#& robb

[ofimaginarybeings-archive]

@tothedevilsshow

he remembers only blood and cold. the ice cold waters, the pale face of his mother, the dead look in his wife’s eyes. And he remembers every slight. He remembers darkness. he tastes anger and he sees the face of everyone who’s ever gone against him or his family. the North remembers. he lets instinct take him, lets his steps guide him where his mind knows nothing of destination. he’s been traveling for sometime, the skies descending and then ascending with morning and night. Memories keeping him company and the ache of revenge urging him forward. He still feels the pierce of the sword through his chest when he closes his eyes - and that’s what startles him awake when he feels a presence near. He calls out, wants to know who’s around. Sometimes the wound catches his breath in his chest but right now he’s on full alert as he draws his sword. “ You had better come out slowly - I’ve a mind to run you through with my blade. “ because he must, after all, pass the sentence.

[ofimaginarybeings-archive]

@epeolxtry

He’d be better off going home, that’s what he tells himself on the constant. King in the North. The title didn’t sit right with him even if he would give his life to defend the North, to avenge his father. The title would have been much better suited for the likes of his father, a true and honest man. One who could sway a whole army of man simply based on his honor alone. It was a hard thing to live up to, a hard thing to match - but Robb tried nonetheless. Tirelessly.

Today was a day for politics and not for war however even if it was war that Robb was far better at. Greywind was growing restless with the lack of activity and bloodshed. He nods to dismiss the man who announced Elia Martell of House Dorne after the declaration of Robb himself - King in the North. His eyes light on her, a touch startled at what he finds there. He’s so used to the ladies of the North, used to their fairness and the familiarity that he had surrounded himself with. The most he found were those women that were kissed by fire. But Elia Martell - her features were stunning, darkly kissed - breathtakingly so.

“ You must have had quite the journey. “ he states in greeting, his eyes unmoving from her - he was rather incapable of looking away at this point. “ I wish we had more finery to greet you with - I know the wealth of House Martell. But as you can see - we’re at war. “ War made everything bleak, gray - no way to greet a lady of Dorne. Especially one such as her.