Fic: A Man Nearly Grown
For purple_hazy, who requested this ages ago. Better late than never, right? :D
Title: A Man Nearly Grown
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: slight Catelyn/Robb
Word Count: 720
Summary: Catelyn realizes that her firstborn babe is almost a man.
Robb was crouched in a small camp bath when Catelyn entered his tent. She stared at this tall, brawny youth and thought of the babe she'd birthed fifteen years ago. Robb was embarrassed at his mother seeing his nakedness and hurriedly shielded his manhood with his hands. Catelyn gave him a wry smile. "I'm your mother, Robb. I've seen you unclothed before."
"I was little then. I'm a man now."
No. You're almost a man, but you're not quite there yet. "And I'm still your mother."
Robb shrugged. "As you will." He still shielded himself though. His modesty amused Catelyn, and made her remember a time many years ago when he and his bastard half-brother Jon Snow had chased each other through the halls of the Great Keep naked as their name day. He would have been five or six then.
The squire Olyvar Frey poured another bucket of water over his master's head and reached for the soap. Catelyn stopped him. "Let me." She lathered her son's hair and began to massage the soap suds into his scalp. "I bathed you myself once I had risen from childbed. It seemed too important a task to be left even to my old nursemaid. You were so small."
"Would that I were small now," Robb complained. "This tub would be more comfortable."
Catelyn scrubbed the back of his ears and neck. "Would that this war was over and you were back at Winterfell."
"I like it, Mother," he confessed. "Not my men dying, of course. But the rest of it...It is more exciting than any game I played as a boy."
And he liked being king; he did not have to tell her that. He was so young. He had only fought one battle so far. But he won his one battle and so he is a hero. Any boy would love to be in his place. "It is no game, Robb, to be prolonged and savored. You must end it as quickly as possible and without further fighting if you can. Your sisters' lives may depend on it - your life may depend on it." She rubbed his shoulders gently to soothe the sting of her words.
"I know that, Mother," he said irritably. "I have not forgotten what they did to Father."
Catelyn's heart ached as she thought of Ned. Cersei Lannister had stuck his head on a spike atop the Red Keep to feed the crows. He had only been a scant few years older than Robb was now when he'd married her and fathered Robb before going back to war. "Your father never liked war. He did his duty and returned to us as soon as he could." He fought two wars, but it was politics that killed him. Would that Robert had never offered him the Handship. Would that I had never urged him to accept it.
"Perhaps he was ashamed to tell you," Robb said, his voice low. "It..." He stopped, embarrassed.
"It raises your blood," Catelyn said bluntly. "Yes, but it is only physical and only temporary."
"Feels good," he sighed. Catelyn was not sure whether was he speaking of bloodlust, or of her ministrations as she tried to ease his tense muscles. She was quiet as she continued rubbing and squeezing his shoulders and upper arms. Did these strong, hard arms really belong to the same soft, pudgy babe she'd bathed in a basin in Riverrun?
Robb's arms dropped to his side as he relaxed and leaned back, his eyes closed. Catelyn was lost in her memories; it was several moments before she noticed her son's manhood poking up from the water. It was large and formidable, a grown man's staff. She felt queerly proud of him. She knew he would be embarrassed if he knew she'd seen him in such a state though. She gave his shoulders one last squeeze and quietly exited the tent.
One babe almost a man. Will Bran and Rickon live to see manhood, too? Will Sansa and Arya live to see womanhood? Sansa must have flowered by now. Will I ever see my girls again? There was little Catelyn could do but offer her counsel and pray it would be heeded, so she returned to her tent and hoped the Seven would hear her prayers there.
Title: A Man Nearly Grown
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: slight Catelyn/Robb
Word Count: 720
Summary: Catelyn realizes that her firstborn babe is almost a man.
Robb was crouched in a small camp bath when Catelyn entered his tent. She stared at this tall, brawny youth and thought of the babe she'd birthed fifteen years ago. Robb was embarrassed at his mother seeing his nakedness and hurriedly shielded his manhood with his hands. Catelyn gave him a wry smile. "I'm your mother, Robb. I've seen you unclothed before."
"I was little then. I'm a man now."
No. You're almost a man, but you're not quite there yet. "And I'm still your mother."
Robb shrugged. "As you will." He still shielded himself though. His modesty amused Catelyn, and made her remember a time many years ago when he and his bastard half-brother Jon Snow had chased each other through the halls of the Great Keep naked as their name day. He would have been five or six then.
The squire Olyvar Frey poured another bucket of water over his master's head and reached for the soap. Catelyn stopped him. "Let me." She lathered her son's hair and began to massage the soap suds into his scalp. "I bathed you myself once I had risen from childbed. It seemed too important a task to be left even to my old nursemaid. You were so small."
"Would that I were small now," Robb complained. "This tub would be more comfortable."
Catelyn scrubbed the back of his ears and neck. "Would that this war was over and you were back at Winterfell."
"I like it, Mother," he confessed. "Not my men dying, of course. But the rest of it...It is more exciting than any game I played as a boy."
And he liked being king; he did not have to tell her that. He was so young. He had only fought one battle so far. But he won his one battle and so he is a hero. Any boy would love to be in his place. "It is no game, Robb, to be prolonged and savored. You must end it as quickly as possible and without further fighting if you can. Your sisters' lives may depend on it - your life may depend on it." She rubbed his shoulders gently to soothe the sting of her words.
"I know that, Mother," he said irritably. "I have not forgotten what they did to Father."
Catelyn's heart ached as she thought of Ned. Cersei Lannister had stuck his head on a spike atop the Red Keep to feed the crows. He had only been a scant few years older than Robb was now when he'd married her and fathered Robb before going back to war. "Your father never liked war. He did his duty and returned to us as soon as he could." He fought two wars, but it was politics that killed him. Would that Robert had never offered him the Handship. Would that I had never urged him to accept it.
"Perhaps he was ashamed to tell you," Robb said, his voice low. "It..." He stopped, embarrassed.
"It raises your blood," Catelyn said bluntly. "Yes, but it is only physical and only temporary."
"Feels good," he sighed. Catelyn was not sure whether was he speaking of bloodlust, or of her ministrations as she tried to ease his tense muscles. She was quiet as she continued rubbing and squeezing his shoulders and upper arms. Did these strong, hard arms really belong to the same soft, pudgy babe she'd bathed in a basin in Riverrun?
Robb's arms dropped to his side as he relaxed and leaned back, his eyes closed. Catelyn was lost in her memories; it was several moments before she noticed her son's manhood poking up from the water. It was large and formidable, a grown man's staff. She felt queerly proud of him. She knew he would be embarrassed if he knew she'd seen him in such a state though. She gave his shoulders one last squeeze and quietly exited the tent.
One babe almost a man. Will Bran and Rickon live to see manhood, too? Will Sansa and Arya live to see womanhood? Sansa must have flowered by now. Will I ever see my girls again? There was little Catelyn could do but offer her counsel and pray it would be heeded, so she returned to her tent and hoped the Seven would hear her prayers there.