Robb Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kingofthenorth) wrote2015-03-24 09:16 pm
kingofthenorth) wrote2015-03-24 09:16 pm
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When Two Starks Walk into Braavos
In all of Westeros, it was known that the King in the North was dead and Winterfell had fallen into ruin. No one knew of the Stark family, as it was presumed they were all dead, wiped out over the last two years due to the war sparked by the fall of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark's 'treason'.
Robb should've been dead, as he took a fatal blow to his abdomen, but for some reason Walder Frey took pity on Catelyn's pleas and bothered to send him to the healers, yet still sending the ravens of the notification of his demise. That was the deal: Robb was to leave the north, if he survived, and to never return. It was some Stark soldier killed that was paraded around in Robb's clothes, decapitated with Grey Wind's head attached. Frey only had so much mercy to provide, you see.
Septicemia set in Robb from his wounds, and he ran a fever that was known to kill the young, old, and weak, but in the wee hours of the night four days later was when he broke it. His mutterings and delusions ceased and he started waking up. When Robb was able to barely raise a spoon to his mouth, that was when Frey's hospitality ran out and he kicked him out with the specific instructions of how he was to leave Westeros. They shaved him clean and sheered his curls, hoping no one would recognize him as he was set off to the Narrow Sea to board a boat and sail to Essos, leaving everything behind.
He had never been on a ship before, and the sea sickness nearly devastated his already weakened state. The pain in his abdomen muscles burned and ached as he vomited nothing from his stomach. Every night he prayed to the Gods, asking why he had lived and what purpose did he serve now. Talisa was dead, his son along with; his brothers were presumably dead, his sisters most likely were as well. His mother... Her wounds were too devastating, he had heard, and she too perished on the floor of the great hall in the Twins.
By the time Robb landed in Braavos, a beard was already growing back into his face, and his hair was just beginning to show the curls again, although still very short. He stumbled onto the ground from the ship, looking equally parts lost and in wonder of the new city. It was here he had to determine what to do next, as he knew no one in the city.
Robb should've been dead, as he took a fatal blow to his abdomen, but for some reason Walder Frey took pity on Catelyn's pleas and bothered to send him to the healers, yet still sending the ravens of the notification of his demise. That was the deal: Robb was to leave the north, if he survived, and to never return. It was some Stark soldier killed that was paraded around in Robb's clothes, decapitated with Grey Wind's head attached. Frey only had so much mercy to provide, you see.
Septicemia set in Robb from his wounds, and he ran a fever that was known to kill the young, old, and weak, but in the wee hours of the night four days later was when he broke it. His mutterings and delusions ceased and he started waking up. When Robb was able to barely raise a spoon to his mouth, that was when Frey's hospitality ran out and he kicked him out with the specific instructions of how he was to leave Westeros. They shaved him clean and sheered his curls, hoping no one would recognize him as he was set off to the Narrow Sea to board a boat and sail to Essos, leaving everything behind.
He had never been on a ship before, and the sea sickness nearly devastated his already weakened state. The pain in his abdomen muscles burned and ached as he vomited nothing from his stomach. Every night he prayed to the Gods, asking why he had lived and what purpose did he serve now. Talisa was dead, his son along with; his brothers were presumably dead, his sisters most likely were as well. His mother... Her wounds were too devastating, he had heard, and she too perished on the floor of the great hall in the Twins.
By the time Robb landed in Braavos, a beard was already growing back into his face, and his hair was just beginning to show the curls again, although still very short. He stumbled onto the ground from the ship, looking equally parts lost and in wonder of the new city. It was here he had to determine what to do next, as he knew no one in the city.
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By the time she'd left the cart and money for the clams and come running back, the ship was already unloading, the sailors busy pulling chests and barrels and crates to carts on the docks that would take them wherever it was they needed to go. She noted a few interesting things in the lot wine going in a cart whose driver she recognized as working for a House that claimed to shun alcohol, an unusually large shipment of silks to a 'destitute' House- someone had come into a rather impressive windfall it seemed.
But suddenly her attention was caught by a man coming off the ship and nearly faceplanting, a man not dressed like the sailors, not dressed like a Braavosi native. A Westeros man off of a boat not known for taking passengers. She almost turned away then, was actually shifting to do so when the strange man looked her way and she was suddenly rooted in place, heart all but clawing it's way into her throat as if she'd seen a ghost. And in a way she was, wasn't she? She'd been there. She'd heard of the celebration that followed the infamous Wedding, Robb's mutilated body paraded for all to see.
The King in the North was dead, but here was Robb Stark, alive and whole.
She wasn't even aware when she'd started moving, bare feet slapping against the wood of the deck, dodging around sailors who cursed the girl as they stumbled out of her way, completely ignored as she got close enough to simply... throw herself against him, arms flinging around him to grasp tightly as she buried her face firmly against him, not caring who might see.
It was him. She'd been strong up until this point, steeled herself against her emotions and the pain of what had happened, but here and now she felt as fragile as spun glass, as if the finest jolt might shatter her as she fought to hold back tears in a desperate bid to keep some control over herself.
"Robb-
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