for those reasons. There was food here, and comfortable beds and warm clothes.]

I meant my words; you are welcome in my bed as long as you will have me, and I shall be at the tavern as well.

I don't, but I should have honor.

[There's doubt in his voice though. As much as he knows he should have it, to live up to his father, it seemed unlikely he could ever fully manage it. He had already fallen so far, did it really matter if he fell further?]

This isn't my world and I'm lord and king of nothing. I need this, I need the tavern, whatever others might say.

[Without Jeyne or their child, there was little point in being the man he was once.]

I mean to take that offer, so long as I haven't offended you.

King? [That's what catches her attention more than anything else and she's welcome for it. She'll cling to that word so she doesn't have to be aware of how little he must think of her. Everyone does, it's nothing new to her.]

Oh, my father would not like that. He supported our Emperor, when he reigned. [But at the same time, kings=money and Thénardier had eyes for gold. It didn't matter. He wasn't here, and she would never see her father again. Good.]

No, you may stay. Nothing you could say would offend me. I have heard it all.

[He gave another huff, his face pinched with distaste at the word now. It might have been an honor once, one he tried to fulfill, but now it was like a stain on his mind. A smell that wouldn't dissipate.]

I was once. If I'm not who I was when I lived then I'm nothing now. [Still, he had to smile at Eponine, imagining her father disapproving for political reasons.] How is an Emperor different than a king?

[He regards her softly for a moment.]

You're not different in my eyes, Eponine. I don't think less of you.

You will be my king. I will pay you taxes of shots and kisses. [She smiles again at him, unable to take her eyes from the handsome man above her. How lucky she had been, if not in life, then in death.

She laughs at the question] I do not know! I am not a learned girl, I could not tell you.

[She regards him, her own eyes softening, her lips parting lightly.] Thank you. I should hate to be lesser, in your eyes. I want you to like me.

I'd rather be a man. [But he'll steal a kiss anyway, brushing some of her hair from her face. He doesn't want to think about Westeros, not his life there or what he left behind, dead or alive.

He chuckled again, giving her a small squeeze.] Do you read?

[He smiled genuinely.] I do like you.

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