Chapter Text
The Brotherhood had actually done it. They had taken the Twins with the help of a skeleton crew in Riverrun that had remained loyal to the Tullys. Once that had been done, they had gone on to liberate Seagard from the remaining control of the Freys.
Everyone had been cheering on as the Brotherhood had proven themselves. Now the other houses of the riverlands had come to rally their forces around them. The Mallisters were quick to join them for the debt of life they now owe. The Blackwoods quickly followed suit, and the other houses gradually came to their side offering whatever support they could muster.
But there was only one member of the Brotherhood she cared for. The tall dark-haired, blue-eyed smith who aspired to be the bravest and truest knight since Ser Duncan the Tall. "He and I have much in common. Both of us runts of Flea Bottom. If someone from there could earn a knighthood, and be a true knight and eventually become the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Then, I dunno, I could be something close to that." That was what he told her when she asked about the sword he was making for himself.
"Here, you should take this then. Every true knight needs a helm." She handed him a helm with a likeness of a scaled demon atop it, slavering. It had belonged to one of her ancestors, Black Tom Heddle. "I-I can't take this, Jeyne." Yet she persisted and insisted.
"There you are now, you look like a ... Demon of the Trident!"
Jeyne then heard the thundering sound of hoof-beats. Lem was leading them, still bearing the infamous helm of the Hound, making him just as terrifying as him. Beside him was Anguy, who was bearing a strange helm he found at Harrenhal; bearing the likeness of a goat. Lord Edrick, whom her sister Willow was fond of but would never say, was by the side of the archer. Tom, Jack O'Nutten, Dennett, The Mad Huntsman. Where is he?
Suddenly, the burst through the door. "Someone. Anyone a maester? A healer? Anybody?! We need help!!" Lord Edrick screeched out. Please, Gods, no. But it was true to say the least. In one arm, Gendry was desperately clutching on to the helm she given him while he had a deep gash on his chest; bleeding onto the floor. Meribald, the hunched maester, then came to his side. He then called for some turpentine, egg yolks and a bottle of wine to help treat his wounds. She quickly followed suit with him to help.
"Are you his lady love, my dear?" he said kindly but a smirk soon followed. Did he suspect something?
"Um, no, Not his lady love. But I care for him deeply and my sister loves him like a brother". Much of that had been true. Willow positively adored Gendry, and whenever he was not within earshot, she would goad her to kiss him and confess her feelings.
Jeyne took the wine, a candle, a needle and tread and a dagger given to her (by Gendry) and sat down facing him. Meribald used the candle to heat up one side of the dagger; as the blade heated up, she soaked a cloth in wine and used it to clean the area around. Once the blade was red, Meribald had gone on and pressed it against the wound. Gendry let out a guttural howl of pain as the blade cauterized the injury. Once that was done, Jeyne wiped the area again and put the needle and thread in the wine as well; carefully sewing up the gash.
"This boy may be the most truest knight or the most foolish. Either way, he showed tremendous bravery." Meribald said.
"Yes, yes he has" she said with a faint smile on her lips.
The windburnt-faced septon then gave her that same smirk from before. Am I that obvious? "I'll just leave you two to be". She sat by his side waiting for him to wake or stir at the very least for what felt like hours. His eyes suddenly woke and moved, looking around.
"Wh-Wha's happened? Where am I?"
"Gendry? Gendry, you're OK!!"
Suddenly, his face looked a bit sullen. Disappointed almost. Is he not happy to see me? Why would he be anyways?
"I-I'm sorry. I ruined the helm. It got a bit dented" he said. That's what he's worried about? She barely even noticed the dent when he had it in his arms.
"I-I can fix it. I ca-"
"You stupid silly boy. I'm just glad you're safe."
He then flashed her a smile. He hadn't done that since he came to the inn. She fell in love with his eyes first, then his conviction in being a true knight. His smile is so dazzling she nearly lost herself in it.
"The others. Lem. Anguy, Tom and ... Ned. They okay?"
"Yes. They're fine and worrying about you. Tom promised to sing a song about you and Anguy's moaning that he's missing his best mate"
"Willow was screeching before, for you not to die"
"I wanted to but she kept screaming so damn loud. Damn woman wouldn't leave me in peace"
She giggled at that. Why was she seeing this whole new side of him just now? Mayhaps, he had been like this once before. Before the war had swooped in and took everything from everyone. Even if he grew up in Flea Bottom, Gendry must have had a happy life before.
Jeyne smiled and kissed the sewed up wound. The stitches were aligned nearly perfectly. Unaware, her fingers had began running down his chest and she began to absent mindedly caress Gendry's bare upper body. His muscled form was firm and solid, not a soft spot to be found. As her fingers reached the lowest rib Gendry jerked slightly.
Did I hurt you?" Jeyne exclaimed coming out of her trance. Rather than reprimand her, Gendry gave her a small grin and shook his head. "No it just tickled a little."
"I-I-I'm sorry," Jeyne said hurriedly. "I should not of been doing that."
"No you're quite alright." Gendry reassured her.
Almost by sheer instinct, she leaned over and started to kiss him. She feels his lips kiss hers back and briefly jerks away from her, then looking at her as if he had struck a nerve or something. Am I not pretty enough for you, Gendry? Is your heart tethered to someone else?
Just as she backs way herself, she feels his hands caress the back of her head then capture her lips. She nuzzled his nose and deepened the kiss, wanting more of him. Before long they were in each other's arms, kissing, caressing, groping. Quickly and frantically, they shuck most off their clothes. She was now bare and she didn't know what to think, for Jeyne had never bore herself like this to any man at all. Does he think my teats too small?
She quickly lay on top of him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her tongue rolling around his and her mound pressing down on his loins. He had her wrapped in his arms, one hand stroking her spine to the small of her back over the smooth cheeks of her arse and groped for it to press her onto his hardening cock. He lifted his head and reached for her breast with the other hand to suckle it, until she moaned with desire. She pressed him back down and he let her, his hands on her hips, while she remained seated and she looked down at him with hooded eyelids.
She bent lower to lean on her arm, while she lifted her hips and reached for his cock to guide herself down on him. She gasped as she slowly slid over him and finally took all of him in. She did not move at first. Needing time to adjust herself to this sensation. She never felt so whole; so complete. The pain was fairly minuscule from what her Aunt Masha told her. At this point, she expected her maidenhead to have been taken by brigands or rapists. No, she willingly gave it away. Please Gods, grant me a babe from this. A baby boy with all his father's beauty.
And then she started to rock her hips, slowly, forth and back, left and right, up and down, testing him and herself, how much she could embrace, how deep he could sheath himself in her, how far back she could lean without him slipping away. He watched her in mesmerization, unable to tear his eyes off of her, as her nipples stiffened and she swayed her head with eyes closed and half open lips. She leaned forward, leaning on her hands next to his shoulders, arching her back, her lips not far from his. He wrapped one arm around her head, lifted his head to kiss her mouth, and used his other hand to support her as she lifted her hips and came down on him again. Gendry started to follow her rhythm by thrusting his hips upwards to maximize their pleasure. It was torturous slow and straining.
She wanted to allow him all the time and thrusts she needed to come. She began to feel her muscles of her thighs tighten and clench around his cock. She gently placed her hands on his chest, curling her fingers and clenching at it in pure ecstasy. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes closed, and her back arched. Ultimately, Gendry began to thrust and jerk upwards harder, grabbed her hips and guided her to him. Jeyne moaned and yelped and cried out, "Yes!" repeatedly. Her small gasps evolved into whimpers, and she lunged for his mouth, swirling their tongues around, biting his lip and then cried out.
"BY THE OLD GODS AND NEW!!"
"OH FUCK!!"
She felt exhausted and her thighs were covered in a stickiness mixed with her maiden's blood and his seed. Quickly falling upon his chest and leaving open-mouthed kisses all over while he aptly fondled her arse.
This was also she could ask for. All that she wanted. Nothing could ruin this for her.