SOMETIMES WHEN THE LIGHT CAUGHT HER FACE A CERTAIN WAY, robb could see centuries untold in mary’s eyes. he wondered what secrets were harboured deep within, and who it was that was lucky enough to pry them open and seek the truth. though her arrival had been abrupt and had elicited caution at first, her company now offered him a peace indescribable within a raging war ; he was sure she would be able to see it in his eyes now, more warm than ever, and not just from the light nature of their discussion. he could stay here forever, speaking of nothing in particular. but in the morn, when sunlight peaked through dim clouds like a silent intruder, war would pull at his hair again.
while dark eyebrows raised at her jests, a boyish grin hid beneath the scruff of hair that had gathered on rugged features ; her playful demeanour reminded him of home – of the undemanding and watchful winterfell of his childhood, untainted by the wrath of enemies or traitors. when this was all over, if by miracle death didn’t claim him first, he would take her there. if she wanted to go, of course. it seemed she had a home of her own she wished to return to – and he’d not hold her back from it if that was the case. STILL, it was difficult to fight back the memory of arya & bran & rickon, safe in the courtyards, grasping tight to an innocence he’d lost long ago. there was a prickling behind robb’s eyelids then (his body’s reminder not to linger, lest he never return to the present), and he swallowed down the ache in his throat.
mary’s humour was met with the shadow of a chuckle, one hand raising to scratch at his neck. a nervous tic, to be sure – SHE WAS STILL AN OUTLANDER, regardless of her tendency to bring a smile to lips that had done nothing but spill war strategies for months prior to her being here. still, he was nonetheless grateful ; under no obligation to help, she had offered her abilities willingly, for reasons robb was yet to comprehend. did she want something in return? it wouldn’t be unlike people of these lands to warrant such selfish behaviour, but something told him that wasn’t the heart of the matter. no, the heart of the matter lay hidden in the calm gaze across from him, and no amount of experience in war could ever help him unravel the mystery of that - of her. mary had eyes he could drown in if he stared too long – they were the kind of eyes that wet nurses told cautionary tales of ; capable of sinking ships and leading kings to their doom. IT WOULDN’T BE SUCH AN AWFUL WAY TO GO.
“ Y’ CAN’T SLEEP EITHER, THEN? ” he repeated, words far less careful than her own had been – but he offers a quiet vulnerability to her all the same. to his men, robb had offered a stoic resilience ; he was their leader and thus a reminder of what they themselves must maintain. but in quiet moments with those he trusted (his mother, mostly, though mary had drawn closer by the day), robb allowed the mask to fall. beneath was just a boy – tired and torn from home too soon. ‘neath the veil of KING was no more than a humble lord. and yet still, rest would seemingly only ever find him when he was dead. “ Believe me, there’s no use in me even tryin’ to sleep. Can hardly remember what it even really feels like to rest anymore. ” stop, he thought to himself, she doesn’t care. but words left him swiftly, and with an ease he felt with barely anyone else. how was it that she could stare through to his soul without so much as a second glance? voice hushed, robb found refuge in their closeness, gaze softening slightly as he spoke again. “Perhaps I’ll join you on a walk one of these mornings. If you’ll have me.”
implications made the air between them thick and he was quick to dissolve it, moving past her to glance over a piece of writing atop a table opposite. within moments, he had tucked it safely away in a small leather book he knew would be handled with care. it was only then that his mind reviewed her words prior, and diamond hues creased with amusement. robb’s entire body shifted to face her once more. “Hang on,” he’d begun, tone louder than before, but just as playful, “Did you just call me sire?” there was no condescending glance paid her way, nor evidence of such in his voice; just affection pressed into every detail of his face, and body leant casually against the makeshift table. “Is that a common title back in your ‘Solway Firth’? Sounds a bit odd, ‘f you ask me.”
she remembers a young girl, with a dream so big in her eyes she took it with herself to the throne. a better tomorrow , a better place . a nation built on all that was good in the world . the little rose walked on a road made of thorns , venom laid out on her path , poachers waiting for her to arrive at court so they could use her innocence to benefit themselves to make an impressionable mind work they wanted it to. no one was innocent in the game of politics & not everyone was evil either . every soul had a motive / an aim in life . but not everyone walked the halls with a heart as pure as hers . all the babe wanted was to love & be loved . she did not know what prices had to be paid or how small mistakes could be turned to men bleeding for her .
that girl was long dead. sent under a grave, decorated with flowers that couldn’t compare to her softness.
and in her place was a woman made of ice / cold & unforgiving , landed in a camp where no one was to understand her repentance , her eternal desire to correct the small faults a young monarch had made . NO , HERE SHE WAS AN OUTLANDER . a woman fallen through time / her journey was song - worthy but her story was a historian’s mockery , reduced to become a LESSON TO BE LEARNT from , as was the YOUNG WOLF’S .
every page turned reminds her how the books painted him to be naive , a boy who put love before duty & thus brought death at his doorstep . there was never much about him in the records for he had neither become the warden of the north as he was expected to , nor had he come the king he wanted to be . all he became was a FOOL who lost so much for one small fault . however , every conversation she had with him made her want to go back in time and tear those books down , rip every page apart & bind words of her own to speak of his pure heart , his beautiful mind & his golden soul .
the books said he died at the hands of betrayal, just as the little girl had. and god forbid mary would witness it again . god forbid she let his beautiful eyes close on a battlefield. god forbid she doesn’t let the crown settle on his auburn curls . ❝ but rest is of paramount importance for a person of your standing . you’ll need a fully functioning brain to lead all these men . ❞ tender organ beats with a near ferocity at his request for invitation to accompany her on the sleepless nights . gaze averted in momentary shyness , a smile gracing porcelain features . ❝ of course I’ll have you, your grace . ❞ how could she care so strongly for a man to sure to die ( if she couldn’t single-handedly change the course of history ? a laughable chance . )
a small humorous exchange brings calm to her , her violent sea of thoughts clashing against the rocks of her mind coming to rest . he talks of the title she’d given him as odd a mirthful chuckle fills the air . ❝ why , isn’t having a lannister spy on your council odd ? ❞ the smirk was evident on roseate lips , the twinkle in her eyes gives way to a glimpse of the little dead girl .
