our heart burns broken at the ends.

[carnivora]

WHO? theon greyjoy (ironsalt) & robb stark (carnivora).
WHAT? in the end, the sea spits theon greyjoy back out.

[ in the end, the sea spits theon greyjoy back out.

robb doesn't hear from him for ages, and for weeks he's left wondering whether he even made it to pyke, to the iron islands, or whether his ship is crushed to pieces along some rocky shore or rotting at the bottom of the ocean floor. torturous dreams of theon's face haunt him nearly every night, though some nights are worse than others and robb wakes in a cold sweat, his heart in his throat as a heavy sense of foreboding washes over him.

despite his worries, the war rages on.

with his men at his back, robb rides to the westerlands and smashes through lannister forces near lannisport, then marches further north to sack and hold ashemark. he's onto the crag next, suffering an injury that leaves him temporarily bedridden and at the mercy of a soft, doe-eyed girl with a tempting mouth and a soothing voice.

i am promised to another, he thinks when she wipes his brow with a cool, damp rag, and as he thinks it, he thinks not of a nameless frey girl but of theon greyjoy slipping his hand into his and squeezing.

( he is only a boy. )

robb returns to riverrun exhausted and older, to where he's greeted by his mother who takes him into his arms and runs her fingers through his curls as he presses his face to her breast. once catelyn has seen him fed, she tells him of renly's refusal — and of his death — and of theon's return to the riverlands. he'll only speak with you, she says.

if she says anything else, robb doesn't hear her. he excuses himself from his mother's side and walks until he's out of her sight, then rushes through the castle to theon's room, grey wind padding behind him to snuff curiously at robb's heels.

he's dizzy and breathless by the time he bursts into theon's chambers, red curls in disarray under his heavy crown, and though moments before he had had every intention of gripping him tight and kissing him hard, when he sees him now he hesitates, quiet and uncertain. ]

— Theon. [ gods, he has so much to be concerned with, but all he can think is, please let nothing have changed.

please still want me the way i want you. ]

Comments

pretend this is timely

[ferrum]

[ i'm trying to warn you theon thinks, almost bitter when robb idly swallows the warning he risked his life for, staring at him like they're no longer fluent in the same language. something warm and sick curls inside his gut when robb stark's eyes lower to his mouth instead of responding with the right words and theon bites off the urge to snarl at the result of tully idiocy and stark stubbornness. he's had the air flushed out of his lungs by the sea since he's seen robb last, reborn spitting and gasping on land and he won't let what's been sacrificed be in vain.

but this is what he fought to return to, wasn't it? he stares at robb and the brief silence makes him frantic, wanting to yell, wanting to force immediacy into his skull. it's resolve that slips easily at the press of shaky hands against him, warmth flooding him from the belly out, nothing like the sickly ache of the fever that claimed him for so long but thick and familiar.

rational thought had been brief but he'll claim later that an effort was made — and that'll have to be good enough because when robb cuts himself off with that sharp intake of breath, the sound sinks to his cock and he shudders with it, hissing out a low breath. ]

Yes. [ theon manages just this once robb closes the distance between their bodies, tipping his head back to allow that mouth to graze his throat, thinking maybe he wanted to say you need to call your men, you can't waste more time but growling instead, a slow sound catching in the back of his throat. ]

I knew I would. [ it's simple and overconfident, like he's always known something robb hasn't. it's also an obvious lie, a half groan, his hands lifting to lift the crown from robb's mess of curls, pulling it away almost reverently only to dangle it from the fingers of one hand, bold and pointless.

and then it's easy to reason that there will be time for playing war later, chin tilting so he can find robb's mouth with his again, biting kisses and tilting his hips forward, ignoring the odd feeling of being far slighter against the younger man's frame to lick into his mouth — all urgency, teeth hard against teeth when the crown is dropped to work his hands between their chests, thin fingers yanking at the clasp of cloak. ]

[carnivora]

[ robb has his mother's eyes and his mother's hair, but he is his father's son and he has his father's foolish disposition. his foolishness leaves him blind to theon's desperation, to the words he can't say written in the tense roll of his shoulders or the clenched line of his jaw. again, like before, like always, there is too much between them, a sea that's deep and jagged, smoky waters that cannot be crossed.

and again, like before, like always, robb will wade into the water until the waves break every foolish fucking bone in his body.

but, gods, how could words or warnings matter when they're together like this, when the tight press of their bodies leaves robb breathless and wanting. his crude crown is discarded, carelessly tossed to the stone floors, and if robb notices, he says nothing, his mouth kept busy by theon's tongue and teeth.

theon is quick with his cloak, but robb is quicker with theon's leathers, clawing fabric from his body like he's starved for him. his mouth finds his neck, and then the narrow line of his collar, teeth dragging down his sternum as his fingers count and feel each rib, pushing between the spaces in his chest like they're his to take and hold. his hands and mouth are bold and quick, rushed by inexperience; robb doesn't know any better, doesn't understand that theon will still be there if he slows down and kisses him how he's always wanted to kiss him — sweetly, deeply.

sweetness has no place here, maybe, in this cold room in riverrun, in the middle of this wretched war. robb wants to map theon's body with bruises and hard kisses and learn him in a newer, better way, until the war is gone and they are as they always were, laughing in winterfell with no talk of crowns or kings or betrayal.

sweetness has no place here. or anywhere.

( and again, like before, like always always always — )

robb squeezes his eyes shut and pushes his face into theon's shoulder with a soft sound, his arms winding around his naked middle as he slots a thigh between his legs and rubs against him. ]