The gash is not deep, but it's long and draws a red, bloody line on Theon's chest, scarlet drops that look like tears run on his pale skins, creating patterns that remind Robb of the tapestry of hunting scenes that decorated the Great Hall in King's Landing, of his father showing them to him when he was a child, that time they went there after the Greyjoy's rebellion, just before he met Theon for the first time.
Another time, another life.
He takes off his furs and sword and gets closer to Theon who is half naked, clenching his fists, trying to bite back the pain and that only looks at him when he sits in front of him: the scent of the rose water is so strong it almost makes Robb's head spin; he wets a bandage and is about to start cleaning Theon's wound, when the other stops him.
- You Grace, there's no need to trouble yourself with this, a wen- a nurse can do this. -
- I told you not to call me Your Grace when no one's around. -
- And I told you that it's not so bad. -
Robb laughs and Theon follows: but when the wet cloth touches the gash, Theon gasps and his hands almost push him away, but he stops himself in time, clenches his fists again and allows Robb to continue.
The cloth quickly becomes red and bloody, the broken skin appears once the blood is washed away and Robb's heart aches: this is his fault, the haunted look in Theon's eyes, the wounds on his body, the wounds in his soul, the marks and the scars he wears with pride, but that still hurt and bleed are his fault.
Theon is here, by his side again, but far away from home, a traitor to his own family all because of him.
- It's not that bad, it'll heal soon. -
Robb nods and when he looks at Theon, he sees his old, bold, wicked smile on his face: it washes the guilt, the sadness and the ache away in a second.
The water in the basin is red, red like the petals that float on the surface, the tips of his fingers are red, it almost feels like everything is red around them, even the air, but then Theon's smile widens and everything becomes brighter, everything shines, colors exploding in front of Robb's eyes.
He presses his forehead against Theon's shoulder, caresses his back with his free hand, hears him moan softly, his hands in his red curls, stroking his skull, holding him closer.
They stay like this for a while, their breaths the only sounds in the quiet tent, until Robb lightly kisses his wound and Theon moans out loud, pulling at his hair and trying to make him stop.
- What are you doing?!-
- Ssh... -
He kisses the gash again, tasting blood, rose water, salt, tasting him like he never did before, no matter how many times he licked and kisses him, swallows his blood and keeps licking until Theon shoves him away and kisses him hard, mouth open, all teeth, tongue, bruised lips and taste of blood.
It feels like forever since the last time they did it, before Theon left for Pyke, before he betrayed his family and his people for him, for him, only for him, before everything changed.
They were younger, bolder, maybe happier.
But Robb feels happy now, with Theon in his bed again, moaning and screaming and trashing under him, feels happy buried inside his body, feels happy when his nails scratch and bruise his back, when he kisses him so hard his lips will be red and swollen for days and everyone will know what they did, everyone will know who the King in the North truly belongs to.
He fucks Theon so hard he fears he'll break him, but every time he tries to slow down, the other grabs his hair and pulls and grinds against him and he just can't restrain himself anymore.
They're both too spent and gone to move when they finish, so they just stay there, curled and entangled in a mess of limbs, furs and sheets, Theon kissing his face, stroking his hair, whispering into his ear.
- I did it for you, I don't regret it, I'll never regret it. I'm yours, you're mine. Now and always. -
Robb closes his eyes and kisses the now bandaged wound again.
- Now and always. -