thinking right now about Robb Stark, weight of the world, fate of his kindgom, his people, his family on his shoulders. thinking about Robb Stark sleeping with Jeyne Westerling because he’s so out of his mind with grief for his two little brothers, for his home, for the person he never thought would do this but he did, Theon, why? that he’ll take the comfort of a stranger’s kindness over what he’s feeling. thinking about Robb Stark falling for a scrap of kindness, of sympathy, of comfort. someone tending his wounded body, his broken heart. thinking about Robb waking up in the morning and deciding to marry her even though she’s a stranger and he took her castle which means she would’ve had to be nice to him and he doesn’t have to and everyone will be mad and he’s supposed to marry someone else. someone he doesn’t know, less even than a stranger, someone his mother will probably pick out for him out of a lineup of Frey daughters, each indistinguishable, chosen for him already, like everything else. thinking about him thinking about how kind she was to him last night. thinking about him thinking about his brothers. his father. his mother. his brother. Is this how it happened? Is this what it was like for you, Father? thinking about Robb deciding: I won’t be like my father. I won’t even risk it. And she’s kind. And she’s the sort of girl I want to introduce to my mother. And I want—
I want—
thinking about Robb Stark.
